M. Saw. It cannot, ugly cur; I’ll confess nothing;
And not confessing, who dare come and swear
I have bewitched them? I’ll not confess one mouthful.
Dog. Choose, and be hanged or burned.
M. 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 condemned.
M. Saw. Yes! when?
Dog. And ere the executioner catch thee full in’s claws, thou’lt confess all.
M. Saw. Out, dog!
Dog. Out, witch! thy trial is at hand:
Our prey being had, the devil does laughing stand. [Runs aside.
Enter Old Banks, Ratcliffe, and Countrymen.
O. Banks. She’s here: attach her.— Witch you must go with us. [They seize her.