_The Meeting-house in Salem Village. Enter_ People of Salem Village
_and take seats. The_ Afflicted Girls, _among whom are_ Ann Hutchins
_and_ Mercy Lewis, _occupy the front seats._ Nancy Fox _and_
Phoebe. _Enter the magistrates_ John Hathorne _and_ Jonathan Corwin
_with_ Minister Parris, _escorted by the_ Marshal, Aids, _and four_
Constables. _They place themselves at a long table in front of the
pulpit._
_Hathorne_ (_rising_). We are now prepared to enter upon the
examination. We invoke the blessing of God upon our proceedings, and
call upon the Marshal to produce the bodies of the accused.
[_Exeunt_ Marshal _and_ Constables. Afflicted Girls _twist about and
groan. Great excitement among the people._
_Enter_ Marshal _and_ Constables _leading_ Martha _and_ Olive Corey
_in chains._ Giles _follows. The prisoners are placed facing the
assembly, with the_ Constables _holding their hands._ Giles _stands
near. The_ Afflicted Girls _make a great clamor._
_Ann._ Oh, they are tormenting! They will be the death of me! I
will not! I will not!
_Giles._ Hush your noise, will ye, Ann Hutchins!
_Parris._ Peace, Goodman Corey!
_Hathorne._ Martha Corey, you are now in the hands of authority.
Tell me now why you hurt these persons.
_Martha._ I do not. I pray your worships give me leave to go to
prayer.
_Hathorne._ We have not sent for you to go to prayer, but to
confess that you are a witch.
_Martha._ I am no witch. I am a gospel woman. There is no such
thing as a witch. Shall I confess that I am what doth not exist? It
were not only a lie, but a fool's lie.
_Mercy._ There is a black man whispering in her ears.
_Hathorne._ What saith the black man to you, goodwife?
_Martha._ I pray your worships to ask the maid. Perchance, since
she sees him, she can also hear what he saith better than I.
_Hathorne._ Why do you not tell how the devil comes in your shape
and hurts these maids?
_Martha._ How can I tell how? I was never acquaint with the ways of
the devil. I leave it to those wise maids who are so well acquaint
to tell how. Perchance he hath whispered it in their ears.
_Afflicted Girls._ Oh, there is a yellow bird! There is a yellow
bird perched on her head!
_Hathorne._ What say you to that, Goodwife Corey?
_Martha._ What can I say to such folly?
_Hathorne._ Constables, let go the hands of Martha Corey.
[_The_ Constables _let go her hands, and immediately there is a
great outcry from the_ Afflicted Girls.
_Afflicted Girls._ She pinches us! Hold her hands! Hold her hands
again! Oh! oh!
_Ann._ She is upon me again! She digs her fingers into my throat!
Hold her hands! Hold her hands! She will be the death of me!
_Giles._ Devil take ye, ye lying trollop! 'Tis a pity somebody had
not been the death of ye before this happened!
_Hathorne._ Constables, hold the hands of the accused.
[Constables _obey, and at once the afflicted are quiet._
_Hathorne._ Goodwife Corey, what do you say to this?
_Martha._ I see with whom we have to do. May the Lord have mercy
upon us!
_Hathorne._ What say you to the charges that your husband, Giles
Corey, hath many a time brought against you in the presence of
witnesses--that you hindered him when he would go to prayer, causing
the words to go from him strangely; that you were out after
nightfall, and did ride home on a broomstick; and that you scoffed
at these maids and their affliction, as if you were a witch
yourself?
_Giles._ I said not so! Martha, I said it not so!
_Hathorne._ What say you to your husband's charge that you did
afflict his ox and cat, causing his ox to fall in the yard, and the
cat to be strangely sick?
_Giles._ Devil take the ox and the cat! I said not that she did
afflict them.
_Hathorne._ Peace, Goodman Corey; you are now in court.
_Martha._ I say, if a gospel woman is to be hung as a witch for
every stumbling ox and sick cat, 'tis setting a high value upon oxen
and cats.
_Giles._ I would mine had all been knocked in the head, lass, and
me too!
_Hathorne._ Peace! Ann Hutchins, what saw you when Goodwife Corey
went home with you through the wood?
_Ann._ Hold fast her hands, I pray, or she will kill me. The trees
were so full of yellow birds that it sounded as if a mighty wind
passed over them, and the birds lit on Goody Corey's head. And black
beasts ran alongside through the bushes, which did break and
crackle, and they were at Goody Corey and me to go to the witch
dance on the hill. And they said to bring Olive Corey and Paul
Bayley. And Goody Corey told them how she and Olive would presently
come, but not Paul, for he never would sign the book, not even
though Olive trapped him by the arts they had taught her. And Goody
Corey showed me the book then, and besought me to sign, and go with
her to the dance. And when I would not, she and Olive also afflicted
me so grievously that I thought I could not live, and have done so
ever since.
_Hathorne._ What say you to this, Goodwife Corey?
_Martha._ I pray your worship believe not what she doth charge
against my daughter.
_Corwin._ Mercy Lewis, do you say that you have seen both of the
accused afflicting Ann Hutchins?
_Mercy._ Yes, your worship, many a time have I seen them pressing
her to sign the book, and afflicting when she would not.
_Corwin._ How looked the book?
_Mercy._ 'Twas black, your worship, with blood-red clasps.
_Corwin._ Read you the names in it?
_Mercy._ I strove to, your worship, but I got not through the C's;
there were too many of them.
_Hathorne._ Let the serving-woman, Nancy Fox, come hither.
[Nancy Fox _makes her way to the front._
_Hathorne._ Nancy, I have heard that your mistress afflicts you.
_Nancy._ That she doth.
_Hathorne._ In what manner?
_Nancy._ She sendeth me to bed at first candlelight as though I
were a babe; she maketh me to wear a woollen petticoat in
winter-time, though I was not brought up to't; and she will never
let me drink more than one mug of cider at a sitting, and I nigh
eighty, and needing on't to warm my bones.
_Corwin._ Hath she ever afflicted you? Your replies be not to the
point, woman.
_Nancy._ Your worship, she hath never had any respect for my
understanding, and that hath greatly afflicted me.
_Hathorne._ Hath she ever shown you a book to sign?
_Nancy._ Verily she hath; and when I would not, hath afflicted me
with sore pains in all my bones, so I cried out, on getting up, when
I had set awhile.
_Hathorne._ Hath your mistress a familiar?
_Nancy._ Hey?
_Hathorne._ Have you ever seen any strange thing with her?
_Nancy._ She hath a yellow bird which sits on her cap when she
churns.
_Hathorne._ What else have you seen with her?
_Nancy._ A thing like a cat, only it went on two legs. It clawed up
the chimbly, and the soot fell down, and Goody Corey set me to
sweeping on't up on the Lord's day.
_Giles._ Out upon ye, ye lying old jade!
_Hathorne._ Silence! Nancy, you may go to your place. Phoebe Morse,
come hither.
[Phoebe Morse _approaches with her apron over her face, sobbing. She
has her doll under her arm._
_Hathorne._ Cease weeping, child. Tell me how your aunt Corey
treats you. Hath she ever taught you otherwise than you have learned
in your catechism?
_Phoebe_ (_weeping_). I don't know. Oh, Aunt Corey, I didn't mean
to! I took the pins out of my doll, I did. Don't whip me for it.
_Hathorne._ What doll? What mean you, child?
_Phoebe._ I don't know. I didn't stick them in so very deep, Aunt
Corey! Don't let them hang me for it!
_Hathorne._ Did your aunt Corey teach you to stick pins into your
doll to torment folk?
_Phoebe_ (_sobbing convulsively_). I don't know! I don't know! Oh,
Aunt Corey, don't let them hang me! Olive, you won't let them! Oh!
oh!
_Corwin._ Methinks 'twere as well to make an end of this.
_Hathorne._ There seemeth to me important substance under this
froth of tears. (_To_ Phoebe.) Give me thy doll, child.
_Phoebe_ (_clutching the doll_). Oh, my doll! my doll! Oh, Aunt
Corey, don't let them have my doll!
_Martha._ Peace, dear child! Thou must not begrudge it. Their
worships be in sore distress just now to play with dolls.
_Parris._ Give his worship the doll, child. Hast thou not been
taught to respect them in authority?
[Phoebe _gives the doll to_ Hathorne, _whimpering._ Hathorne,
Corwin, _and_ Parris _put their heads together over it._
_Hathorne_ (_holding up the doll_). There be verily many pins in
this image. Goodwife Corey, what know you of this?
_Martha._ Your worship, such a weighty matter is beyond my poor
knowledge.
_Hathorne._ Know you whence the child got this image?
_Martha._ Yes, your worship. I myself made it out of a piece of an
old homespun blanket for the child to play with. I stuffed it with
lamb's wool, and sewed some green ravellings on its head for hair. I
made it a coat out of my copperas-colored petticoat, and colored its
lips and cheeks with pokeberries.
_Hathorne._ Did you teach the child to stick in these pins
wherewith to torment folk?
_Martha._ It availeth me naught to say no, your worship.
_Mercy_ (_screams_). Oh, a sharp pain shoot through me when I look
at the image! 'Tis through my arms! Oh!
_Hathorne_ (_examining the doll_). There is a pin in the arms.
_Ann._ I feel sharp pains, like pins, in my face; oh, 'tis
dreadful!
_Hathorne_ (_examining the doll_). There are pins in the face.
_Phoebe_ (_sobbing_). No, no! Those are the pins I stuck in for Aunt
Corey. Don't let them hang me, Aunt Corey.
_Parris._ That is sufficient. She has confessed.
_Hathorne._ Yes, methinks the child hath confessed whether she
would or no. Goodwife Corey, Phoebe hath now plainly said that she
did stick these pins in this image for you. What have you to say?
_Martha_ (_courtesying_). Your worship, the matter is beyond my poor
speech.
[Hathorne _tosses the doll on the table,_ Phoebe _watching
anxiously._
_Hathorne._ Go to your place, child.
_Phoebe._ I want my doll.
_Parris._ Go to thy place as his worship bids thee, and think on
the precepts in thy catechism. [Phoebe _returns sobbing._
_Afflicted Girls._ Oh, Goody Corey turns her eyes upon us! Bid her
turn her eyes away!
_Ann._ Oh, I see a black cat sitting on Goody Corey's shoulder, and
his eyes are like coals. Now, now, he looks at me when Goody Corey
does! Look away! look away! Oh, I am blind! I am blind! Sparks are
coming into my eyes from Goody Corey's. Make her turn her eyes away,
your worships; make her turn her eyes away!
_Hathorne._ Goody Corey, fix your eyes upon the floor, and look not
at these poor children whom you so afflict.
_Martha._ May the Lord open the eyes of the magistrates and
ministers, and give them sight to discover the guilty!
_Parris._ Why do you not confess that you are a witch?
_Martha_ (_with sudden fervor_). I am no witch. There is no such
thing as a witch. Oh, ye worshipful magistrates, ye ministers and
good people of Salem Village, I pray ye hear me speak for a moment's
space. Listen not to this testimony of distracted children, this
raving of a poor lovesick, jealous maid, who should be treated
softly, but not let to do this mischief. Ye, being in your fair wits
and well acquaint with your own knowledge, must know, as I know,
that there be no witches. Wherefore would God let Satan after such
wise into a company of His elect? Hath He not guard over His own
precinct? Can He not keep it from the power of the Adversary as well
as we from the savages? Why keep ye the scouts out in the fields if
the Lord God hath so forsaken us? Call in the scouts! If we believe
in witches, we believe not only great wickedness, but great folly of
the Lord God. Think ye in good faith that I verily stand here with a
black cat on my shoulder and a yellow bird on my head? Why do ye not
see them as well as these maids? I would that ye might if they be
there. Black cat, yellow bird, if ye be upon my shoulder and my
head, as these maids say, I command ye to appear to these
magistrates! Otherwise, if I have signed the book, as these maids
say, I swear unto ye that I will cross out my name, and will serve
none but the God Almighty. Most worshipful magistrates, see ye the
black cat? See ye any yellow bird? Why are ye not afflicted as well
as these maids, when I turn my eyes upon ye? I pray you to consider
that. I am no saint; I wot well that I have but poorly done the will
of the Lord who made me, but I am a gospel woman and keep to the
faith according to my poor measure. Can I be a gospel woman and a
witch too? I have never that I know of done aught of harm whether to
man or beast. I have spared not myself nor minded mine own
infirmities in tasks for them that belonged to me, nor for any
neighbor that had need. I say not this to set myself up, but to
prove to you that I can be no witch, and my daughter can be no
witch. Have I not watched nights without number with the sick? Have
I not washed and dressed new-born babes? Have I not helped to make
the dead ready for burial, and sat by them until the cock crew? Have
I ever held back when there was need of me? But I say not this to
set myself up. Have I not been in the meeting-house every Lord's
day? Have I ever stayed away from the sacrament? Have I not gone in
sober apparel, nor wasted my husband's substance? Have I not been
diligent in my household, and spun and wove great store of linen?
Are not my floors scoured, my brasses bright, and my cheese-room
well filled? Look at me! Can I be a witch?
_Ann._ A black man hath been whispering in her ear, telling her
what to say.
_Hathorne._ What say you to that, Goody?
_Martha._ I say if that be so, he told me not to his own advantage.
I see with whom I have to do. I pray you give me leave to go to
prayer.
_Hathorne._ You are not here to go to prayer. I much fear that your
many prayers have been to your master, the devil. Constables, bring
forward the body of the accused.
[Afflicted Girls _shriek._ Constables _lead_ Olive _forward._
Martha _is led to one side._
_Martha._ Be of good cheer, dear child.
_Giles._ Yes, be not afraid of them, lass; thy father is here.
_Hathorne._ Silence! Olive Corey, why do you so afflict these other
maids?
_Olive._ I do not, your worship.
_Ann._ She is looking at me. Oh, bid her look away, or she will
kill me!
_Olive._ Oh, Ann, I do not! What mean you, dear Ann?
_Hathorne._ I charge you, Olive Corey, keep your eyes upon the
floor.
_Giles._ Look where you please, lass, and thy old father will
uphold thee in it; and I only wish your blue eyes could shoot pins
into the lying hussies.
_Hathorne._ Goodman, an ye disturb the peace again, ye shall be
removed from court. Ann Hutchins, you have seen this maid hurt you?
_Ann._ Many a time she hath hurt me nigh to death.
_Olive._ Oh, Ann, I hurt thee?
_Ann._ There is a flock of yellow birds around her head.
[Olive _moves her head involuntarily, and looks up._
_Afflicted Girls._ See her look at them!
_Hathorne._ What say you to that, Olive?
_Olive._ I did not see them.
_Hathorne._ Ann Hutchins, did you see this maid walking in the wood
with a black man last week?
_Ann._ Yes, your worship.
_Hathorne._ How did he go?
_Ann._ In black clothes, and he had white hair.
_Hathorne._ How went the accused?
_Ann._ She went in her flowered petticoat, and the flowers stood
out, and smelt like real ones; her kerchief shone like a cobweb in
the grass in the morning, and gold sparks flew out of her hair.
Goody Corey fixed her up so with her devilish arts to trap Paul
Bayley.
_Hathorne._ What mean you?
_Ann._ To trap the black man, your worship. I knew not what I said,
I was in such torment.
_Hathorne._ Olive Corey, did your mother ever so change your
appearance by her arts?
_Olive._ My mother hath no arts, your worship.
_Ann._ Her cheeks were redder than was common, and her eyes shone
like stars.
_Hathorne._ Olive, did your mother so change your looks?
_Olive._ No, your worship; I do not know what Ann may mean. I fear
she be ill.
_Hathorne._ Mercy Lewis, did you see Olive Corey with the black
man?
_Mercy._ Yes, your worship; and she called out to me to go with
them to the dance, and I should have the black man for a partner;
and when I would not she afflicted me, pulling my hair and pinching
me.
_Hathorne._ How appeared she to you?
_Mercy._ She was dressed like a puppet, finer than I had ever seen
her.
_Hathorne._ Olive, what did you wear when you walked with the black
man?
_Olive._ Your worship, I walked with no black man.
_Ann._ There he is now, standing behind her, looking over her
shoulder.
_Hathorne._ What say you to that, Olive?
_Olive_ (_looking in terror over her shoulder_). I see no one. I
pray you, let my father stand near me.
_Parris._ Nay; the black man is enough for you.
_Giles_ (_forcing his way to his daughter_). Here I be, lass; and it
will go hard if the hussies can see the black man and old Giles in
one place. Where be the black man now, jades?
_Hathorne_ (_angrily_). Marshal!
_Corwin_ (_interposing_). Nay, good Master Hathorne, let Goodman
Corey keep his standing. The maid looks near swooning, and albeit
his manner be rude, yet his argument hath somewhat of force. In
truth, he and the black man cannot occupy one place. Mercy Lewis,
see you now this black man anywhere?
_Mercy._ Yes, your worship.
_Corwin._ Where?
_Mercy._ Whispering in your worship's ear.
_Parris._ May the Lord protect his magistrates from the wiles of
Satan, and maintain them in safety for the weal of his afflicted
people!
_Hathorne._ This be going too far. This be presumption! Who of you
now see the black man whispering to the worshipful esquire Jonathan
Corwin?
_Mercy._ He is gone now out of the meeting-house. 'Twas but for a
moment I saw him.
_Corwin._ Speak up, children. Did any other of ye see the black man
whispering to me?
_Afflicted Girls._ No! no! no!
_Corwin._ Mercy Lewis, you say of a truth you saw him?
_Mercy._ Your worship, it may have been Minister Parris's shadow
falling across the platform.
_Corwin._ This is but levity, and hath naught to do with the trial.
_Hathorne._ We will proceed with the examination. Widow Eunice
Hutchins, produce the cape.
[Widow Hutchins _comes forward, holding the cape by a corner._
_Hathorne._ Put it over your daughter's shoulders.
_Hutchins._ Oh, your worships, I pray you not! It will kill her!
_Ann._ Oh, do not! do not! It will kill me! Oh, mother, do not! Oh,
your worships! Oh, Minister Parris!
_Parris._ Why put the maid to this needless agony?
_Corwin._ Put the cape over her shoulders.
[Widow Hutchins _approaches_ Ann _hesitatingly, and throws the cape
over her shoulders._ Ann _sinks upon the floor, shrieking._
_Ann._ Take it off! Take it off! It burns! It burns! Take it off!
Have mercy! I shall die! I shall die!
_Hathorne._ Take off the cape; that is enough. Olive Corey, what
say you to this? This is the cape you gave Ann Hutchins.
_Olive._ Oh, mother! mother!
_Martha_ (_pushing forward_). Nay, I will speak again. Ye shall not
keep me from it; ye shall not send me out of the meeting-house!
(_The afflicted cry out._) Peace, or I will afflict ye in earnest!
I _will_ speak! If I be a witch, as ye say, then ye have some reason
to fear me, even ye most worshipful magistrates and ministers. It
might happen to ye even to fall upon the floor in torment, and it
would ill accord with your offices. Ye shall hear me. I speak no
more for myself--ye may go hang me--I speak for my child. Ye shall
not hang her, or judgment will come upon ye. Ye know there is no
guile in her; it were monstrous to call her a witch. It were less
blasphemy to call her an angel than a witch, and ye know it. Ye know
it, all ye maids she hath played with and done her little kindnesses
to, ye who would now go hang her. That cape--that cape, most
worshipful magistrates, did the dear child earn with her own little
hands, that she might give it to Ann, whom she loved so much.
Knowing, as she did, that Ann was poor, and able to have but little
bravery of apparel, it was often on her mind to give her somewhat of
her own, albeit that was but scanty; and she hath toiled overtimes
at her wheel all winter, and sold the yarn in Salem, and so gained a
penny at a time wherewithal to buy that cape for Ann. And now will
it hang her, the dear child?
Dear Ann, dost thou not remember how thou and my Olive have spent
days together, and slept together many a night, and lain awake till
dawn talking? Dost thou not remember how thou couldst go nowhere
without Olive, nor she without thee, and how no little junketing
were complete to the one were the other not there? Dost thou not
remember how Olive wept when thy father died? Mercy Lewis, dost thou
not remember how my Olive came over and helped thee in thy work that
time thou wert ailing, and how she lent thee her shoes to walk to
Salem?
Oh, dear children, oh, maids, who have been playmates and friends
with my dear child, ye will not do her this harm! Do ye not know
that she hath never harmed ye, and would die first? Think of the
time when this sickness, that is nigh to madness, shall have passed
over, and all is quiet again. Then will ye sit in the meeting-house
of a Lord's day, and look over at the place where my poor child was
wont to sit listening in her little Sabbath best, and ye will see
her no more, but will say to yourselves that ye have murdered her.
And then of a week-day ye will see her no more spinning at her wheel
in the doorway, nor tending the flowers in her garden. She will come
smiling in at your doors no more, nor walk the village street, and
ye will always see where she is not, and know that ye have murdered
her. Oh, poor children, ye are in truth young, and your minds, I
doubt not, sore bewildered! If I have spoken harshly to ye, I pray
ye heed it not, except as concerns me. I wot well that I am now done
with this world, and I feel already the wind that bloweth over
Gallows Hill in my face. But consider well ere ye do any harm to my
dear child, else verily the day will come when ye will be more to be
pitied than she. Oh, ye will not harm her! Ye will take back your
accusation! Oh, worshipful magistrates, oh, Minister Parris, I pray
you have mercy upon this child! I pray you mercy as you will need
mercy! [_Falls upon her knees._
_Hathorne._ Rise, woman; it is not now mercy, but justice that has
to be considered.
_Parris._ In straits like this there is no mercy in the divine
will. Shall mercy be shown Satan?
_Corwin._ Mercy Lewis, is it in truth Olive Corey who afflicts you?
_Mercy_ (_hesitating_). I am not so sure as I was.
_Other Afflicted Girls._ Nor I! nor I! nor I!
_Mercy._ Last time I was somewhat blinded and could not see her
face. Methinks she was something taller than Olive.
_Ann_ (_shrieks_). Oh, Olive is upon me! The sun shines on her face!
I see her, she is choking me! Oh! oh!
_Mercy_ (_to_ Ann). Hush! If she be put away you'll not get Paul
Bayley; I'll tell you that for a certainty, Ann Hutchins.
_Ann._ Oh! oh! she is killing me!
_Mercy._ I see her naught; 'tis a taller person who is afflicting
Ann. (_To_ Ann.) Leave your outcries or I will confess to the
magistrates. [Ann _becomes quiet._
_Corwin._ Ann Hutchins, saw you in truth Olive Corey afflicting
you?
_Ann_ (_sullenly_). It might have been Goody Corey.
_Corwin._ Mercy Lewis, saw you of a certainty Olive Corey walking
in the wood with a black man?
_Mercy._ It was the wane of the moon; I might have been mistaken.
It might have been Goody Corey; their carriage is somewhat the same.
_Corwin._ Give me the cape, Widow Hutchins. (Widow Hutchins _hands
him the cape; he puts it over his shoulders._) Verily I perceive no
great inconvenience from the cape, except it is an ill fit.
[_Takes it off and lays it on the table. The two magistrates and_
Minister Parris _whisper together._
_Hathorne._ Having now received the testimony of the afflicted and
the witnesses, and duly weighted the same according to our judgment,
being aided to a decision, as we believe, by the divine wisdom which
we have invoked, we declare the damsel Olive Corey free and quit of
the charges against her. And Martha Corey, the wife of Giles Corey,
of Salem Village, we commit unto the jail in Salem until--
_Giles._ Send Martha to Salem jail! Out upon ye! Why, ye be gone
clean mad, magistrates and ministers and all! Send Martha to jail!
Why, she must home with me this night and get supper! How think ye I
am going to live and keep my house? Load Martha down with chains in
jail! Martha a witch! Then, by the Lord, she keeps His company
overmuch for one of her trade, for she goes to prayer forty times a
day. Martha a witch! Think ye Goodwife Martha Corey gallops a
broomstick to the hill of a night, with her decent petticoats
flapping? Who says so? I would I had my musket, and he'd not say so
twice to Giles Corey. And let him say so twice as 'tis, and meet my
fist, an he dares. I be an old man, but I could hold my own in my
day, and there be some of me left yet. Who says so twice to old
Giles Corey? Martha a witch! Verily she could not stop praying long
enough to dance a jig through with the devil. Martha! Out upon ye,
ye lying devil's tool of a parson, that seasons murder with prayer!
Out upon ye, ye magistrates! your hands be redder than your fine
trappings! Martha a witch! Ye yourselves be witches, and serving
Satan, and he a-tickling in his sleeve at ye. Send Martha in chains
to Salem jail, ye will, will ye? (_Forces his way to_ Martha, _and
throws his arm around her._) Be not afraid, good lass, thy man will
save thee. Thou shalt not go to jail! I say thou shalt not! I'll cut
my way through a whole king's army ere thou shalt. I'll raise the
devil myself ere thou shalt, and set him tooth and claw on the whole
brood of them. I'll--(_One of the afflicted shrieks._ Giles _turns
upon them._) Why, devil take ye, ye lying hussies, ye have done
this! Ye should be whipped through the town at the tail of a cart,
every one of ye. Ye ill-favored little jades, puling because no man
will have ye, and putting each other up to this d-- mischief for
lack of something better. Out upon ye, ye little--
_Mercy_ (_jumping up and screaming in agony_). Oh, Giles Corey is
upon me! He is afflicting me grievously! Oh, I will not! Chain him!
chain him! chain him!
_Ann._ Oh, this is worse than the others! This is dreadful! He's
strangling me! I--Oh--your--worships! Oh--help!--help! [_Falls upon
the floor._
_Afflicted Girls._ Chain him! chain him!
_Hathorne._ Marshal, take Giles Corey into custody and chain him.
[Marshal _and_ Constables _advance. Tableau--Curtain falls._