And like a bow, buckled and bent together,
By some more strong in mischiefs than myself:
Must I for that be made a common sink
For all the filth and rubbish of men's tongues,
To fall and run into? some call me witch;
And, being ignorant of myself, they go
About to teach me how to be one; urging
That my bad tongue (by their bad usage made so)
Forespeaks their cattle, doth bewitch their corn,
Themselves, their servants, and their babes at nurse;
This they enforce upon me; and in part
Make me to credit it. _Witch of Edmonton._

The belief in witchcraft may be considered as forming a prominent and
important feature in the history of the human mind. It is certainly one
link of the degrading chain of superstitions which have long enslaved
mankind, but which are now quivering to their fall. The desire for power
to pry into hidden things, and more especially events to come, is
inherent in the human race, and has always been considered as of no
ordinary importance, and rendered the supposed possessors objects of
reverence and fear. The belief in astrology, or the power to read in the
stars the knowledge of futurity, from time immemorial has been
considered as the most difficult of attainment, and important in its
results. And by the aid of a little supernatural machinery, both
magicians and astrologers exercised the most unlimited influence over
the understandings of their adherents. An astrologer, only two or three
centuries since, was a regular appendage to the establishments of
princes and nobles. Sir Walter Scott has drawn an interesting portrait
of one in _Kenilworth_; and the eagerness with which the Earl of
Leicester listened to his doctrines and predictions, affords a good