To them.] Tuck, John, Much, Scarlet.
Tuc. Hear you how
Poor Tom the Cook, is taken! All his joynts
Do crack, as if his Limbs were tied with points:
His whole frame slackens; and a kind of rack
Runs down along the Spondils of his Back;
A Gout, or Cramp, now seizeth on his Head,
Then falls into his Feet; his Knees are Lead;
And he can stir his either Hand, no more
Than a dead Stump, to his Office, as before.
Alk. He is bewitched. Cla. This is an Argument
Both of her malice, and her power, we see.
Alk. She must by some device restrained be,
or she'll go far in mischief. Rob. Advise how,
Sage Shep'herd, we shall put it strait in practice.
Alk. Send forth your Woodmen, then, into the walks,
Or let'em prick her footing hence; A Witch
Is sure a Creature of melancholy,
And will be found, or sitting in her fourm,
Or else, at relief, like a Hare. Cla. You speak,
Alken, as if you knew the sport of Witch-hunting,
Or starting of a Hag.
[Enter George to the Huntsmen; who by them-selves continue the Scene: the rest going off.
Rob. Go Sirs about it,
Take George here with you, he can help to find her;
Leave Tuck and Much behind to dress the Dinner,
I'the Cooks stead. Much. We'll care to get that done.
Rob. Come Marian, let's withdraw into the Bowre.