Illa.—She came to get the money for the witchcraft she had contrived in the village.
Ille.—Of what use had all this witchcraft been to him? My child, so far from being frightened, defied him more and more; and he doubted whether he should ever have his will of her.
Illa.—He should only have patience; when she was laid upon the rack she would soon learn to be fond.
Ille.—That might be, but till then she (Lizzie) should get no money.
Illa.—What! Must she then do his cattle a mischief?
Ille.—Yes, if she felt chilly, and wanted a burning faggot to warm her podex, she had better. Moreover, he thought that she had bewitched him, seeing that his desire for the parson's daughter was such as he had never felt before.
Illa (laughing).—He had said the same thing some thirty years ago, when he first came after her.
Ille.—Ugh! thou old baggage, don't remind me of such things, but see to it that you get three witnesses, as I told you before, or else methinks they will rack your old joints for you after all.
Illa.—She had the three witnesses ready, and would leave the rest to him. But that if she were racked she would reveal all she knew.
Ille.—She should hold her ugly tongue, and go to the devil.