M. B. Nay, then, I see you are awry, if you deny these

things, and say they be but illusions.... I did dwell in a
village within these five years where there was a man of good
wealth, and suddenly, within ten days' space, he had three
kine died, his gelding, worth ten pounds, fell lame, he was
himself taken with a great pain in his back, and a child of
seven years old died. He sent to the woman at R. H., and she
said he was plagued by a witch, adding, moreover, that there
were three women witches in that town, and one man witch,
willing him to look whom he most suspected. He suspected an
old woman, and caused her to be carried before a justice of
peace and examined. With much ado at the last she confessed
all, which was this in effect--that she had three spirits,
one like a cat, which she called _Lightfoot_; another like a
toad, which she called _Lunch_; the third like a weasel,
which she called _Makeshift_. This Lightfoot, she said, one
Mother Bailey, of W., sold her above sixteen years ago, for
an oven-cake, and told her the cat would do her good service;
if she would, she might send her of her errands. This cat was
with her but a while, but the weasel and the toad came and
offered their service. The cat would kill kine, the weasel
would kill horses, the toad would plague men in their bodies.
She sent them all three (as she confessed) against this man.
She was committed to the prison, and there she died before
the assizes.

Daniel then strikes into the conversation, enlarging on the Scriptural
description of devils as 'mighty and terrible spirits, full of rage
and power and cruelty'--principalities and powers, the rulers of the
darkness of this world--and forcibly insisting that if spirits so
awful and potential as these assumed the shapes of such paltry vermin
as cats, mice, toads, and weasels, it must be out of subtilty to cover
and hide the mighty tyranny and power which they exercise over the
hearts of the wicked. And he argues that such spirits would never
deign to be a witch's servant or to do her bidding. M. B. contends,
however, that, although he be lord, yet is he content to serve her
turn; and the witches confess, he says, that they call forth their
demons, and send them on what errands they please, and hire them to
hurt in their bodies and their cattle those against whom they cherish
angry and revengeful feelings. 'I am sorry,' says Daniel mildly, 'you
are so far awry; it is a pity any man should be in such error,
especially a man that hath learning, and should teach others
knowledge.'

After some further disputation, M. B. is brought to admit that God
giveth the devils power to plague and seduce because of man's
wickedness; but he asks whether a godly, faithful man or woman may not
be bewitched. We see, he says, that the devil had power given him of
old, as over Job. But Daniel will not admit that this is a case in
point, because it is not said that the devil dealt with Job through
the agency of witches. Thereupon Samuel, perceiving the drift of his
argument to be that the devil has no need to act by instruments so
mean and even degraded, and would assuredly never be at their command;
that, consequently, there can be no witchcraft, because there is no
necessity for it, suddenly interposes:

'With your leave, M. B., I would ask two or three questions
of my friend. There was but seven miles hence, at W. H., one
M.; the man was of good wealth, and well accounted of among
his neighbours. He pined away with sickness half a year, and
at last died. After he was dead, his wife suspected
ill-dealing. She went to a cunning man, who told her that her
husband died of witchery, and asked her if she did not
suspect any. Yes, there was one woman she did not like, one
Mother W.; her husband and she fell out, and he fell sick
within two days after, and never recovered. He showed her the
woman as plain in a glass as we see one another, and taught
her how she might bring her to confess. Well, she followed
his counsel, went home, caused her to be apprehended and
carried before a justice of peace. He examined her so wisely
that in the end she confessed she killed the man. She was
sent to prison, she was arraigned, condemned, and executed;
and upon the ladder she seemed very penitent, desiring all
the world to forgive her. She said she had a spirit in the
likeness of a yellow dun cat. This cat came unto her, as she
said, as she sat by the fire, when she was fallen out with a
neighbour of hers, and wished that the vengeance of God might
light upon him and his. The cat bade her not be afraid; she
would do her no harm. She had served a dame five years in
Kent that was now dead, and, if she would, she would be her
servant. "And whereas," said the cat, "such a man hath
misused thee, if thou wilt I will plague him in his cattle."
She sent the cat; she killed three hogs and one cow. The man,
suspecting, _burnt a pig alive_, and, as she said, her cat
would never go thither any more. Afterward she fell out with
that M. She sent her cat, who told her that she had given him
that which he should never recover; and, indeed, the man
died. Now, do you not think the woman spoke the truth in all
this? Would the woman accuse herself falsely at her death?
Did not the cat become her servant? Did not she send her? Did
she not plague and kill both man and beast? What should a man
think of this?

DANIEL. You propound a particular example, and let us examine
everything in it touching the witch. You say the cat came to
her when she was in a great rage with one of her neighbours,
and did curse, wishing the vengeance of God to fall upon him
and his.

SAM. She said so, indeed. I heard her with my own ears, for I
was at the execution.

DAN. Then tell me who set her in such a devilish rage, so to
curse and ban, as to wish that the vengeance of God might
light upon him and his? Did not the cat?

SAM. Truly I think that the devil wrought that in her.

DAN. Very well. Then, you see, the cat is the beginning of
this play.

SAM. Call you it a play? It was no play to some.

DAN. Indeed, the witch at last had better have wrought hard
than been at her play. But I mean Satan did play the juggler;
for doth he not offer his service? Doth he not move her to
send him to plague the man? Tell me, is she so forward to
send, as he is to be sent? Or do you not take it that he
ruleth in her heart, and even wholly directeth it to this
matter?

SAM. I am fully persuaded he ruleth her heart.

DAN. _Then was she his drudge, and not he her servant._ He
needeth not to be hired and entreated; for if her heart were
to send him anywhere, unto such as he knoweth he cannot hurt,
nor seeth how to make any show that he hurteth them, he can
quickly turn her from that. Well, the cat goeth and killeth
the man, certain hogs, and a cow. How could she tell that the
cat did it?

SAM. How could she tell? Why, he told her, man, and she saw
and heard that he lost his cattle.

DAN. The cat would lie--would she not? for they say such cats
are liars.

SAM. I do not trust the cat's words, but because the thing
fell out so.

DAN. Because the hogs and the cow died, are you sure the cat
did kill them? Might they not die of some natural causes, as
you see both men and beasts are well, and die suddenly?

In this way the dialogue proceeds, with a good deal of ingenuity and
some degree of dramatic spirit; and though the reasoning is not
without its fallacies, yet it is sufficiently clear and forcible, on
the whole, as a protest on the side of liberality and tolerance.

The next branch of the subject taken up for consideration is 'the help
and remedy' that is sought for against witches 'at the hands of
cunning men;' Daniel contending that, if the cunning men can render
any assistance, it must be through the devil's instrumentality, and,
therefore, Christian men are not justified in availing themselves of
it. The alleged cures performed by witches, Daniel refers to the
influence of the imagination; and in this category he tells an amusing
story. 'There was a person in London,' he say, 'acquainted with the
magician Fento. Now, this Fento had a black dog, whom he called
Bomelius. This party afterwards had a conceit that Bomelius was a
devil, and that he felt him within him. He was in heaviness, and made
his moan to one of his acquaintances, who had a merry head, and told
him he had a friend could remove Bomelius. He bade him prepare a
breakfast, and he would bring him. Then this was the cure: he (the
friend) made him be stripped naked and stand by a good fire, and
though he were fat enough of himself, basted him all over with butter
against the fire, and made him wear a sleek-stone next his skin under
his belly, and the man had immediate relief, and gave him afterwards
great thanks.'

'The conceit, or imagination, does much,' continues Daniel, 'even when
there is no apparent disease. A man feareth he is bewitched; it
troubleth all the powers of his mind, and that distempereth his body,
making great alterations in it, and bringeth sundry griefs. Now, when
his mind is freed from such imaginations, his bodily griefs, which
flew from the same, are eased. And a multitude of Satan's is of the
same character.'

The conversation next turns upon the danger of shedding innocent
blood, which is inseparable from the execution of alleged witches;
while juries, says Daniel, must become guilty of shedding innocent
blood by condemning as guilty, and that upon their solemn oath, such
as be suspected upon vain surmises, and imaginations, and illusions,
rising from blindness and infidelity, and fear of Satan which is in
the ignorant sort.