Transcript

Act II · The Witch of Edmonton

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Act Too of The Witch of Edmonton by William Rowley, Thomas Stacker, 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 second scene one the fields near Edmonton. Enter mother Sawyer gathering
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sticks. And why on me? Why should the envious world throw all their
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scandalous malice upon me? Cause I am poor, deformed and ignorant, and
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like a bow buckled and bent together by some more strong in mischiefs than myself?
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Must I for that be made a common sink for all the filth and
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rubbish of men's tongues to fall and run into. Some call me which,
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and being ignorant of myself, they go about to teach me how to be
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one, urging that my bad tongue, by their bad usage, made so
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for speaks, their cattle, doth bewitched, their corn, themselves, their
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servants, and their babes at nurse. This they enforce upon me, and
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in part make me to credit it. And here comes one of my chief
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adversaries, enter old becks out out upon thee. Witch dost call me witch?
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I do witch I do, and worse I would knew I a name
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more hateful? What makest thou upon my ground? Gather a few rotten sticks
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to warm me down with them when I bid thee quickly, ah, make
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thy bows rattle in my skin, else you won't churl cutthroat miser there they
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are, throws them down? Would they stuck a cross, thy throat,
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thy bowls, thy more thy midriff? Sayest thou me, so hag out
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of my ground? Beats her? Dost strike me slave, curmudgeon? Now
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thy bones ache, thy joints, cramp and convulsion, stretch and crack thy
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sinews cursing thou hag, take that, and that beats her an exit,
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strike do and withered? May that hand and arm whose blows have lamed me
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drop from the rotten trunk, abuse me, beat me, call me hag?
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And which? What is the name? Where? And by what art
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learned? What spells? What charms or invocations? May the thing called familiar
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be purchased, and your Cuddy Banks and several other clowns a new head for
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the tabor and silver tipping for the pipe. Remember that, and forget not
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five leash of new bells. Double bells crooked lane, You shall have them
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straight in crooked double bells are, if it be possible, double bells,
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double coxcombs. Trebles, Buy me trebles, all trebles, for our purpose
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is to be in the altitudes. All trebles, not a mean, not
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one. The Morris is so cast. Will have neither mean nor base in
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our company. Fellow Rowland, what nor a counter by no means no hunting
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counter. Leave that to Enfield chase men. All trebles, all in the
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altitudes. Now for the disposing of parts in the Morris, little or no
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labor will serve. Have you be that minded to follow your leader? No
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me an ancient honor belonging to our house. For a four horse are a
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team in four gallon to the Morris. My further's stable is not unfurnished.
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So much for the four horse, But how for a good hobby horse.
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For a hobby horse, let me see almanac midsummer moon. Let me see
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ye when the moon's in the fall, then's wit in the wane. No
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more use your best skill. Your Morris will suffer an eclipse, an eclipse
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a strange one, strange, yes, and most sudden. Remember the four
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gallant and forget the hobby horse. The whole body of your morris will be
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darkened there be of us. But tis no matter. Forget the hobby horse.
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Curry bangs, have you forgot since he pays it? From Enfield Chase
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to Edmonton? Cuddy, honest Cuddy, cass they stuff suffer, may yee,
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all it shall be known. I can take mine ease as well as
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another man. Seek your hobby horse where you can get him. Cuddy,
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you're honest, Cuddy. We can fess, and we are sorry for our
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neglect. The old horse shall have a new bridle, the comparison's new painted,
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the tail repaired the snaffle, and the boss is new, saffroned ore
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kind, honest, loving, ingenious, affable Cuddy, to show, I
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am not flint, but affable, as you say, very well stuffed a
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kind of warm dough or puff paste. I relent, I connive, most
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affable Jack. Let the hobby horse provide a strong back. He shall not
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want a belly when I am on him. But seeing Sawyer owed me Mother
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Sawyer, the old witch of Edmonton, our mirth be not crossed. Bless
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us Cuddy, and let her curse her tether eye out. What does now
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ungirt unblessed, says the proverb. But my girdle shall serve for a riding
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knot and a feed for all the witches in Christendom. What wouldst thou a
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davil cannot abide to be crossed and scorns to come at any man's whissel,
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Away with the witch, Away with a witch, ad exempt in strange pastures,
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Still vexed, still tortured. That curmudgeon Banks is ground of all my
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scandal. I am shunned and hated, like a sickness made of scorn,
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to all degrees and sexes. I have heard Old Beldam's talk of familiars in
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the shape of mice, rats, ferrets, weasels, and I what not
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what that have appeared and sucked? Some say their blood, But by what
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means they came acquainted with them? I am now ignorant. Would some power,
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good or bad instruct me which way I might be revenged upon this churl?
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I'd go out of myself and give this fury leave to dwell within this
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ruined cottage, ready to fall with aid abdure all goodness, be at hate,
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with prayer and study curses, imprecations, blasphemous speeches, oaths, detested
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oaths, or anything that's ill, so I might work revenge upon this miser,
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this black cur that barks and bites and sucks the very blood of me
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and my credit. Tis all one to be a witch as to be counted
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one vengeance shame ruin light upon that canker enter a black doc How have I
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found THEE cursing? Now thou art mine own thine? What art thou he?
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Thou hast so often importuned to appear to THEE the devil, bless me
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the devil. Come, do not fear. I love THEE much too well
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to hurt or fright THEE. If I seem terrible, it is to such
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as hate me. I have found thy love unfeigned, have seen and pitied
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thy open wrongs, and come out of my love to give THEE just revenge
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against thy foes. May I believe THEE to confirm it. Command me do
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any mischief unto man or beast, and I'll affect it on condition that,
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uncompelled, thou make a deed of gift of soul and body to me out
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aless my soul and body, and that instantly and seal it with thy blood.
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If thou deniest, I'll tear thy body in a thousand pieces. I
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know not where to seek relief, but shall I? After such covenancy,
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you'll see full revenge on all that wrong me, silly woman. The devil
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is no liar to such as he loves. Didst ever know or hear the
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devil a liar to such as he affects? Then I am thine at least
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so much of me as I can call mine own equivocations, art mine or
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no speak, or I'll tear all vine, seal it with thy blood.
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She pricks her arm, which she sucks thunder and lightning. See now I
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dare call thee mine for proof, command me instantly. I'll run to any
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mischief goodness can I none? And I desire as little. There's an old
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child one banks that the lamed. THEE called thee witch the same first upon
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him. I'd be revenged. Thou shalt do, but name how go touch
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his life? I cannot hast thou not fowed Go kill the slave? I
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won not. I'll cancel then my gift dost laugh? Why wilt not kill
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him? Fall? Because I cannot? Though we have power, know it
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is circumscribed and tied in limits. Though he be cursed to thee, yet
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of himself he's loving to the world and charitable to the poor. Now men
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that as he love goodness, though in smallest measure, live without compass of
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our reach. His cattle and corn, I'll kill and mild you, but
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his life until I take him as I late found thee cursing and swearing I've
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no power to touch work on his corn and kettle. Then I shall.
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The witch of Edmonton shall see his fall if she at least put credit in
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my power and in mine only make horizons to me, and none but me,
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say how and in what manner? I'll tell THEE when thou wishest ill,
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corn, man or beast, wouldst spoil or kill, turn thy back
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against the sun and mumble this short horizon. If thou to death or shame,
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pursuem sanc de bacator, No men toum if thou to death or shame
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pursuem sank to be say to a normentum, perfect farewell. Our first made
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promises will put in execution against banks, exit contaminator, No mentum. I'm
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an expert scholar, speak Latin, or I know not well what language,
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as well as the best of them. But who comes here? Re enter
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Cuddy Banks, the son of my worst foe to death. Pursue him.
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It sank to be. Say to a normentuum, what's that? She mumbles,
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the devil's pattern? Noster? Would it where else? Mother? Sawyer?
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Good morrow, ill morrow to thee and all the world that flo out
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poor old woman to death. Pursue them, and sunk to be. Say
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to a normendum, nay, good gamma sawyer? What eir? It pleases
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my father to call you? I know you are a witch? Which would
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you wear else? I faith your father knows I am by this? I
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would he did, And so in time may you I would I might else?
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But which or no? Which? You are a motherly woman. And
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though my father be a kind of God, bless us as they say,
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I have an earnest suit to you. And if you'll be so kind to
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calm me one good turn, I'll be so courteous as to cob you another.
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What's that to spurn? Beat me and call me? Which? As
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your kind father doth my father, I'm ashamed to own him. If he
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has hurt the head of thy credit. There's money to buy thee a plaster,
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gives her money and a small courtesy I would require at thy hands.
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You seem a good young man. And aside, I'm dissemble the better to
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accomplish my revenge. But for this silver, what woulds to have me do
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bewitch thee? No, by no means I am bewitched already. I would
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have THEE so good as to unwitch me, or witch another with me for
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company. I understand THEE not be plain my son as a pike staff.
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Mother. You know Kate Carter, the wealthy yeoman's daughter. What of her
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that same party has bewitched me, bewitched thee bewitched me, hiski or rebus.
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I saw a little devil fly out of her eye like a burbolt,
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which sticks at this hour up to the feathers in my heart. Now my
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request is to send one of thy watchee columns either to pluck out that will
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stick another as fast in hers do. And here's my hand. I am
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thine for three lives. Aside, we shall have sport thou art in love
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with her up to the very hilts. Mother, and thou wouldst have me
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make her love thee too? Aside I think she'll prove a witch in earnest.
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Yes, I could find in my heart to strike her three quarters deep
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in love with me too. But dost thou think that I can do it?
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And I alone, truly, mother, which I do verily believe so,
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and when I see it done, I shall be half persuaded. So
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too, it is enough what art can do? Be sure of. Turn
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to the west, and whatsoe'er thou hearest or seest, Stand silent and be
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not afraid. She stamps on the ground. The dog appears and finds and
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leaps on her. Afraid, Mother witch, turn my face to the west.
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I said, I should always have a back friend of her. And
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now it's out, and her little devil shall be hungry, come sneaking behind
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me like a cowardly catchpole, clap his talons on my haunches. Tis wounded
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cold, Sure I duddo and shake like an aspen leaf every joint of me
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to scandal and disgrace pursue him. It sunk to be said to a normantuum
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acp doug, how now my son, how is scarce in a clean life?
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Mother witch? But did your goblin and you spout Latin together? What
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kind of charm I work by? Didst thou hear me? I heard?
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I know not the devil? What mumble? And a scurvy bass tone like
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a drum that had taken cold in the head. The last muster very comfortable
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words? What were they? And who taught them? You a great learned
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man, learned man, learned devil? It was as soon? But what
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what comfortable news about the party? Who Kate Carter? I'll tell thee thou
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knowest the style at the west end of thy father's peas field be there to
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morrow nights after sunset, And the first live thing thou seest be sure to
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follow, and that shall bring thee to thy love in the peas field?
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Has she a minded codlings already? The first living thing I meet, you
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say, shall bring me to her, to a sight of her? I
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mean she will seem wantonly coy and flee thee. But follow her close and
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boldly do but embrace her in thy arms once, and she is thine own
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at the style at the west end of my father's peace land. The first
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live thing I see, follow and embrace her, and she shall be zign
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nay, and I come to embracing once she shall be mine. I'll go
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near to make it. Eight little else Exit a bull well bandied. Now
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the set's half one, the father's wrong. I'll rake upon the sun.
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Exit Scene two, Carter's House. Enter Carter, Warbeck and Somerton. How
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now, gentlemen Cloudy, I know, Master Warbeck, you are in a
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fog about my daughter's marriage. And can't you blame me, sir, nor
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you me justly. Wedding and hanging are tied up both in a proverb,
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and destiny is the juggler that unties the knot. My hope is you are
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reserved to a richer fortune than my poor daughter. However, your promise is
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a kind of debt. I confess it, which honest men should pay.
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Yet some gentlemen break in that point. Now and then, by your leave,
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sir, I confess thou hast had a little wrong in the wench.
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But patience is the only salve to cure it. Since Thorny has won the
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wench, he has most reason to wear her. Love in this kind admits
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no reason to wear her. Then love's a fool, And what wise man
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will take exception? Come frolic ned where every man master of his own fortune
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fate might pick straws and destiny go a wool gathering. You hold yours and
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a string, though tis well, But if there be any equity, look
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thou to me like you, sirge ere long in my love to her sister
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Catherine. Indeed, they are a pair of arrows drawn out of one quiver,
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and should fly at an even length. If she do run after her
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sister, look for the same mercy at my hands as I have received at
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thye. She'll keep a surer compass. I have too strong a confidence to
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mistrust her, and that confidence is a wind that has blown many a married
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man ashore at Cuckold's haven. I can tell you I wish yours more prosperous,
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though whate'er you wish, I'll master my promise to him, Yes,
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as you did to me. No more of that if you love me,
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but for the more assurance the next offered occasion to'll consummate the marriage, and
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that, once sealed, leave the manager of the rest to my care.
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But see the Bridegroom and bride come the new pair of sheffield knives, fitted
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both to one sheath. The sheath might have been better fitted if somebody had
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theed you, but no harsh language. If thou lovest me, Frank Thorny
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has done no more than I or thou, or any man thinks so standing
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would have attempted. Enter Frank Thorny and susan good moral master, bridegroom,
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come give thee joy. Mayst thou live long and happy in thy fair choice.
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I thank you, gentlemen, kind Master Warbeck, I find you loving
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Thorny, that creature much good. Do THEE, with her virtue and beauty,
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hold fair mixture in her? She is rich, no doubt in both.
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Yet were she fairer? Thou art right worthy of her love? Her
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Thorny tis nobleness in THEE in her, but duty the match is fair and
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equal the success I leave to censure. Farewell, mistress bride, till now
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elected, thy old scorn de ride exit, good Master Thorny. Nay,
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you shall not part till you see the barrel run at gentlemen accent with summerton.
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Why change in your face? Sweetheart? Who I for nothing, dear
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say not so? A spirit of your constancy cannot endure this change? For
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nothing, I have observed strange variations in you, in me, in you,
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sir awake, you seem to dream, and in your sleep you utter
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sudden and distracted accents like one at enmity with peace, dear loving husband,
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if I may dare to challenge any interest in you, give me the reason
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fully you may trust my breast as safely as your own with what you half
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amazed me. Prithee, Come, you shall not, indeed you shall not
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shut me from partaking the least dislike that grieves you. I am all yours,
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and I all fine. You are not if you keep the least grief
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from me. But I find the cause it grew from me from you,
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from some distaste in me or my behavior. You are not kind in the
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concealment less, sir, I am young, silly, and plain, more
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strange to those contents a wife should offer. Say, but in what I
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fail, I'll study satisfaction. Come in nothing I know I do knew I
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as well in what you should not long be sullen, prithee love. If
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I have been immodest or too bold, speak it in a frown, if
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peevishly too nice, show it in a smile. Thy liking is the glass
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by which I'll have it. My behavior. Wherefore, doest weep. Now,
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you sweet, have the power to make me passionate as an april day.
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Now smile, then weep, Now pale, then crimson red. You
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are the powerful moon of my blood sea, to make it ebb or flow
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into my face as you look, change, change thy conceit. I prithe,
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thou art all perfection. Diana herself swells in thy thoughts and moderates thy
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beauty within thy left eye. Amorous Cupid sits feathering love shafts, whose golden
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heads he dipp'd in thy chaste breast. In the other lies blushing Adonis,
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scarfed in modesties, and still as wanton Cupid blows love fires Adonis quenches out
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unchaste desires. And from these two I briefly do imply a perfect emblem of
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thy modest eye. Then prithee, dear, maintain no more dispute, For
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when thou speak'st it's fit, all tongues be mute. Come come, these
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golden strings of flattery shall not tie up my speech. Sir, I must
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know the ground of your disturbance. Then look here, For here here is
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the fen in which this hydra of discontent grows rank heaven she where in mine
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own bosom. Here the cause has root. The poisoned leeches twist about my
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heart, and will I hope confound me? You speak riddles. Take it
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plainly, then, twas told me by a woman known and approved in palmistry,
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I should have two wives, Two wives, Sir, I take it
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exceeding likely. But let not concede hurt you. You're afraid to bury me?
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No, no, my Winifred? How say you Winifred? You forget
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me? No, I forget myself, Susan. In what talking of wives?
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I pretend Winifred, a maid that at my mother's waited on me before
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thyself, I hope, sir, she may live to take my place.
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But why should all this move you? The poor girl aside? She has
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it before THEE, and that's the fiend torments me. Yet why should this
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raise me? Me? Within you? Such presages prove often false? Or
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say it should be true that I should have another wife? Yes, many,
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if they be good, the better, never any equal to THEE.
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In goodness, Sir, I could wish I were much better for you.
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Yet if I knew your fate ordained you for another, I could wish so
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well. I love you and your hopeful pleasure me and my grave and my
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poor virtues added to my successor. Prithee, prithee, talk not of deaths
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or graves. Thou art so rare a goodness as death would rather put itself
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to death than murder thee. But we, as all things else, are
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mutable and changing. Yet you still move in your first sphere of discontent.
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Sweet chase those clouds of sorrow and shine clearly on me. At my return,
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I will return, ah me. Will you then leave me for a
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time I'm must, But how as birds their young, or loving bees their
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hives to fetch home richer dainties leave me now has my fear mad its effect?
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You shall not cost it my life. You shall not why your reason
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like to the lap wing, have you all this while with your false love
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deluded me, pretending counterfeat senses for your discontent? And now at last it
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is by chance, though from you what what? By chance? Your pre
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appointed meeting of single combat with young warbacks? Even so dissemble not ti to
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a parent? Then in his look I read it, deny it not I
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see the parent cost it my undoing, and unto that my life. I
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will not leave you, not until when till he and you be friends.
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Was this your cunning and then flam me off with an old witch? Two
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wives and wi it, Fred, You are not so kind indeed as I
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imagined aside, and you are more fond by far than I expected. It
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is a virtue that attends thy kind, but of our business within, and
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by this kiss I'll anger thee no more troth, Chuck, I will not.
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You shall have no just cause, Dear Sue, I shall not,
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except end of act too