WITCH

Gloucester, I know thee well, although disguised: Thou comest to crave our help, for thy revenge against Caradoc, who now hath vanquished The Bastard Codigune in single fight. Know Gloucester, that our skill Commands the Moon drop from her silver sphere, And all the stars to vail their golden heads, At the black horror that our Charms present. Atlas throws down the twinkling Arch of heaven, And leaves his burden at our dreadful spells. This pendant element of solid earth, Shakes with amazing Earthquakes, as if the frame Of this vast continent would leave her poles. Neptune swells high, and with impetuous rage Dashes the haughty Argosey with winds, Against the Crystal battlements of heaven. The troubled air appears in flakes of fire, That, till about the airs circumference, We make the upper Region Thick, full of fatal Comets, and the sky Is filde with fiery signs of armed men. Hell roars, when we are angry, and the Fiends, As school-boys, tremble at our Charming rod. Thus, when we are displeased, or malcontent, Both hell obeys, and every Element. Then Gloucester, hark: Here in this dismal Grove, By art I will create a furious beast, Moved by a subtle spirit, full of force And hellish fury, whose devouring jaws Shall havoc all the borderers of Wales, And in short space unpeople all his Towns. Now, if he be a man that seeks for fame, And grounds his Fortune's on the popular love, Or Kinglike do prefer a common good, Before a private lose; this famous task, Whose fearful rumour shall amaze the world, Will egg him on: where being once but come, He surely meets with his destruction. Son, to this purpose, straightway to thy book, Enter the Cave, and call a powerful spirit by thy skill, Command him instantly for to appear, And with thy Charms, bind him unto the shape Of a devouring Serpent, whilst without We do await his coming. Exit Magician. Now whirl the angry heavens about the Pole, And in their fuming choler dart forth fires, Like burning Aetna, being thus enraged At this imperious Necromantike art. Dis trembles at our Magical command, And all the flaming vaults of hells Abyss, Throw forth sulphureous flakes of scorching fire. The jangling hellhounds, with their hellish guises, Dance damned rounds, in their infernal rage. And to conclude, earth, water, air, and fire, And hell grow sick, to see men art aspire. A general envy makes them male content, To see deep art command each element. See, Gloucester, see, thinks he, this monstrous shape Will not abate the courage of his foe, And quell the haughty pride of Caradoc ? Go shroud thy horrid shape within this wood, And seize on all thou meetest. Come, Gloucester, in, And here awhile abide within this Cave. Thy eyes shall see what thy vexed soul did crave. Exeunt.