In ‘The Witch’ we find the following:
‘Heccat. Is the hart of Wax
Stuck full of magique needles?
Stadlin. ’Tis done, Heccat.
Hec. And is the Farmer’s picture, and his wives,
Lay’d downe to th’ fire yet?
Stad. They are a roasting both too.
Hec. Good:
Then their marrowes are a melting subtelly,
And three monethes sicknes sucks up life in ’em.
They denide me often floure, barme and milke,
Goose-greaze and tar, when I nere hurt their churnings,
Their brew-locks, nor their batches, nor fore spoake
Any of their breedings. Now I’ll be meete with ’em.
Seaven of their yong piggs I have bewitch’d already,
Of the last litter; nine ducklyngs, thirteene goselings, and a hog,
Fell lame last Sonday after evensong too.
And mark how their sheepe prosper; or what soupe
Each milch-kine gives to th’ paile: I’le send these snakes
Shall milke ’em all before hand; the dew’d skirted dayrie wenches
Shall stroak dry duggs for this, and goe home cursing:
I’ll mar their sillabubs, and swathie feastings
Under cowes bellies with the parish-youthes.’
Some witches had the power of transforming themselves into divers animals, and Boguet gives a long list of witches who confessed to so doing, having become, for the nonce, wolves, pigs, asses, cats, horses, frogs or toads, and hares. Indeed, in France and Germany, the belief in loup-garou and währwolf has hardly yet died out. But not only could they change themselves into beasts, but others also, quite after the fashion of the enchantments in the ‘Arabian Nights.’ Reginald Scot tells a story (lib. v., cap. iii.) too good to be omitted:
‘It happened in the citie of Salamin in the kingdome of Cyprus (wherein is a good hauen) that a ship loaden with merchandize staied there for a short space. In the meane time many of the souldiers and mariners went to shoare, to prouide fresh victuals. Among which number, a certaine English man, being a sturdie young fellowe, went to a woman’s house, a little waie out of the citie, and not farre from the sea side, to see whether she had anie eggs to sell. Who, perceiuing him to be a lustie yoong fellowe, a stranger, and farre from his countrie, so as upon the losse of him there would be the lesse misse or inquirie, she considered with hirselfe how to destroie him; and willed him to staie there awhile, whilest she went to fetch a few eggs for him. But she tarried long, so as the yoong man called unto hir, desiring hir to make hast: for he told hir that the tide would be spent, and by that meanes his ship would be gone and leaue him behind. Howbeit, after some detracting of time, she brought him a few eggs, willing him to returne to hir, if his ship were gone when he came.
‘The yoong fellowe returned towards his ship; but before he, went aboord, hee would needs eat an egg or twaine to satisfie his hunger, and, within short space, he became dumb and out of his wits, (as he afterwards said.) When he would haue entred into the ship, the marriners beat him backe with a cudgell, saieing: What a murren lacks the asse? Whither the Diuell will this asse? The asse, or yoong man, (I cannot tell by which name I should terme him,) being many times repelled, and understanding their words that called him asse, considering that he could speake neuer a word, and yet could understand euerie bodie; he thought that he was bewitched by the woman, at whose house he was. And, therefore, when by no means he could get into the boate, but was driuen to tarrie and see hir departure; being also beaten from place to place, as an asse; he remembered the witches words, and the words of his owne fellowes that called him asse, and returned to the witches house, in whose seruice he remained by the space of three yeares, dooing nothing with his hands all that while, but carried such burthens as she laied on his backe; haueing onely this comfort, that, although he were reputed an asse among strangers and beasts, yet that both this witch, and all other witches knew him to be a man.
‘After three yeares were passed ouer, in a morning betimes he went to towne before his dame; who, upon some occasion, staied a little behind. In the meane time, being neere to a church, he heard a little saccaring bell ring to the eleuation of a morrowe masse, and, not daring to go into the churche, least he should have beene beaten and driuen out with cudgells, in great deuotion he fell downe in the churchyard, upon the knees of his hinder legs, and did lift his forefeet ouer his head, as the preest doth hold the sacrament at the eleuation. Which prodigious sight, when certeine merchants of Genua espied, and with woonder beheld; anon commeth the witch with a cudgell in hir hand, beating foorth the asse. And bicause (as it hath beene said) such kinds of witchcrafts are verie usuall in those parts; the merchants aforesaid made such meanes, as both the asse and the witch were attached by the iudge. And she, being examined and set upon the racke, confessed the whole matter, and promised that, if she might have libertie to go home, she would restore him to his old shape: and, being dismissed, she did, accordinglie. So, as notwithstanding, they apprehended hir againe, and burned hir: and the yoong man returned into his countrie with a ioifull and merrie hart.’
Credulous as James I. was, yet he could not swallow lycanthropy:
‘But to tell you simply my opinion in this, if any such thing hath beene, I take it to haue proceeded but of a naturall super-aboundance of Melancholie, which, as we reade, that it hath made some thinke themselues Pitchers, and some, horses, and some, one kinde of beast or other. So suppose I, that it hath so viciat the imagination and memory of some, as per lucida interualla, it hath so highly occupied them, that they haue thought themselues very Woolfes indeed, at these times: and so haue counterfeited their actiones in going on their hands and feete, preassing to deuoure women and barnes,34 fighting and snatching with all the towne dogges, and in using such like other bruitish actiones, and so to become beastes by a strong apprehension as Nabucad-netzar was seuen yeares.’
But popular opinion still inclined to the belief in the ability of witches to change their form: and we will take only one instance, which occurs in the play of ‘The Late Lancashire Witches,’ by Heywood and Broome (London, 1634):
‘Meg. Then list yee well, the hunters are
This day, by vow, to kill a hare,
Or else the sport they will forsweare;
And hang their dogs up.
Mawd. Stay, but where
Must the long threatened hare be found?
Gil. They’l search in yonder meadow ground.
Meg. There will I be, and like a wily wat,
Untill they put me up, ile squat.’
And