Transcript

Act IV · The Witch of Edmonton

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Act for of the Witch of Edmonton by William Raleigh, Thomas Decker, and
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John Ford. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
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public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org.
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Act the fourth Seene one Edmonton, the street enter Old Banks, and
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several countrymen. My horse this morning runs most piteously of the Glanders, whose
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nose yesternight was as clean as any man's here now coming from the barbers.
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And this I'll take my death font is longer this jish witch, Mother Sawyer,
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I took my wife and a serving man in our town of Edmonton's freshen
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in my bard, together such corn as country wedges carried to market, and
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examining my pol cat why she did so, she swore in her conscience she
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was bewitched. A what witch have we about us? But Mother Sawyer read
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the town of a else. All our wives will do nothing else but dance
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about other country. Maypoles or cattle fall a wise fool, our daughter's full
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and maid servants fall, and we ourselves shall not be able to stand if
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this beast we suffered degrees amongst us ent her hemlock with thatch and a lighted
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link. Burn the witch, the witch, the witch, the witch?
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What a handful of thatch plucked off a hovel of hers? And they say
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winter's burning? If she be a witch, she'll come running in. Fire
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it, fire it. I'll stand between thee and home for any danger.
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Hemlock sets fire to the thatch, and her mother sawyer running diseases, plagues,
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the curse of an old woman. Follow and fall upon you? What
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you whore? Must we fetch you with fire in your tail? These thatches
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is there's a jury to prove she is a witch? Twitch, Sir,
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Shall I be murdered by a bed of serpents? Help help enter, Sir
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Arthur Clarington and justice kill her? How now forbear this violence? A crew
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of villains are not of bloody hangman set to torment me. I know not
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why alas neighbor Banks, are you a ringleader in mischief? Fie to abuse
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an aged woman? Woman she's a hell cat, a witch? To prove
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her one we no sooner set far to the thatch of her house, which
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she came running as if the devil had sent her in a barrel of gunpowder,
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which trick is surely proves her a wish, as the pox in a
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snuffly nose is a sign of man. Is hor master, come come firing
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her thatch ridiculous? Take heed, sirs, what you do unless your proofs
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come better armed? Instead of turning her into a witch, you'll prove yourself
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stark fools, fools, errant fools, pray master justice? What do you
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call em? Hear me but one thing, this grumbling devil owes me.
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I know no good will ever since I've fell out with her, and breakest
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my back with beating me, I'll break it worse wilt thou You must not
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threaten her tis against law? Go on so, sir, ever since having
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a dune cow tied up in my backside, let me go thither? Or
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but can't mine eye on her? And if I should be hanged, I
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cannot choose, though it be ten times in an hour, but run to
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the cow and taking up her tail, kiss, saving your worship's reverence my
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cow behind that the whole town of Edmonton has been ready to be pissed themselves
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with laughing me to scorn. And this is long of her who the devil?
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Else? For is any man such an ass to be such a baby
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if he were not bewitched. Nay, she be a witch, and the
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harm she does end in such sports she may escape burning. Go go pray,
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vex her not. She is a subject, and you must not be
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judges of the law to strike her as you please. No, no,
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we'll strike her. I no lips to kiss, but my cows, rots
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and foul melodies, eat up thee and thine excellent old banks and countrymen,
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here's none now, mother sawyer. But this gentleman, myself and you,
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let us do some mild questions. Have you mild answer? Tell us honestly
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and with a free confession. We'll do our best to wean you from it.
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Are you a witch? Or no? I am none. Be not
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so furious, I am none. None but base curves so buck at me.
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I am none, or would I were. If every poor old woman
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be trod on thus by slaves, reviled, kicked, beaten as I am
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daily, she to be revenged had need turn witch. And you, to
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be revenged, have sold your soul to the devil. Keep thine own from
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him. You are too saucy, and too better saucy. By what commission
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can he send my soul on the devil's errand more than I can his?
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Is he a landlord of my soul to thrust it when he lists out of
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door? Now whom you speak to? A man? Perhaps no man?
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Men in gay clothes whose backs are laden with titles and with honors are within
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far more crooked than I am. And if I be a witch, more
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witch like, you're a base hell hound. And now, sir, let
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me tell you far and near she's bruted for a woman that maintains a spirit
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that sucks her. I defy thee. Go go, I can, if
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need be, bring one hundred voices in here in Edmonton that shall loud proclaim
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THEE for a secret and pernicious witch. Ha ha ha Do you laugh?
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Why laugh you at my name? The brave name this night gives me witch
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is the name of witch, So pleasing to thine ear pray, Sir,
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give way, and let her tongue gallop on a witch who is not hold
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not that universal name in scorn? Then what are your painted things in Prince's
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courts? Upon whose eyelids lust sets blowing fires to burn men's souls in sensual
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hot desires, upon whose naked perhaps a lecher's thought acts sin in foul shapes
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than can be wrought. But those work not as you do, no,
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but far worse. These by enchantments, can whole lordship's change to trunks of
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rich attire, turn plows and teams to flanders, mayors and coaches, and
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huge trains of servitors to a French butterfly. Have you not city witches who
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can turn their husband's weares, whole standing shops of wares to sumptuous tables,
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gardens of stolen sin in one year, wasting what scarce twenty win? Are
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not these witches? Yes? Yes, But the law has not an eye
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on these? Why then on me or any lean old bell dumb reverence once
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had wont to wait on age. Now an old woman, ill favored,
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grown with years, if she be poor, must be called bored or witch.
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Such so abused are the course witches. The other are the fine spun
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for the devil's own wearing. And so is thine she on whose tongue a
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whirlwind sits to blow a man out of himself from his soft pillow, to
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lean his head on rocks and fighting waves, is not that scold a witch?
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The man of law whose honeyed hopes. The credulous client draw as bees
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by tinkling basins to swarm to him from his own hive to work the wax
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in his He is no witch, not he. But these men witches are
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not in trading with Hell's merchandise like such as you are. That for a
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word a look, denial of a call of fire, kill men, children
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and cattle, Tell them, sir, that do so? Am I accused
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for such a one? Yes, twill be sworn. Dare any swear I
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ever tempted maiden with golden hooks flung at her chastity to come and lose her
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honor, and being lost to pay not a deniare for it. Some slaves
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have done it. Men witches can without the fangs of law drawing once one
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drop of blood put counterfeit, peace away for true gold, Buy one thing
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she speaks. I know now she's a witch, and dare no longer hold
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confidence with the fury. Let's then away, old woman, men thy life,
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get home and pray. Exume Sir Arthur injustice for his confusion. Enter
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the dog, my dear tomboy, welcome. I am torn in pieces by
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a pack of curs clapped all upon me, and for want of thee comfort
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me. Thou shalt have the teat anon bow wow, I'll have it now.
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I am dried up with cursing and with madness, and have yet no
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blood to moisten. These sweet lips of thine stand on thy hind legs up,
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kiss me, my tommy, and rub away some wrinkles on my brow,
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by making my old ribs to shrug for joy of thy fine tricks.
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What hast thou done? Let's tickle? Hast thou struck the horse lame as
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I bid thee yes and nipped the socking child. Ho Ho, my dainty,
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my little pearl. No lady loves her hound, monkey or paraquet as
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I do thee. The maid has been churning butter nine hours, but it
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shall not come. Let him eat cheese and choke. I had rare sport
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among the clowns in the Morris. I could dance out of my skin to
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hear thee. But my curl pate that jade, that foul tongued. Hoar
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nan Ratcliffe, who for a little soap licked by my sow, struck and
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almost had lamed it. Did I not charge thee to pinch that queen to
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the heart. Bow wow, wow, Look here else, enter Anne Ratcliffe
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mad see see see the man if the moon has built a new windmill.
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And what running there is from all quarters of the city to learn the art
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of grinding. Ho ho ho I thank thee my sweet mongrel hoider a box
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of the devil's false hopper. All the golden meal runs into the rich knaves
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purses, and the poor have nothing but bran hey dairy down or not you,
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Mother Sawyer, No I am a lawyer. Art thou i prithee.
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Let me scratch thy face, for thy pen has flayed off a great many
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men's skins. You'll have brave doings on the vacation, for knaves and fools
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are at variance in every village. I'll soon Mother Sawyer, and her own
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sow shall give in evidence against her. Touch her to the dark who rabs
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against her? Oh, my ribs are made of a pained hose, and
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they break. There's a Lancashire hornpipe in my throat. Hark how it tickles
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with doodle doodle, doodle doodle. Welcome, sergeants, welcome devil hands hands,
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hold hands and dance around, around around, dancing. Re enter Old
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Banks with Cuddy, Ratcliffe and countrymen. She's here, alas, my poor
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wife is here. Catch her fast and have her into some close chamber.
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Do for she's as many wives are start mad the witch, mother sawyer,
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the witch, the devil. Oh, my dear wife, help sirs.
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Anna is carried off by Ratcliffe and countrymen. You see your work, mother,
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bumby my work? Should she and all you hear unmad? Is the
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work mine? No? On my conscience, she would not hurt a devil
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of two years old? Re Enter Ratcliffe and countrymen. How now what's become
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of her? Nothing? She's become nothing but the miserable trunk of a wretched
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woman. We were in her hands, as reads an amated tempest, in
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spite of our strengths. Away she break, and nothing in her mouth being
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heard but the devil, the witch, the witch, the devil. She
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beat out her own brains and so died. It's any man's case. Be
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he never so wise to die when his brains go a wall gathering masters be
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ruled by me, That's all to adjustice. Hag done this, and thou
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shalt answer it. Banks, I defy thee get a warrant first to examine
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her, then shipper to Newgate. Here's enough if all her other villainies were
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pardoned to Burner for a witch. You have a spirit, they say,
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comes to you in the likeness of a dog. We shall see your cur
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at one time or another. If we do, unless it be the devil
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himself, he shall go out into the jail in one chain, and thou
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in another, be hanged thou in a third, and do thy worst.
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How father, you send the poor dumb thing howl into the jail? He
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that makes him? How makes me raw? Why foolish boy? Dost thou
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know him? No matter if I do or not? He's bailable, I
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am sure by law. But if the dog's words shall not be taken,
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mine shall thou bail for a dog? Yes, or a bitch? Either
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being my friend? Oh lie by the heels myself before Papperson shall is dog
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days are not come yet? I hope what marrow dog is it? Did
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the ever see him? See him? Yes, and giving him a bone
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to nor twenty times? The dog is no caught foisting hound that fills his
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belly full of base, wag his tail. Neither is he a citizen's water
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spaniel. Enticing his master to go a ducking twice or thrice a week,
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whilst his wife makes ducks and drakes at home. This is no Paris garden
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band dog neither that keeps a bow wow, wowing to have butchers bring their
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curves thither, and when all comes to all, they run away like sheep.
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Neither is this a black dog of Newgate, No Goodman's son fool,
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but the dog of hell Gate. I say, Goodman, father, fall,
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it's a lie. He's rich, a gross lie, as big as
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myself. The devil in Saint Dunstance will as soon drink with this poor cur
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as with any temple bar laundress that washes and rings lawyers, bow wow,
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Oh, the dogs here, the dog here? It was the voice of
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a dog, the voice of a dog. If that voice were a dog's,
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what voice had my mother? So am I a dog? Bow wow?
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Wow? It was all that. But so father, to make Cox
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toes of these clowns, however, will be Coxclumb no longer away? Therefore
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to the justice for a warrant. And then Gammer Gurton, have it your
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needle of witchcraft, and prick thine own eyes out, go peevish fools extent,
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Old Banks, Ratcliffe and countrymen. Ningle, you have liked to have
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spoiled all with your bowings. I was glad to have put them off with
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one of my dog tricks. On a sudden bewitched. It'll cost me nout
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to love thee a pox that Morris makes me spit in thy mouth. I
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dare not stay. Farewell, Ningle, you wore sons dog's nose. Farewell
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witch exit bow wow wow wow, mind him not. He is not worth
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thy worrying. Run at a fairer game, that foul mouthed night scurvy,
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Sir Arthur, fly at him, my Tommy, and pluck out the throat.
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No, there's a dog already biting conscience. That's a sure bloodhound.
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Come let's home and play our black work. Ended, we'll make holiday.
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Except Scene two. A bedroom in Carter's house, A bed thrust forth with
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Frank and Slumper and your Catherine brother brother so sound asleep, that's well waking.
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No, not I sister, He that's wounded here as I am.
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All My other hurts are bitings of a poor flea. But he that here
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once bleeds, is maimed incurably. My good sweet brother. For now my
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sister must grow up in you, though her loss strikes you through, and
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that I feel the blow is deep. I pray THEE be not cruel to
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kill me too by seeing you cast away in your own helpless sorrow. Good
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love, Sit up, and if you can give physic to yourself, I
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shall be well. Ah, I'll do my best. Thank you? What
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do you look about? For nothing? Nothing? But I was thinking,
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sister, dear heart, what who but a fool would thus be bound to
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a bed, having this room to walk in? Why do you talk?
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So? Would you were fus asleep? No? No, I'm not idle.
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But here's my meaning, being robbed as I am. Why should my
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soul, which marry was to hers, live in divorce and not fly after
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her? Why should I not walk hand in hand with death to find my
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love out there? Were? Well, indeed your time being come, when
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death is sent to call you, no doubt you shall meet her? Why
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should not I go without calling? Yes? Brother, so you might were
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there no place to go when you're gone. But only this truth, sister,
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thou sayest true. For when a man has been an hundred years hard
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traveling, o'er the tottering bridge of age. He's not the thousand part upon
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his way. All life is but a wandering to find home. When we're
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gone, we're there happy. Were man could hear his voyage end? He
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should not then answer how well or ill he steer'd his soul by heavens or
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by Hell's compass, how he put in losing blessed goodness is sure at such
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a sin, nor how life's deer provision he has spent, nor how far
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he, in his navigation went beyond commission. This were a fine reign to
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do ill and not hear of it again? Yet then were man more wretched
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than a beast? For sister our dead? Pay is sure the best tis
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sew the best or worst? And I wish heaven to pay, And so
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I know it will. That traitor, that devil Somerton, who stood in
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mine eye once as an angel home to his deservings. What villain but himself
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was loving me with Warback's soul, would pawn his own to hell to be
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revenged on my poor sister slaves A pair of merciless slaves. Speak no more
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of them. Oh, I think this talking hat you does mean no good.
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I'm sure I pay for it everywhere I have done. Then eat if
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you cannot sleep. You have these two days not tasted any food? Jane,
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is it ready? What's ready? What's ready? I am made ready
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a roasted chicken for you. Enter, made with chicken sweet? Would thou
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eat ah pretty stomach on a sudden? Yes? This one in the house
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can play upon a lute. Good girl. Let's hear him too, you
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shall, dear brother, exit, maide. Would I were a musician,
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you should hear how I would feast your ear lute plays within? Stay,
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mend your pillow and raise you higher. I'm up too high? Am I
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not? Sister? Now? No? No? Tis well? Fall too?
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Fall? Two? A knife? Here's never a knife, brother,
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I'll look out yours. Takes up his vest, enter the dog, shrugging
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as it were for joy and dances, sister, Oh, sister, a
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mill upon a sudden and can eat nothing in very deed? You shall.
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The want of food makes you so faint. Ha, seize the bloody knife.
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Here's none in your pocket. I'll go fetch a knife. Exit hastily,
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will you tis well? All's well? Frank searches first one pocket,
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then the other, finds the knife, then lies down the dog runs off.
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The spirit of Susan comes to the bedside. Frank stares at it,
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and then turns to the other side, But the spirit is there too.
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Meanwhile, enter Winifred as a page and stands sadly at the bed's foot.
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Frank of fright, it sits up. The spirit vanishes. W Art thou
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a last creature? So am I too, when ah my sheep page,
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for your sake, I put on a shape that's false. Yet do I
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wear a heart true to you as your own would Mine and thine were fellows
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in one house. Kneel buy me here on this side. Now, how
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darest thou come to mock me on both sides of my bed? When,
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but just now outface me, stare upon me with strange postures, turn my
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soul wild by a face in which were drawn a thousand ghosts sleapt newly from
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their graves to pluck me into a winding sheet. Believe it, I came
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no nearer to you than yon place at your bed's feet, and of the
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house had leave, calling myself your horseboy in to come and visit my sick
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master. And twas my fancy some windmill in my brains for want of sleep,
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would I might never sleep, so you could rest. But you have
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plucked a thunder on your head whose noise cannot cease. Suddenly, Why should
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you dance at the wedding of a second wife when scarce the music which you
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heard at mine had tain a farewell of you? Oh this was ill.
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And they who thus can give both hands away in the end shall want their
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best limbs winifred the chamber doors fast, yes, sit they then down,
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and when thus heard me speak, melt into tears. Yet I to save
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those eyes of thine from weeping, being to write a story of us two
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instead of ink dipped sad pen in blood. When of thee I took leave,
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I went abroad only for pillage as a free booter. What gold?
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So where I got to make it thine? To please a father I have
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heaven displeased. Striving to cast two wedding rings in one through my bad workmanship,
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I now have none. I have lost her and THEE. I know
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she's dead, but you have me still Nay her this hand murdered, and
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so I lose thee too. Oh me be quiet, for thou my evidence,
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art, jury and judge. Sit quiet, and I'll tell all while
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they are conversing in a low tone. Enter at one door, Carter and
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Catherine, and at the other the dog pawing softly at Frank. I have
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run maddening up and down to find you been laden with the heaviest news that
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ever poor daughter carried. Why is the boy dead dead, sir? Oh
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father, we are costened. You are told the murderous things in prison.
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And he laughs, Here this villain killed my sister. See else. See
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takes up his vest and shows the knife to her father, who secures it.
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A bloody knife in his pocket. Bless me patience seeing them the knife,
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the knife, the knife, what knife? E said? The dog
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had to cut my chicken up? My chicken. Be you, my carver
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father, that I will how the devil steals our brows after doing ill my
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stomach and my sight had taken from me. All is not well within me.
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I believe thee boy, I that have seen so many moons clap their
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horns on other men's foreheads to strike them sick. Yet mine escape and be
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well, I that never cast away a fee upon jurnals. But Emma's sound
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is an honest man's conscience. When he's dying, I should cry out,
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as thou dost all is not well within me? Felt I but the bag
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of thy impostumes, ah, poor villain, Ah, my wounded rascal.
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All my grief is I have now a small hope of THEE. Do the
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surgeon say my wounds are dangerous? Then yes, yes, and there's no
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way with THEE. But one, what are you here to open them?
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I'll go to fetch him. I'll make a holiday to see THEE as I
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wish. A wondrous kind old man aside to Frank yours sends the black or
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so to abuse his goodness allowed master, how do you pretty well? Now?
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Boy, I have such odd qualms come across my stomach. I'll fall
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to boy, cut me aside? You have cut me? I'm sure a
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leg or wings? Sir, No, no, no, a wing aside?
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Would I had wings but to soar up yond tower? But here is
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a clog that hinders me. Re enter carter with servants burying the body.
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Susan in a coffin. What's this that? What? Oh? Now I
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see her tis a young wench, my daughter, Sir Rah, sick to
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the death and hearing THEE to be an excellent rascal for letting blood. She
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looks out at a casement and cries, help, help stay that man him
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I must have, or none for pity's sake, remove her. See she
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stares with one broad open eye still in my face. Thou puttest both hers
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out like a villain, as thou art. Yet see she is willing to
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lend thee one again to find out the murderer. And that's thyself, O
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man, thou last, So shalt thou in the jail run for officers,
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Oh, thou masterless slave. She was though yet above ground in her grave
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to me, but thou hast torn it up again. Mine eye's too much
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drowned. Now must fetch officers, exit Catherine and servants with the body of
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Susan, for whom for thee sir rah, sirrah. Some knives have foolish
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poises upon them, but thine has a villainous one look showing the bloody knife.
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Oh, it is enameled with the heart blood of thy hated wife,
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my beloved daughter. What sayest thou to this evidence? Ist not sharp?
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Doest not strike home? Thou canst not answer honestly and without a trembling heart
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to this one point, this terrible, bloody point I beseech you, sir,
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strike him no more. You see he's dead already. Oh, sir,
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you held his horses. You are as errant a rogue as he up
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go you too, as you're a man. Throw not upon that woman your
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loads of tyranny, for she is innocent. Haw How a woman just grown
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to a fashion for woman in all countries to wear breeches. I'm not,
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as my disguise speaks me, sir, his page, but his first only
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wife, his lawful wife. How how more fire and a bedstraw? The
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wrongs which singly fell upon your daughter on me or multiplied. She lost a
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life, But I an husband and myself must lose. If you call him
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to a bar for what he has done, he has done it, then
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yes, tis confessed to me. Dost that betray me? Oh pardon me,
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dear heart. I'm mad to lose thee and know not what I speak.
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But if thou didst I must arraign this father for two sins, adultery
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and murder. Re enter Catherine, sir, they are come arraign me for
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what thou wilt. All Middlesex knows me better for an honest man than the
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middle of a market place knows THEE for an honest woman. Ry sirrah,
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and don your tacklings. Rig yourself for the gallows, or I'll carry THEE
28:55
thither on my back. Your trowell shall to the jail. Go with you.
29:00
There be as fine newgate birds as she that can draw him in parks
29:04
on wounds. I have served THEE, and my wages now are paid.
29:11
Yet my worse punishment shall I hope be stayed exit and of act for