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Do we succeed? Is our day come? and holds it'
Face. The evening will set red upon you, sir;
You have color for it, crimson: the red ferment
Has done his office: three hours hence prepare you
To see projection.
Mam. Pertinax, my Surly,
Again I say to thee, aloud, BE rich.
This day thou shalt have ingots; and to-morrow Give lords the affront.—Is it, my Zephyrus, right ?— Thou'rt sure thou saw'st it blood?
Face. Both blood and spirit, sir.
Mam. I will have all my beds blown up, not stuff'd : Down is too hard.-My mists
I'll have of perfume, vapored 'bout the room
To lose ourselves in; and my baths, like pits,
To fall into: from whence we will come forth,
And roll us dry in gossamer and roses,
Is it arriv'd at ruby?—And my flatterers
Shall be the pure and gravest of divines.—
And they shall fan me with ten estrich tails
A-piece, made in a plume to gather wind.
We will be brave, Puffe, now we have the medicine
My meat shall all come in, in Indian shells,
Dishes of agate, set in gold, and studded
With emeralds, sapphires, hyacinths, and rubies,
The tongues of carps, dormice, and camels' heels,
Boil'd in the spirit of sol, and dissolv'd pearl,
Apicius' diet 'gainst the epilepsy:
And I will eat these broths with spoons of amber,
Headed with diamond and carbuncle.
My foot-boy shall eat pheasants, calver'd salmons,
Knots, godwits, lampreys: I myself will have
The beards of barbels serv'd, instead of salads;
Oil'd mushrooms; and the swelling, unctuous paps
Of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off,
Drest with an exquisite and poignant sauce,
For which I'll say unto my cook," There's gold;
Go forth, and be a knight."
Sir, I'll go look
A little, how it heightens.
Do. My shirts
I'll have of taffeta-sarsnet, soft and light
As cobwebs; and for all my other raiment,
It shall be such as might provoke the Persian,
Were he to teach the world riot anew.
My gloves of fishes and birds' skins, perfum'd
With gums of Paradise and eastern air.
Sur. And do you think to have the stone with this?
Mam. No; I do think t' have all this with the stone !
Sur Why, I have heard he must be homo frugi,
A pious, holy, and religious man,
One free from mortal sin, a very virgin.
Mam. That makes it, Sir; he is so; BUT I BUY IT.
From the Pastoral Fragment, entitled "The Sad Shepherd."
Know ye the witch's dell?
Scathlock. No more than I do know the walks of hell.
Alken. Within a gloomy dimble she doth dwell,
Down in a pit, o'ergrown with brakes and briars.
Close by the ruins of a shaken abbey,
Torn with an earthquake down unto the ground,
'Mongst graves and grots, near an old charnel-house,
Where you shall find her sitting in her form,
As fearful and melancholic as that
She is about; with caterpillars' kells,
And knotty cobwebs, rounded in with spells.
Then she steals forth to relief in the fogs,
And rotten mists, upon the fens and bogs,
Down to the drowned lands of Lincolnshire;
To make ewes cast their lambs, swine eat their farrow,
And housewives' tun not work, nor the milk churn!
Writhe children's wrists, and suck their breath in sleep,
Get vials of their blood! and where the sea
Casts up his slimy ooze, search for a weed
To open locks with, and to rivet charms,
Planted about her in the wicked feat
Of all her mischiefs; which are manifold.
John. I wonder such a story could be told
Of her dire deeds.
George. I thought a witch's banks Had inclosed nothing but the merry pranks Of some old woman.
Yes, her malice more.
Scath. As it would quickly appear had we the store
Of his collects.
He knows her shifts and haunts
Alken. And all her wiles and turns. The venom'd plants
Wherewith she kills! where the sad mandrake grows,
Whose groans are deathful; and dead-numbing night-shade,
The stupefying hemlock, adder's tongue,
And martagan: the shrieks of luckless owls
We hear, and croaking night crows in the air!
Green-bellied snakes, blue fire-drakes in the sky,
And giddy flitter-mice with leather wings!
The scaly beetles, with their habergeons,
That make a humming murmur as they fly!
There in the stocks of trees, white fairies do dwell,
And span-long elves that dance about a pool,
With each a little changeling in their arms!
The airy spirits play with falling stars,
And mount the spheres of fire to kiss the moon!
While she sits reading by the glow-worm's light,
Or rotten wood, o'er which the worm hath crept,
The baneful schedule of her nocent charms.
FOR THE PURPOSE OF DOING A MISCHIEF TO A JOYFUL HOUSE, AND BRINGING AN EVIL SPIRIT INTO BIRTH IN THE MIDST OF IT.
From the Masque of Queens.
Charm. The owl is abroad, the bat and the toad,
And so is the cat-a-mountain;
The ant and the mole both sit in a hole,
And the frog peeps out of the fountain
The dogs they do bay, and the timbrels play
The spindle is now a turning;
The moon it is red, and the stars are fled,
But all the sky is a-burning.
1st Hag. I have been all day looking after A raven, feeding upon a quarter;
And soon as she turn'd her beak to the south,
I snatch'd this morsel out of her mouth
2nd Hag. I have been gathering wolves' hairs,
The mad dog's foam, and the adder's ears;
The spurging of a dead man's eyes,
And all since the evening star did rise
3rd Hag. I, last night, lay all alone
On the ground to hear the mandrake groan ;
And pluck'd him up, though he grew full low,
And as had done, the cock did crow.
4th Hag. And I have been choosing out this skull
From charnel-houses that were full;
From private grots, and public pits;
And frightened a sexton out of his wits.
5th Hag. Under a cradle I did creep,
By day; and when the child was asleep
At night, I suck'd the breath; and rose,
And pluck'd the nodding nurse by the
6th Hag. I had a dagger: what did I with that? Kill'd an infant to have his fat.
I scratch'd out the eyes of the owl before,
I tore the bat's wing;, what would you have more?
Yes, I have brought to help our vows
Hornèd poppy, cypress boughs,
The fig-tree wild that grows on tombs,
And juice that from the larch-tree comes,
The basilisk's blood and the viper's skin;
And now our orgies let us begin.
You fiends and fairies, if yet any be
Worse than ourselves, you that have quak'd to see
These knots untied (she unties them)-exhale earth's rottenest
And strike a blindness through these blazing tapers.
Charm. Deep, O deep we lay thee to sleep;
We leave thee drink by, if thou chance to be dry;
Both milk and blood, the dew and the flood;
We breathe in thy bed, at the foot and the head;
And when thou dost wake, Dame Earth shall quake
Such a birth to make, as is the Blue Drake.
Dame. Stay; all our charms do nothing win
Upon the night; our labor dies,
Our magic feature will not rise,
Nor yet the storm! We must repeat
More direful voices far, and beat
The ground with vipers, till it sweat.
Charm. Blacker go in, and blacker come out :
At thy going down, we give thee a shout;
At thy rising again thou shalt have two;
And if thou dost what we'd have thee do,
Thou shalt have three, thou shalt have four,
Hoo! har! har! hoo!
A cloud of pitch, a spur and a switch,
To haste him away, and a whirlwind play,
Before and after, with thunder for laughter
And storms of joy, of the roaring boy,
His head of a drake, his tail of a snake.
(A loud and beautiful music is heard, and the Witches vanish.)
A CATCH OF SATYRS.
Silenus bids his Satyrs awaken a couple of Sylvans, who have fallen asleep while they should have kept watch.
Buz, quoth the blue fly,
Hum, quoth the bee;
Buz and hum they cry,
And so do we.
In his eàr, in his nòse,
Thùs, do you see?
Hè ate the dormouse;
Else it was hè.