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 broker’s.
Dog. Why would’st thou know that, fool? it avails thee not.
Cud. Only for my mind’s sake, Tom, and to tell some of my friends.
Dog. I’ll thus much tell thee: thou never art so distant
From an evil spirit, but that thy oaths,
Curses, and blasphemies pull him to thine elbow;
Thou never tell’st a lie, but that a devil
Is within hearing it; thy evil purposes
Are ever haunted; but when they come to act,—
As thy tongue slandering, bearing false witness,
Thy hand stabbing, stealing, cozening, cheating,—
He’s then within thee: thou play’st, he bets upon thy part;
Although thou lose, yet he will gain by thee.
Cud. Ay? then he comes in the shape of a rook?
Dog. The old cadaver of some self-strangled wretch
We sometimes borrow, and appear human;
The carcass of some disease-slain strumpet
We varnish fresh, and wear as her first beauty.
Did’st never hear? if not, it has been done;
An hot luxurious lecher in his twines,
When he has thought to clip his dalliance,
There has provided been for his embrace
A fine hot flaming devil in her place.
Cud. Yes, I am partly a witness to this; but I never could embrace her; I thank thee for that, Tom. Well, again I thank thee, Tom, for all this counsel; without a fee too! there’s few lawyers of thy mind now. Certainly, Tom, I begin to pity thee.
Dog. Pity me! for what?
Cud. Were it not possible for thee to become an honest dog yet?—’Tis a base life that you lead, Tom, to serve witches, to kill innocent children, to kill harmless cattle, to stroy[456] corn and fruit, etc.: ’twere better yet to be a butcher and kill for yourself.
Dog. Why, these are all my delights, my pleasures, fool.