_Saw._ And why on me? why should the envious world Throw all their scandalous malice upon me?

'Cause I am poor, deform'd, and ignorant, And like a bow buckled and bent together, By some more strong in mischiefs than myself, Must I for that be made a common sink, For all the filth and rubbish of men's tongues To fall and run into? Some call me Witch, And being ignorant of myself, they go About to teach me how to be one; urging, That my bad tongue (by their bad usage made so) Forespeaks their cattle, doth bewitch their corn, Themselves, their servants, and their babes at nurse.

This they enforce upon me; and in part Make me to credit it; and here comes one Of my chief adversaries.

_Enter_ Old BANKS.

_Banks._ Out, out upon thee, witch!

_Saw._ Dost call me witch?

_Banks._ I do, witch, I do; and worse I would, knew I a name more hateful. What makest thou upon my ground?

_Saw._ Gather a few rotten sticks to warm me.

_Banks._ Down with them when I bid thee, quickly; I'll make thy bones rattle in thy skin else.

_Saw._ You won't, churl, cut-throat, miser!--there they be; [_Throws them down._] would they stuck across thy throat, thy bowels, thy maw, thy midriff.

_Banks._ Say'st thou me so, hag? Out of my ground! [_Beats her._

_Saw._ Dost strike me, slave, curmudgeon! Now thy bones aches, thy joints cramps, and convulsions stretch and crack thy sinews!

_Banks._ Cursing, thou hag! take that, and that. [_Beats her, and exit._

_Saw._ Strike, do!--and wither'd may that hand and arm Whose blows have lamed me, drop from the rotten trunk!

Abuse me! beat me! call me hag and witch!

What is the name? where, and by what art learn'd, What spells, what charms or invocations?

May the thing call'd Familiar be purchased?

_Saw._ Still vex'd! still tortured! that curmudgeon Banks Is ground of all my scandal; I am shunn'd And hated like a sickness; made a scorn To all degrees and s.e.xes. I have heard old beldams Talk of familiars in the shape of mice, Rats, ferrets, weasels, and I wot not what, That have appear'd, and suck'd, some say, their blood; But by what means they came acquainted with them, I am now ignorant. Would some power, good or bad, Instruct me which way I might be revenged Upon this churl, I'd go out of myself, And give this fury leave to dwell within This ruin'd cottage, ready to fall with age!

Abjure all goodness, be at hate with prayer, And study curses, imprecations, Blasphemous speeches, oaths, detested oaths, Or anything that's ill; so I might work Revenge upon this miser, this black cur, That barks and bites, and sucks the very blood Of me, and of my credit. 'Tis all one, To be a witch, as to be counted one: Vengeance, shame, ruin light upon that canker!

_Enter a_ Black Dog.

_Dog._ Ho! have I found thee cursing? now thou art Mine own.

_Saw._ Thine! what art thou?

_Dog._ He thou hast so often Importuned to appear to thee, the devil.

_Saw._ Bless me! the devil!

_Dog._ Come, do not fear; I love thee much too well To hurt or fright thee; if I seem terrible, It is to such as hate me. I have found Thy love unfeign'd; have seen and pitied Thy open wrongs, and come, out of my love, To give thee just revenge against thy foes.

_Saw._ May I believe thee?

_Dog._ To confirm't, command me Do any mischief unto man or beast.

And I'll effect it, on condition That, uncompell'd, thou make a deed of gift Of soul and body to me.

_Saw._ Out, alas!

My soul and body?

_Dog._ And that instantly, And seal it with thy blood: if thou deniest, I'll tear thy body in a thousand pieces.

_Saw._ I know not where to seek relief: but shall I, After such covenants seal'd, see full revenge On all that wrong me?

_Dog._ Ha, ha! silly woman!

The devil is no liar to such as he loves-- Didst ever know or hear the devil a liar To such as he affects?

_Saw._ Then I am thine; at least so much of me As I can call mine own--

_Dog._ Equivocations?

Art mine or no? speak, or I'll tear--

_Saw._ All thine.

_Dog._ Seal't with thy blood.

[_She p.r.i.c.ks her arm, which he sucks.--Thunder and lightning._

See! now I dare call thee mine!

For proof, command me: instantly I'll run To any mischief; goodness can I none.

_Saw._ And I desire as little. There's an old churl, One Banks--

_Dog._ That wrong'd thee: he lamed thee, call'd thee witch.

_Saw._ The same; first upon him I'd be revenged.

_Dog._ Thou shalt; do but name how?

_Saw._ Go, touch his life.

_Dog._ I cannot.

_Saw._ Hast thou not vow'd? Go, kill the slave!

_Dog._ I will not.

_Saw._ I'll cancel then my gift.

_Dog._ Ha, ha!

_Saw._ Dost laugh!

Why wilt not kill him?

_Dog._ Fool, because I cannot.

Though we have power, know, it is circ.u.mscribed, And tied in limits: though he be curst to thee, Yet of himself, he is loving to the world, And charitable to the poor; now men, that, As he, love goodness, though in smallest measure, Live without compa.s.s of our reach: his cattle And corn I'll kill and mildew; but his life (Until I take him, as I late found thee, Cursing and swearing) I have no power to touch.