In some dark cloud; and as I oft have seen
Dragons and serpents in the elements,
Appear thou now so to me. Art thou i'th' sea ?
Muster

up all the monsters from the deep, And be the ugliest of them; so that my bulch' Show but his swarth cheek to me, let earth

cleave,
And break from hell, I care not! could I run
Like a swift powder-mine beneath the world,
Up would I blow it all, to find out thee,
Though I lay ruin'd in it. Not yet come!
I must then fall to my old

prayer: Sanctibicetur nomen tuum. Not yet come! [the] worrying of wolves, biting of mad dogs, the manges, and the

Enter Dog, white.

Ha! no,

Dog. How now! whom art thou cursing?
Saw. Thee!
, 'tis

my black cur I am cursing, For not attending on me.

Dog. I am that cur.
Saw. Thou liest : hence! come not nigh me.
Dog. Bow, wow!
Saw. Why dost thou thus appear to me in

white,
As if thou wert the ghost of my dear love?

Dog. I am dogged, [and] list not to tell thee; yet,—to torment thee, —my whiteness puts thee in mind of thy winding-sheet.

Saw. Am I near death?

Dog. Yes, if the dog of hell be near thee; when the devil comes to thee as a lamb, have at thy throat!

Saw. Off, cur!

Dog. He has the back of a sheep, but the belly of an otter; devours by sea and land. “Why am I in white ?" didst thou not pray to me?

Saw. Yes, thou dissembling hell-hound, Why now in white more than at other times?

Dog. Be blasted with the news! whiteness is day's foot-boy, a forerunner to light, which shows thy old rivell’d face: villainies are stripp'd naked; the witch must be beaten out of her cock-pit. Saw. Must she? she shall not; thou’rt a lying

spirit: Why to mine eyes art thou a flag of truce ? I am at peace with none; 'tis the black colour Or none, which I fight under: I do not like Thy puritan paleness; glowing furnaces Are far more hot than they which flame outright. If thou my old dog art, go and bite such As I shall set thee on.

Dog. I will not.

Saw. I'll sell myself to twenty thousand fiends, To have thee torn in pieces then.

Dog. Thou canst not; thou art so ripe to fall into hell, that no more of my kennel will so much as bark at him that hangs thee.

Saw. I shall run mad.

Dog. Do so, thy time is come to curse, and rave, and die; the glass of thy sins is full, and it must run out at gallows.

Saw. It cannot, ugly cur, I'll confess nothing; And not confessing, who dare come and swear I have bewitch'd them? I'll not confess one

mouthful.
Dog. Choose, and be hang’d or burn'd.

Saw. Spite of the devil and thee,
I'll muzzle up my tongue from telling tales.

Dog. Spite of thee and the devil, thou'lt be condemn'd.

Saw. Yes! when ?

Dog. And ere the executioner catch thee full in's claws, thou'lt confess all.

Saw. Out dog!

Dog. Out witch! thy trial is at hand : Our prey being had, the devil does laughing stand.

[Goes aside.

Enter Old BANKS, RATCLIFFE, and Countrymen.

Witch, you

Banks. She's here ; attach her. must go with us.

[They seize her. Saw. Whither? to hell ?

Banks. No, no, no, old crone ; your mittimus shall be made thither, but your own jailors shall receive you. Away with her! Saw. My Tommy! my sweet Tom-boy! Oh,

thou dog!

Dost thou now fly to thy kennel and forsake me!
Plagues and consumptions- [She is carried off

Dog. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Let not the world witches or devils condemn;
They follow us, and then we follow them.

Enter Cuddy BANKS.

Cud. I would fain meet with mine ingle once more; he has had a claw amongst them: my rival that loved my wench is like to be hang'd like an innocent. A kind cur where he takes, but where he takes not, a dogged rascal; I know the villain loves me. [Dog barks.] No! art thou there? [Seeing the Dog,] that's Tom's voice, but ’tis not he; this is a dog of another hair, this. Bark, and not speak to me? not Tom then; there's as much difference betwixt Tom and this, as betwixt white and black.

Dog. Hast thou forgot me ?

Cud. That's Tom again; prithee, ningle, speak, is thy name Tom?

Dog. Whilst I serv'd my old dame Sawyer, it was; I am gone from her now.

Cud. Gone ? away with the witch then too! she'll never thrive if thou leav'st her; she knows no more how to kill a cow, or a horse, or a sow, without thee, than she does to kill a goose.

Dog. No, she has done killing now, but must be killed for what she has done; she's shortly to be hang’d.

Cud. Is she? in my conscience if she be, 'tis thou hast brought her to the.gallows, Tom.

Dog. Right; I serv'd her to that purpose; 'twas part of my wages.

Cud. This was no honest servant's part, by your leave, Tom. This remember, I pray you, between you and I; I entertain'd you ever as a dog, not as a devil.

Dog. True; And so I used thee doggedly, not devilishly; I have deluded thee for sport to laugh at: The wench thou seek’st afterthou neverspak'st with, But a spirit in her form, habit, and likeness. Ha, ha!

Cud. I do not then wonder at the change of your garments, if you can enter into shapes of women too.

Dog. Any shape, to blind such silly eyes as thine ; but chiefly those coarse creatures, dog, or cat, hare, ferret, frog, toad.

Cud. Louse or flea ?
Dog. Any poor vermin.

Cud. It seems you devils have poor thin souls, that you can bestow yourselves in such small bodies.

But pray you, Tom, one question at parting ;“ (I think I shall never see you more ;) where do you borrow those bodies that are none of your own ?-the garment-shape you may hire at brokers.