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 circumscribed,
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 compass 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.
Saw. Work on his corn and cattle then.
Dog. I shall.
The Witch of Edmonton shall see his fall.
Ford's Plays, edit. 1839, p. 190.