But if the former hag did not bewitch your husband to death, as I shrewdly suspect, it is certain that the latter mumbling old miscreant killed my elder brother, Richard, by her sorceries." "Mother Chattox did you a good turn then, Nicholas," observed Mistress Nutter, "in making you master of the fair estates of Downham." "So far, perhaps, she might," rejoined Nicholas, "but I do not like the manner of it, and would gladly see her burned; nay, I would fire the fagots myself." "You are superstitious as the rest, Nicholas," said Mistress Nutter.
"For my part I do not believe in the existence of witches." "Not believe in witches, with these two living proofs to the contrary!" cried Nicholas, in amazement.

"Why, Pendle Forest swarms with witches.
They burrow in the hill-side like rabbits in a warren.

They are the terror of the whole country.

No man's cattle, goods, nor even life, are safe from them; and the only reason why these two old hags, who hold sovereign sway over the others, have 'scaped justice so long, is because every one is afraid to go near them.

Their solitary habitations are more strongly guarded than fortresses.