Ford. A witch, a Queane, an olde couzening queane: Haue I not forbid her my house. She comes of errands do's she? We are simple men, wee doe not know what's brought to passe vnder the profession of Fortune-telling. She workes by Charmes, by Spels, by th' Figure, & such dawbry as this is, beyond our Element: wee know nothing. Come downe you Witch, you Hagge you, come downe I say
Mist.Ford. Nay, good sweet husband, good Gentlemen,
let him strike the old woman
Mist.Page. Come mother Prat, Come giue me your
hand
Ford. Ile Prat-her: Out of my doore, you Witch, you Ragge, you Baggage, you Poulcat, you Runnion, out, out: Ile coniure you, Ile fortune-tell you
Mist.Page. Are you not asham'd?
I thinke you haue kill'd the poore woman
Mist.Ford. Nay he will do it, 'tis a goodly credite
for you
Ford. Hang her witch
Eua. By yea, and no, I thinke the o'man is a witch indeede: I like not when a o'man has a great peard; I spie a great peard vnder his muffler
Ford. Will you follow Gentlemen, I beseech you follow: see but the issue of my iealousie: If I cry out thus vpon no traile, neuer trust me when I open againe
Page. Let's obey his humour a little further:
Come Gentlemen