have to Live:
The Vulgar People love to be deluded;
And things the most unlikely they most dote on;
A strange Disease in Cattle, Hogs or Pigs,
Or any Accident in Cheese or Butter;
Though't be but Natural, or a Sluts fault,
Must strait be Witchcraft! Oh, the Witch was here!
The Ears or Tail is burn'd, the Churn is burn'd;
And this to hurt the Witch, when all the while
They're likest Witches that believe such Cures;
Could I do all that People think I can,
I'de ne're take pains to find out stolen Goods,
Or hold intelligence with Thieves to bring e'm,
Meerly to get my Bread; no, I would make
The Universe pay Tribute to my power,
And all the Bug-bear Lords Inquisitors
More tremble at my Name then I do now
At theirs: Ah, _Jasper_, would I raise
Storms when I would, blast Corn, turn Rivers backward
Change shapes, mov'd where I pleas'd i'th' Air,
And that so fast, as thought it self would
Hardly overtake me:
What is't I could not do? if all were true
The Foolish People think, the Pope himself would
Quickly lose Respect,
And none be thought infallible but I.

_Jasp._ I'm sure I tremble for your want of power,
More then I should to see Hells dreadfull'st shape,
For I must flye the Town.

_Witch._ _Jasper_, not so; though I can raise no Devils,
Yet I Confederate with Rogues and Juglers,
Things that can shape themselves like Elves,
And Goblins--
And often do like Spirits haunt great Houses,
Most times to steal, but many times for mirth;
These I'le soon send for; arise, my _Pincula_.

_Enter a little Devil, and tumbles the Summerset._

_Jasp._ Heav'ns bless me! save me, good Aunt.

_Witch._ From what? You Fool, 'tis but a little Boy,
Which I instruct to carry on my Cheats:
Come, leave your Fooling, I have bus'ness for you;
Uncase your self, and quickly go and find
_Ranter_, and _Swash_, _Dive_, _Fob_, _Snap_, _Gilt_, and _Pick-lock_,
Those are my Archest Devils; as you go
Call upon _Dog'rell_ the Ballad-maker, and say
I want him strait, bid them be sure
To bring home half a dozen more with them,
For I shall need their help, let e'm not fail,
For money's to be got.

_Devil._ 'Tis that will make e'm come; I'le haste, forsooth.
[Exit.

_Jasp._ I'm glad it's gone, for surely it was a Devil,
What ever you pretend.

_Witch._ Thou'rt a Fool:
It was a Boy, I tell thee, and no Devil;
Nor am I a sorceress, though I could wish
To do thee good I was: But 'tis no matter,
Bring thou thy Lord, I'le practice well e