Giles Corey, Yeoman Part 10

_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 pa.s.sed 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 la.s.s, 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._

Act IV.

_The living-room in_ Giles Corey's _house._ Nancy Fox _and the child_ Phoebe Morse _sit beside the hearth; each has her ap.r.o.n over her face, weeping._

_Phoebe_ (_sobbing_). I--want my Aunt--Corey and--my Uncle Corey.

Why don't they come? Oh, deary me!

[Phoebe _jumps up and runs to the window._

_Nancy._ See you anybody coming?