Giles Corey, Yeoman Part 8

_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 ap.r.o.n 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 s.p.a.ce. 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d. 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 G.o.d 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 c.o.c.k 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 bra.s.ses 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, la.s.s; thy father is here.

_Hathorne._ Silence! Olive Corey, why do you so afflict these other maids?