1828.] The Witch. 381 



selves. From the brilliant hall of banquet, in which the drama com- 

 menced, the scene now changes at once to the dim horrors of the witch's 

 habitation. The first portion of this extraordinary scene, which is occupied 

 by the conferences and operations of the witches among themselves, 

 includes too much of what is simply disgusting to permit of our extract- 

 ing it entire. It also includes, however, one or two touches of poetic 

 beauty that well deserve to be rescued from such a neighbourhood. 

 Hecate, the principal witch, is giving directions to the rest about the due 

 performance of their horrible incantations, and she inquires, 



" Are the flames blue enough ?" 

 The hag who is tending them answers, 



" The nips of fairies upon maids' white hips 

 Are not more perfect azure." 



Shakspeare himself never produced any thing more exquisite than this ; 

 and the intrinsic beauty of the illustration is, if possible, heightened by 

 the singular manner in which it contrasts with, and as it were counteracts 

 the otherwise unmingled deformity of the scene and characters before us. 

 Its effects are like those of a slender ray of moonlight, penetrating into 

 the confines of a dungeon filled with rottenness and death, and bringing 

 with it from without images and associations made up of gentleness and 

 beauty. There is another short passage in this part of the scene, which, 

 if not so exquisitely beautiful, produces somewhat similar effects upon the 

 reader, in virtue of the host of pastoral images and associations it calls 

 up. Hecate is luxuriating in the mischief she intends to do to some one 

 who has offended her, and includes, among other ill turns, the sending 

 some of her familiars, in the form of snakes, to milk his kine; and 

 she adds, 



" The dew'd skirted dairy wenches 



Shall shake dry dugs for this, and go home cursing." 



This is Shaksperian. The middle portion of this scene in the witch's 

 cave we shall extract entire, on account of the great merit of all Sebas- 

 tian's part of it, and because it fixes his hitherto vague and floating pur- 

 poses, and thus far shews the progress of the plot. 



Enter SEBASTIAN. 



Seb. Heav'n knows with what unwillingness and hate 

 I enter this damn'd place ; but such extremes 

 Of wrongs in love fight 'gainst religious knowledge, 

 That, were I led by this disease to deaths 

 As numberless as creatures that must die, 

 I could not shim the way. I know what 'tis 

 To pity madmen now ; they're wretched things 

 That ever were created, if they be 

 Of woman's making, and her faithless vows. 

 I fear they're now a-kissing. What's o'clock ? 

 'Tis now but supper-time j but night will come, 

 And all new-married couples make short suppers. 

 He now addresses the Witch.^ 



Whate'er thou art, I have no time to fear thee. 

 My horrors are so great and strong already, 

 That thou seem'st nothing. Up, and laze not ! 



