Oh my Fair Couzen, I spi•d yee, and that made me give my man my Horse to come to you.

Me? have you any business with me?

Business! yes Faith, I think I have, you know it well enough, but we have had no sport this afternoon, and therefore I made hast to come to you.

Such as you should have no sport made to you, you should make it for others.

Ay, its no matter for that; but Couzen, would you believe it, we were all 〈◊〉, Mother Demdike and all her Imps were abroad, I think, but you are the pr•tty 〈◊〉 that enchants my heart. This must n••ds please her.

Well said, Academy of Compliments, you are well read I see.

Ods Bud, who would have thought she had read that!

Nay, for Learning and good breeding let Tim alone.

Tim! I might be Sir Timothy in your mouth though one would think.

I am sorry the King bestowed Honour so cheaply.

Nay, not so cheap neither; for though my Lady Mother had a dear Friend at Court, yet I was fain to give one a Hundred pounds, besides my Fees, I am sure of that: Tim, hum go too—

Was there ever so fulsom a Fool▪

Besides, I gave Thirty Guinnies for the Sword I was Knighted with to one of his Nobles, for the King di• not draw his own Sword upon me.

Do you abuse the Nobility? would a Nobleman sell you a Sword?

Yes that they will, s•ll that or any thing else at Court. I am sure he was a great Courtier he talked so prettily to the Kings Dogs, and was so familiar with them, and they were very kind to 〈◊〉, and he had great interest in them: He had all their names as quick, and 〈…〉 know who, and discours•d with them, I protest and vow, as if they had 〈◊〉 Christians.

Oh thou art a pretty F•llow; hey for little Tim of Lancashire.

You might give one on•s title one would think, I say again, especially one that loves you too.

Yes, I will give you your Title.

Thank you dear Co•z•n.

Take that, and your proper Title, Fool.

Fool! I 〈◊〉 you, I s•orn your words, 'tis a burning shame you should be 〈◊〉, th•t it is: Little thinke my •ady Mother how I am used.

Once for all, as a Kinsman I w•ll b• civil to you; but if you dare make love 〈◊〉, I'le make thee such an example, thou shalt be a terrour to all foolish Knights.

•oolish! ha, ha, ha, that's a pretty jest; why han't I been at Oxford and the 〈◊〉 of Court? I have spent my time well indeed if I be a Fool still: But I am not such a Fool to give you over for all this.

Dost thou hear? thou most incorrigible lump, never to be lickt into form; thou Coxcomb incarnate; thou fresh, insipid, witless, mannerless Knight, who wearest a Knighthood worse than a Haberdasher of Small wares would; It serves but to make thy folly more eminent.

Well, well, forsooth, somebody shall know this.

Every one that knows thee knows it. Dost thou think, because thy foolish Mother has Cocker•d thee with morning Cawdles and afternoons Luncheons, thou art fit to make Love? Ile use thee like a Dog if thou darest but speak once more of Love, or name the world before me.

Mum, mum, no more to be said, I shall be heard some-where. Will your Father maintain you in these things, ha Gentlewoman?

Tell if thou durst, I'le make thee tremble. Heart, if you bent gone now presently, Ile beat you.

My Dear, art thou come! I have been just now tormented by thy foolish Brothers awkward Courtship, forgive me that I make so bold with him.

Prethee do, my Dear, I shall be as free with thine, though he is not so great a Plague, for he is bashful, very indifferent, and for ought I perceive, to my great com∣fort, no Lover at all: But mine is pert, foolish, confident, and on my Conscience in love to boot.

Well, we are resolved never to Marry where we are designed, that•s certain. For my part I am a free English woman, and will stand up for▪ my Liberty, and Pro∣perty of Choice.

And Faith, Girl, Ile be a mutineer on thy side; I hate the imposition of a Husband, 'tis as bad as Pop•ry.

We will be Husband and Wife to one another, dear Theodosia.

But there are a brace of Sparks we saw at the Spaw, I am apt to believe would forbid the Banes if they were here.

Bellfort and D•ubt• they write us word they will be here suddenly, but I have little hopes; for my Father is so resolved in whatever he proposes, I must dispair of his consent for Bellfort, though he is too reasonable to force me to Marry any one▪ besides he is engaged, in honour, to your Father.

Nay, if thou thinkest of subjection still, or I either, we are in a desperate case: No, mutiny, mutiny, I say.

And no money, no money will our Fathers say.

If our Lovers will not take us upon those Terms they are not worthy of us. If they will, farewell Daddy, say I.

If so, I will be as hearty a Rebel, and as brisk as thou art for thy life; But canst thou think they are such Romancy Knights to take Ladies with nothing? I am scarce so vain though I am a woman.

I would not live without vanity for the Earth; if every one could see their own faults 'twould be a sad World.

Thou saist right, sure the world would be almost depopulated, most men •ould hang themselves.

Ay, and women too: Is there any creature so happy as your affected Lady? or 〈◊〉 Coxcomb?

I must confess they have a happy error, that serves their turn better than truth; but away with Philosophy, and let's walk on and consider of the more weighty mat∣ters of our Love.

Come along my Dear.

What a pox is the matter? She has piss'd upon a Nettle to day, or else the Witch•s have b•witched h•r. Hah, now I talk of Witches, I am plag•eily afraid, and all alone: No heres Nun••e Tomas.

How now Couzen?

Couzen? plain Couzen? You might have more manners Uncle, S flesh, and one gives you an Inch, you'l take an Ell. I see Familiarity breeds Contempt.

Well, Sir Timothy, then, Byr Lady I thought no harm; But I am your 〈…〉 that.

Yes, my Father's younger Brother. What a Murrain do we keep you for, but to have an eye over our Dogs and Hawks, to drink Ale with the Tennants (when they come with R•nt or •resents) in Black Jacks, at the upper end of a Brown Sho•••-board •able in the Hal•? to sit at lower end oth' board at meals, rise make •our 〈◊〉, and take away your Plate at second Course? And you to be thus familiar!

Pray forgive me good Couzen: Sir Timothy, I mean.

V•ry well, you will be fa•cy again Uncle. Uds lud, Why was I Knight∣ed but to have my Title given me? My Father, and Lady Mother can give it me, and s••h a Fellow as you, a meer younger Brother to forget it.

Nay, nay, ha•d yee yeou mun tat in good part, I did but forget a bit, good Sir Timo•hy.

My Mother would 〈◊〉 a fine taking about it, and she knew it.

Nay, pray now do not 〈…〉 my •ady, by th' Mass who'l be e'en 〈◊〉 wood an who hears o•t. But look a, look a, here come th' Caursers, the Har•〈◊〉 playd the D••l with us to 〈◊〉, we 〈…〉 bewitch'd.

Ay, so we have, to have the Hare vanish in open Field before all our fa∣•••, and our eyes never 〈◊〉 from her.

Ay, and then an awd wife (they caw'n her Mother Demdike) to start 〈…〉 very spot o grawnt where we losten puss!

These are Prodigies you tell, they cannot be; your sences are deceived.

My sences deceived! that's well, Is there a Justice in Lancashire has so much skill in Witches as I have? Nay, I'le speak a proud word, you shall turn me loose a∣gainst any Witch-finder in Europe; I'd make an Ass of Hopkins if he were alive.

Nay, I'le swear 'tis true, a Pox on that awd Carrion Mother Demdike, she ha's marr•d all our sports, and almost kill'd Two Brace of Greyhounds worth a Thou∣sand pound.

Dreams, meer Dreams of Witches, old womens fables, the Devil's not such a Fool as you would make him.

Dreams! mercy upon me! are you so profane to deny Witches?

Heaven defend! will you deny the existence of Witches? 'Tis very Athe∣istical.

Incorrigible ignorance! 'tis such as you are Atheistical, that would equal the Devils power with that of Heaven its self. I see such simple Parsons cannot en∣dure to hear the Devil dishonour'd.

No Witches? why I have hang'd above Fourscore. Read Bodin, Remigi∣us, Delrio, Nider, Instit•r, Sprenger, Godelman, and More, and Malleus Maleficarum, a great Author, that Writes sweetly about Witches, very sweetly.

Malleus Maleficarum a Writer, he has read nothing but the titles I see.

Oh I a great man, Malleus was a great man; Read Couzen, read the An∣tidote against Atheism: Well, I'le make work among your Witches.

Ay good Sir Ieffery do, Uds Lud they'l grow so bold one shan• go a Caursing, Hunting or Hawking for 'em one of these days; and then all the ioy of ones life's gone.

Why are those all the joys of Life?

Ay Godsflesh are they, I'd not give a Farthing to live with out 'em, what's a Gentleman but his Sports.

Nay, byr Lady, I mun have a saup of Ale now and then, besides sports.

Why here's my Son, Sir Timothy, saw the Hare vanish, and the Witch ap∣pear.

That I did upon my Honour Sir Ieffery.

So ho, here's the Hare again.

He Boys, loo on the Dogs, more sport, more sport.

'Tis almost dark, let's home: go to your Mistress, Fool.

Time enough for that, Sir, I must have this Course first, halloo.

Now, Sir Edward, do you see, the Hare is vanish'd, and here is the Hag.

Yes, I see 'tis almost dark, the Hare is run from your tired Dogs, and here is a poor old Woman gathering of sticks.

Avant thou filthy Hag, I defy thee and all thy works.

This is wheint indeed Sir, you are a Schollard, pray defend me.

Now you shall see how the Witches fear me.

The old women ha•• reason to fear you, you have hang'd so many of 'em.

Now Tom Shaklehead, and you Clod, lay hold o'th' Witch quickly; now you shall see my skill, wee'l search her, I warrant she has biggs or •eats a handful long about her parts that shall be nam•less; then we•l have her wa•c•ed e•ght and fourty hours, and prickt with Needles, to keep her from sleeping, and make her 〈◊〉, Gad •hee'l confess any thing in the world then; and if nor, after all, wee•l tye her Thumbs and great Toes together and 〈◊〉 her into your great Pond. Let me alone with her, I warrant ye, come, come, come, where are you?

So I must have a poor old woman murder'd in my House.

Oh the Witch, the Devil.

How now, whats the matter?

Why by'r Lady, the De•ls ith' matter, the old Hag has knockt us both dawn, and is vanisht under grawnt I think.

Your fear has knockt you down, and the old woman has escap'd.

No, no, she has done't; a Witch has a mighty strength: Six men are not strong enough for a Witch of Fourscore.

Come prethy, Sir Ieffery, let's home and drive these fables out of her heads, its dark.

Nay, I know how to deal with her, I•le send my Warrant, and a Consta∣ble with that is strong enough to beat six Witches, ay, six the ablest Witches on 'em all•you'd wonder at it, but faith 'tis true.

Ha, ha, ha, how I have fooled these fellows, let 'em go home and prate a∣bout it, this night wee'l revel in Sir Edward's Celler, and laugh at the Justice. But to the business of the Night.

Whaw, what a Storm is this! I think Mother Demdike and all her Dee'ls are abroad to neeght, 'tis so dark too

I canno see my hont.* Oh the Dee'l, the Dee'l,

Was there ever such a Storm raised on a suddain, the Sky being clear, and no appearance on't before?

But the worst part of our misfortune is to be out of our way in a strange Countrey, the night so dark that Owls and Bats are wildred.

There is is no help, Cover the Saddles, and stand with the Horses under that Tree, while we stand close and shelter our selves here; the Tempest is so violent it cannot last.

Now Philosophy help us to a little patience, Heaven be praised we are not at Sea yet.

These troubles we Knight Errants must endure when we march in search of Ladies.

Would we were in as good Lodging as our Dogs have which we sent before to Whalley. I fear too (after all this device of yours) our pretending to hunt here will never take.

Why So?

Will any body think that a man in his right wits should chuse this Hilly Countrey to hunt in?

O▪ yes, there are Huntsmen that think there's no sport without venturing Necks or Collet-bones; besides, there is no other way to hope to see our Mistresses: by this means we shall troll out my Mistresses Brother, who loves, and understands nothing but Countrey sports. By that we may get acquaintance with Sir Edward Harfourt, who is reported to be a wise, honest, hospitable, true English man. And that will bring us into Sir Ieffery Shaklehead's family, Whally being in the mid-way betwixt them.

I am resolved to see my Mistress, what ere comes on•t, and know my doom. Your Yorkshire Spaw was a fatal place to me, I lost a heart there, Heaven knows when I shall find it again.

Those interviews have spoiled me for a man of this World, I can no more throw of my loose corns of Love upon a Tennants Daughter in the Countrey, or think of Cuckolding a Keeping Fool in the City; I am grown as pittiful a 〈◊〉 Loving animal as any Romance can furnish us with.

That we should scape in all the Tour of France and Italy, where the 〈◊〉 has power to ripen Love, and catch this distemper in the North! but my Theodosia in humour, wit and beauty has no equal.

Besides, my Isabella!

To you your Isabella's equal.

We are pretty fellows to talk of Love, we shall be wet to the Skin; yond•r are lights in many Rooms, it must be a great House, let's make towards it.

It is so dark, and among these Hills and Inclosures 'tis impossible. Will no lucky fellow, of this place, come by and guide us? We are out of all Roads.

Oh! Oh! what mun Ay do? Ay am well neegh parisht: I mun try to get dawn.

What a Devil •s here a fellow fallen from the top of a Tree?

Sdeath •s tais a night to climb in? what does this mean?

Oh! Oh!

Here, who art thou? Whats the matter?

Oh the Dee•l; avant, I defy thee and all thy warks.

Is he drunk or mad? give me thy hand, I'le help thee.

Begon, Witches I defy ye, help! help.

What dost thou talk of? we are no Witches nor Devils, but travellers that have lost our way, and will reward thee well if thou wilt guide us into it.

An yeow been a mon Ay'st talk wy ye a bir, yeow mun tack a care o your ••lls, the 〈◊〉 haunted with Buggarts, and Witches, one of 'em took my Condle and I a•thorn out of my hont, and ••ew along wy it; and an other Set me o top o th' tree, where I feel dawn naw, Av ha well neegh brocken my theegh.

The fellows mad, I neither understand his words, nor his Sence, prethee •ow far is it to Whalley?

Why yeow are quite b•said th' road mon, yeow Shoulden a gone dawn 〈◊〉•onk by Thomas o Georges, and then ee'n at yate, and turn'd dawn th' Lone, and 〈◊〉 the Steepo o'th' reeght •ont.

Prithee dont tell us what we should have done, but how far it is to Whalis∣l•y.

Why marry four mail and a bit.

Wee'l give thee an Angel and show us the way thither.

Marry thats Whaint I conno see my hont, haw con Ay show yeou to Whalley to neeght.

Canst thou shew us to any house where we may have Shelter and Lodging to night? we are Gentlemen and strangers, and will pay you well for't.

Ay byr Lady con I, th' best ludging and d•••t too in aw Loncashire, Yonder at th' •ough where yeow seen th' leeghts there.

Whose house is that?

Why what a pox, w•ere •an yeow lived? why yeow are Strongers indeed! why, 'tis Sir Yedard Harfourts, he 〈…〉 to all Gentry, yeou• st be welcome to him by day and by neeg•t 〈◊〉 Lord of aw here abauts.

My Mistresses Father, Lu•k if it be thy will, have at my Isabella, Canst thou guide us thither?

Ay, Ay, there's a pawer of Company there naw, S••Ieffery Shaklehead, and the Knight his Son, and Doughter.

Lucky above my wishes, o my Dear Theodosia, how my heart leaps at her! 〈…〉 guide us thither, wee'l pay thee well.

Come on, I am e•n breed aut o my sences, I was ne'er so freeghtend sin I was born, give me your hont.

No here are our men and Horses, wee'l get up, and you shall lead the fore∣most: Now Stars be kind.