Online Texts for Craig White's Literature Courses
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Not a critical or scholarly text but a reading text for a seminar
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Changes may include paragraph divisions, highlights, spelling updates, bracketed annotations, & elisions (marked by ellipses . . . )
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The Crucible (1953) by Arthur Miller (1915-2005) |
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Characters (some are only mentioned)
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Reverend Samuel Parris Betty Parris, his daughter (10) Abigail (Abby) Williams (17) Susanna Wallcott (a little younger) Dr. Griggs Reverend John Hale Mrs. Ann Putnam Mr. Tom Putnam Ruth Putnam, their daughter Mercy Lewis (18), the Putnams’ servant Mary Warren (17) John Proctor Elizabeth Proctor Giles Corey Martha Corey |
Thomas Danforth, deputy governor & head of court John Hathorne Francis Nurse Rebecca Nurse Sarah Good Goody Osburn Tituba, a slave from Bridget Bishop George Jacobs Goody Howe Martha Bellows Goody Sibber Ezekiel Cheever Willard, a Marshal or jail-keeper |
Stage Directions:
R, L = right, left
U, D = upstage (toward back), downstage (toward front)
"Cross" or "Crossing" = diagonal cross-stage motion
Terms:
Goody = Goodwife = Mrs.
Crucible = a vessel, usually of earthenware, made to endure great heat, used for fusing metals, etc.; a melting-pot.
figuratively, a severe test or trial.
The Crucible
ACT I: Scene 1
SETTING: A
bedroom in
Reverend Samuel Parris’s house,
Abigail Williams, 17, ENTERS.
ABIGAIL: Uncle? Susanna Wallcott’s
here from Dr. Griggs.
PARRIS: Oh? The Doctor. (Rising.)
Let her come, let her come.
ABIGAIL: Come in Susanna.
(Susanna
Walcott, a little younger than Abigail, enters.)
PARRIS: What does the doctor say,
child?
SUSANNA:
Dr. Griggs he bid me come and tell
you, Reverend sir, that he cannot discover no medicine for it in his books.
PARRIS: Then he must search on.
SUSANNA: Aye, sir, he have been
searchin’ his books since he left you, sir, but he bid me tell you, that you
might look to unnatural things for
the cause of it.
PARRIS: No—no. There be no unnatural
causes here. Tell him I have sent for Reverend Hale of
SUSANNA: Aye, sir. He bid me tell
you.
PARRIS: Go directly home and speak
nothin’ of unnatural causes.
SUSANNA: Aye, sir, I pray for her.
(Goes out.)
ABIGAIL:
Uncle, the
rumor of witchcraft is all about; I
think you’d best go down and deny it yourself. The parlor’s packed with people,
sir. —I’ll sit with her.
PARRIS: And what shall I say to
them? That my daughter and my niece I discovered
dancing like heathen in the forest?!
ABIGAIL: Uncle, we did dance; let you tell them I confessed it. But they’re speakin’ of witchcraft; Betty’s not witched.
PARRIS: Abigail, I cannot go before
the congregation when I know you have not been open with me. What did you do
with her in the forest?
ABIGAIL: We did
dance, Uncle, and when you leaped out of the bush so suddenly, Betty was
frightened and then she fainted. And there’s the whole of it.
PARRIS: Child. Sit you down. Now
look you, child—if you trafficked with
spirits in the forest, I must know it, for surely my enemies will, and
they’ll ruin me with it . . .
Abigail, do you understand that I have many enemies?
ABIGAIL: I know it, Uncle.
PARRIS: There is
a faction that is sworn to drive me from
my pulpit. Do you understand that?
ABIGAIL: I think so, sir.
PARRIS: Now then—in the midst of
such disruption, my own household is
discovered to be the very center of some
obscene practice. Abominations are done in
the forest . . .
ABIGAIL: It were only sport, Uncle!
PARRIS: I saw
Tituba waving her arms over the fire
when I came on you; why were she doing that? And I heard a screeching and
gibberish comin’ from her mouth . .
.
ABIGAIL: She always sings
her
PARRIS: I cannot blink
[ignore]
what I saw, Abigail—for my enemies will not blink it. And I
thought I saw a . . . .someone naked
running through the trees!
ABIGAIL: No one was naked! You
mistake yourself, Uncle!
PARRIS: I saw it! Now tell me true,
Abigail. Now my ministry’s at stake; my ministry and perhaps your cousin’s life
. . . ..whatever abomination you have done, give me all of it now, for I dare
not be taken unaware when I go before them down there.
ABIGAIL: There is nothin’ more. I
swear it, Uncle.
PARRIS: Abigail, is there any other
cause than you have told me, for Goody
Proctor dischargin’ you? It has troubled me that you are now seven months
out of their house, and in all this time
no other family has called for your service.
ABIGAIL: They want slaves, not such
as I. Let them send to
Barbados
Barbados, home of Tituba the slave, is a Caribbean island. The Caribbean was source for many early New England slaves. (After King Philip's War, Philip's wife and children were sold into slavery in the Caribbean.)
(Enter
Mrs. Ann Putnam. She is a twisted
soul of forty—five, a death—ridden woman,
haunted by dreams.)
PARRIS: Why, Goody Putnam, come in.
ANN: It is a marvel. It is surely a
stroke of hell upon you . . .
PARRIS: No, Goody Putnam, it is . .
.
ANN: How high did she fly, how high?
PARRIS: No—no,
she never flew . . .
ANN: Why, it’s sure she did; Mister
Collins saw her goin’ over Ingersoll’s barn, and come down light as bird, he
says!
PARRIS: Now, look you, Goody Putnam;
she never . . . (Enter Thomas Putnam, a well—to—do, hard—handed landowner near
fifty.) Oh, good morning, Mister Putnam . . .
PUTNAM: It is a providence the thing
is out now! It is a providence.
[ = a blessing]
PARRIS: What’s out, sir, what’s . .
. ?
PUTNAM: (Looking down at Betty.)
Why, her eyes is closed! Look you, Ann.
ANN: Why, that’s strange. Ours is
open.
PARRIS:
Your little Ruth is sick?
ANN: I’d not call it sick, the
Devil’s touch is heavier than sick, it’s death, y’know, it’s death drivin’ into
them forked and hoofed.
PARRIS: Oh, pray not! Why, how does
your child ail?
ANN: She ails as she must—she never
waked this morning but her eyes open and she walks, and hears naught, sees
naught, and cannot eat. Her soul is
taken, surely.
PUTNAM: They say you’ve sent for
Reverend Hale of
PARRIS: A precaution only. He has
much experience in all demonic arts, and I
. .
.
ANN: He has indeed, and found by a
witch in
PARRIS: I pray you, leap not to
witchcraft. I know that you, you least of all, Thomas, would ever wish so
disastrous a charge laid upon me. We cannot leap to witchcraft. They will howl
me out of
PUTNAM: Now, look you, Mr. Parris; I
have taken your part in all contention here, and I would continue; but cannot if
you hold back in this. There are
hurtful, vengeful spirits layin’ hands on these children.
PARRIS: But, Thomas, you cannot . .
.
PUTNAM: Ann! Tell Mister Parris what
you have done.
ANN: Reverend Parris, I have
laid seven babies unbaptized in the
earth. Believe me, Sir, you never saw more hearty babies born. And yet, each
would wither in my arms the very night of their birth. And now, this year,
my Ruth, my
only—I see her turning strange.
A
secret child she has become this year, and
shrivels like a sucking mouth were pullin’ on her life, too. And so I thought to
send her to your Tituba—
PARRIS: To Tituba! What may Tituba .
. . .?
ANN: Tituba knows how to speak to the
dead, Mister Parris.
PARRIS: Goody Ann, it is a
formidable sin to conjure up the
dead!
ANN: I take it on my soul, but who
else may surely tell us who murdered my babies.
PARRIS: Woman!
ANN: They were murdered, Mister
Parris! And mark this proof!–-mark it! Last night my Ruth were ever so close to
their little spirits, I know it, sir. For how else is she stuck dumb now except
some power of darkness would stop her
mouth! It is a marvelous sign, Mister Parris!
PUTNAM: Don’t you understand it,
sir? There is a murdering witch among us bound to keep herself in
the dark. Let your enemies make of
it what they will, you cannot blink it more.
PARRIS: Then you were
conjuring spirits
last night.
ABIGAIL: Not I, sir,
PARRIS: Now I am undone.
PUTNAM: You are not undone. Let you
take hold here. Wait for no one to charge you—declare
it yourself. You have discovered witchcraft . . . .
PARRIS:
In my house!? In my house,
Thomas?—they will topple me with this! They will make of it a . . .
MERCY: Your pardons . . . I only
thought to see how Betty is. [Mercy Lewis, 18-year-old servant to the Putnams]
PUTNAM: Why aren’t you home? Who’s
with Ruth?
MERCY: Her grandma come. She’s
improved a little, I think—she give a powerful sneeze before.
ANN: Ah, there’s a sign of life!
PARRIS: Will you leave me now,
Thomas, I would pray a while alone . . .
ABIGAIL: Uncle, you’ve prayed since
midnight. Why do you not go down and . . . .?
PARRIS: No—no. I’ll wait till Mister
Hale arrives.
PUTNAM: Now look you, sir—let you
strike out against the Devil and the village will bless you for it! Come down,
speak to them—pray with them—they’re thirsting for your word, Mister! Surely
you’ll pray with them.
PARRIS: I have no stomach for
disputation this morning. I will lead them in a psalm. I have had enough
contention since I came, I want no more. (Putnam crosses left to above table,
gets hat, crosses and exits.)
[“cross” = diagonal
movement across stage]
ANN: Mercy, you go home to Ruth,
d’ye hear?
MERCY: Aye, Mum. (Ann goes out.)
PARRIS: If she starts for the
window, cry for me at once. (Crossing to door.)
ABIGAIL: Yes, Uncle. (He goes out
with Putnam.) How is Ruth sick?
MERCY: It’s weirdish, I know not—she
seems to walk like a dead one since last night.
ABIGAIL: Now look you, if they be
questioning us tell them we danced—I told him as much already.
MERCY: And what more?
ABIGAIL: He saw you naked.
MERCY: Oh, Jesus! (Falls back on
bed. Enter Mary Warren, breathless.
She is seventeen, a subservient, naïve girl.)
MARY: I just come from the farm,
the whole country’s talking witchcraft!
They’ll be callin’ us witches, Abby! Abby, we’ve got to tell.
Witchery’s a hangin’ error, a
hangin’ like they done in
ABIGAIL: (Betty whimpers.) Betty?
Now, Betty, dear, wake up now. It’s Abigail. (She sits Betty up, furiously
shakes her.) I’ll beat you, Betty! (Betty whimpers.) My, you seem improving. I
talked to your papa and I told him everything. So there’s nothing to . . .
BETTY: (Betty suddenly springs off
bed, rushes across room to window where Abigail catches her.) You drank blood,
Abby, you
drank blood!
ABIGAIL: (Dragging Betty back to bed
and forcing her into it.) Betty, you never say that again! You will never . . .
BETTY: You did, you did! You drank a
charm to kill John Proctor’s wife! You drank a charm to kill Goody Proctor!
ABIGAIL: (Slaps her face.) Shut it!
Now shut it! (Betty dissolves into sobs.) Now look you. All of you. We danced.
And Tituba conjured Ruth Putnam’s dead
sisters. And that is all. And mark this—let either of you breathe a word, or
the edge of a word about the other
things, and I will come to you in
the black of some terrible night and I will bring a pointy reckoning that
will shudder you. And you know I can do it. I can make you
wish you had never seen the sun go down!
(Betty cries louder. She goes to Betty, sits left side of bed down stage of
Mercy, and roughly sits her up.) Now you . . .
sit
up and stop this! (Betty collapses in her hands.)
(Enter John Proctor.)
PROCTOR: Be you foolish,
Mary Warren? Be you deaf? I forbid you leave the house, did I not? Now get you
home; (Mary crosses up and out.) my wife is waitin’ with your work!
MERCY: (Rising, crossing to
entrance. Titillated. Being aware of their relationship.) I’d best be off. I
have my Ruth to watch . . .
Good
morning, Mister Proctor. (Mercy sidles out. Since Proctor’s entrance, Abigail
has stood absorbing his presence, wide-eyed.)
ABIGAIL: She’s only gone silly,
somehow. She’ll come out of it.
PROCTOR: So she flies, eh? Where are
her wings?
ABIGIAL: (With a nervous laugh.) Oh,
John, sure you’re not believin’ she flies!
PROCTOR: The road past my house is
a pilgrimage
to
ABIGAIL: Oh, posh!—We were dancin’
in the woods last night, and my uncle leaped in on us. She took fright, is all.
PROCTOR: (His
smile widens. Crossing to door.)
Dancin’ by moonlight! (Abigail springs
into his path.) You’ll be clapped in the stocks before you’re twenty.
ABIGAIL: (Barring his way at door.)
Give me a
word, John. A soft word.
PROCTOR: I come to see what mischief
your uncle’s brewin’ now. Put it out of mind, Abby.
ABIGAIL: John—I am waitin’ for you
every night.
PROCTOR: Abby, you’ll
put it out of mind. I’ll not be comin’
for you more. You know me better.
ABIGAIL: I know how you clutched my
back behind your house and sweated like a stallion whenever I come near! I saw
your face when she put me out and
you loved me then
and you do now!
PROCTOR: (Taking her hands.) Child .
. .
ABIGAIL: (With a flash of anger.
Throwing his hands off.) How do you
call me child!
PROCTOR: (As 3 or 4 persons
off-stage begin a quiet chant—a psalm or
hymn.) Abby, I may think of you softly from time to time. But I will cut off
my hand before I’ll ever reach for you again. Wipe it out of mind—(Takes her
arms.) we never touched, Abby.
ABIGAIL: (With
a bitter anger) Oh, I marvel how such a (Beating
her fists against his chest) strong man may let such a
sickly wife be . . .
PROCTOR: (Coldly.
Grabbing her wrists) You’ll
speak nothin’ of
ABIGAIL: She is
blackening my name in the village!
She is telling lies about me! She is a
cold sniveling woman and you bend to her! Let her turn you like a . . . ?
PROCTOR: (Shakes her.) Do you look
for whippin’!
ABIGAIL: (Shakes free.) You loved
me, John Proctor, and whatever sin it is
you love me yet! (He turns abruptly to go out. She rushes to door, blocks
it.) John, pity me, pity me! (The words
“Jehovah” [Yahweh, a
Hebrew name for God] are heard in the psalm—the song
outside—Betty claps her ear suddenly, and whines loudly. Parris ENTERS.) Betty?
PARRIS: What happened? What are you
doing to her! Betty! (Rushes to bed, crying “Betty, Betty!”)
ABIGAIL: She heard you singin’ and
suddenly she’s up to screamin’ . . .
ANN: (Entering) The psalm! The
psalm!—she cannot hear the Lord’s name!
PARRIS: No, God forbid . . .
ANN:
Mark it for a sign, mark it . . . !
(Rebecca Nurse enters.)
PUTNAM: That is a notorious sign of
witchcraft afoot, a prodigious sign.
ANN: My mother told me that! That
they cannot bear to hear the name of . . .
PARRIS: Rebecca, Rebecca, come to
her . . . we’re lost, she suddenly cannot bear to hear the Lord’s name.
ANN: What have you done?
REBECCA: Pray, calm yourselves. I
have eleven children and I am
twenty-six times a grandma, and I have
seen them all through their silly seasons, and when it come on them they
will run the
Devil bowlegged keeping up with their mischief. I think she’ll wake when she
tires of it.
ANN: This is
no silly season, Rebecca. My Ruth is
bewildered, Rebecca,
she cannot eat.
REBECCA: Perhaps she is
not hungered yet. Mr. Parris,
I hope you are not decided to go in
search of loose sprits. I’ve heard the promise of that outside . . .
PARRIS:
A wide opinion’s running in the parish
that the Devil may be among us, and I would satisfy them that they are
wrong.
PROCTOR: Then let you come out and
call them wrong. Are you our minister or Mister Hale? Did you consult the
wardens of the church before you called the minister to look for devils?
PARRIS: He is not coming to look for
devils!
PROCTER: Then what is he coming to
look for?
PUTNAM: There will be
children dyin’ in the village,
Mister . . . !
PROCTOR:
I see nothing dyin’
REBECCA: Pray, John . . . be calm.
Mister Parris, I think you’d
best be sending Reverend Hale back as soon as he come. I
think we ought rely on Doctor Griggs now, and good prayer . . .
ANN: Rebecca, the docter’s baffled.
REBECCA: If so he is, then let us
go to God for the cause of it. There
is prodigious danger in the seeking of loose spirits, I fear it, I fear it.
Let us rather blame ourselves and .
. .
PUTNAM:
How may we blame ourselves? I am one
of nine sons; the Putnam seed have
peopled this province. And yet I have but one child left of eight—and now
she shrivels!
REBECCA:
I cannot fathom that!
[fathom = make sense of]
PUTNAM: When Reverend Hale comes you
will proceed to look for signs of
witchcraft here.
PROCTOR: You cannot command Mister
Parris. We
vote by name in this society, not by acreage.
PUTNAM: I never heard you worried so
on this society, Mister Proctor.
I do not think I saw you at Sabbath meeting since snow
flew.
PROCTOR: I have trouble enough
without I come five mile to hear him
preach only hellfire and bloody damnation. There are many others who stay
away from church these days because he
hardly ever mentions God any more.
PARRIS: I am
your third preacher in seven years.
I do not wish to be put out like the cat, whenever some majority feels the whim.
You people seem not to comprehend that a minister is the Lord’s man in the
parish; a minister is not to be so lightly crossed and contradicted . . .
PUTNAM: Aye!
PARRIS: There is
either obedience or the church will burn
like hell is burning!
PROCTOR: Can you speak one minute
without we land in hell again? I am sick of hell!
PARRIS: It is
not for you to say what is good for
you to hear!
PROTCTOR: I may speak my heart, I
think!
PARRIS: What, are we
Quakers? We are not Quakers here
yet, Mister Proctor. And you may tell that to your followers!
[The Puritans opposed the freer
religious expression of the Quakers or Religious Society of Friends]
PROCTOR: My followers!
PARRIS: There is a party in this
church; I am not blind; there is a
faction and a party.
PROCTOR: Against you?
PUTNAM: Against him and all authority.
PROCTOR: Why, then I must find it
and join it.
REBECCA: He does not mean that . . .
.
PROCTOR: I mean it solemnly,
Rebecca; I like not the smell of this
“authority,” I have a crop to sow,
and lumber to drag home. What say you, Guiles? Let’s find that party. He
says there is a party. [ =
“faction”; see Parris above]
COREY: I’ve changed my opinion of
this man. Mister Parris, I beg your pardon. I never thought you had so much iron
in you.
PARRIS: Why thank you, Giles.
COREY: It suggests to the mind what
the trouble be among us all, these years. Think on it,
wherefore is everybody suing everybody
else. I have been in court six times
this year.
PROCTOR: Is it the devil’s fault
that a man cannot say you “Good Morning” without you clap him for defamation?
You’re old, Giles, and you’re not hearing as well as you did.
COREY: John Proctor, I have only
last month collected four pound damages for you publicly saying I burned the
roof off your house, and I—
PROCTOR: I never said no such thing,
but I paid you for it, so I hope I can call you deaf without charge. Come along,
Giles, and help me drag my lumber home.
COREY: I’ll be damned first! (Hale
ENTERS with books of religion in hand.)
HALE: Pray you, someone take these!
PARRIS: Mister Hale! Oh, it’s good
to see you again! My, they’re heavy!
HALE: They must be, they are
weighted with authority.
PARRIS: Well, you do come prepared!
HALE: We shall need hard study, if
it comes to tracking down the Old Boy
[the devil].
You cannot be Rebecca Nurse?
REBECCA: I am, sir. Do you know me?
HALE: It’s strange how I knew you,
but I suppose you look as such a good soul should. We have all heard of
your great charities in
PARRIS: Do you know this
gentleman?—Mister Thomas Putnam. And his good wife, Ann.
HALE: Putnam! I had not expected
such distinguished company, sir.
PUTNAM: It does not seem to help us
today, Mister Hale. We look to you to come to our house and save our child.
HALE: Your child ails, too?!
ANN: Her soul, her soul seems flown
away. She sleeps and yet she walks . . . .
PUTNAM: She cannot eat.
HALE: Cannot eat! Do you men also
have afflicted children?
PARRIS: No, no,
these are farmers.
John Proctor . . .
COREY: He don’t believe in witches.
PROCTOR: I never spoke on witches
one way or the other. Will you come, Giles?
COREY: No—no, John, I think not. I
have some few queer questions of my own to ask this fellow.
PROCTOR: I’ve heard you be a
sensible man, Mister Hale—I hope you’ll leave some of it in
PARRIS: Will you look at my
daughter, sir? She has tried to leap out the window; we discovered her this
morning on the highroad, waving her arm as though she’d fly.
HALE: Tries to fly?
PUTNAM: She cannot bear to hear the
lord’s name, mister Hale; that’s a sure sign of witchcraft afloat.
HALE: No—no . . . Now let me
instruct you. We cannot look to
superstition in this. The Devil is precise; the
marks of his presence are definite as
stone and we must look only for his proper signs and judge nothing beforehand,
and I must tell you all, that I shall not proceed unless you are prepared to
believe me if I should find no trace of hell in this.
PARRIS: It is agreed, sir—it is
agreed—we will abide by your judgment.
HALE: Good then. Now, sir, what were
your first warnings of this strangeness?
PARRIS: Why, sir . . .
I
discovered her . . . and
my niece Abigail and ten or twelve other girls, dancing in the forest last
night.
HALE: You permit dancing?!
PARRIS: No—no, it were secret . . .
ANN: Mr. Parris’
slave has knowledge of conjurin’,
sir.
PARRIS: We cannot be sure of that,
Goody Ann . . .
ANN: I know it, sir.
I sent my child . .
. she
should learn from Tituba who murdered her sisters.
REBECCA:
Goody Ann! You sent a child to conjure
up the dead . . . ?
ANN: (Hysterically.) Let God blame
me, not you, not you, Rebecca! I’ll not have you judging me any more! Mr. Hale,
is it a natural work to lose seven children before they live a day?
HALE: (Leafing through the book.)
Seven dead in childbirth?
ANN: Aye. (Hale looks in book.)
HALE: Have no fear now—we shall find
this devil out if he has come among us, and I mean to crush him utterly if he
has shown his face! (Corey crosses near bed, looking at Betty.)
REBECCA: Will it hurt the child,
sir?
HALE: I cannot tell. If she is truly
in the Devil’s grip we may have to
rip and tear to get
her free.
REBECCA: I think
I’ll go then. I am too old for this.
PARRIS: Why, Rebecca, we may
open up the boil of all our troubles
today!
REBECCA: Let us hope for that. (Up
toward door.) I go to God for you, sir.
PARRIS: I hope you do not mean we go
to Satan here!
REBECCA: I wish I knew. (She goes
out.)
PUTNAM: Come, Mister Hale, let’s get
on. Sit you here. (Hale sits on stool.)
COREY: Mister Hale . . .
I
have always wanted to ask a learned man—What
signifies the readin’ of strange books?
HALE: What books? (Ann rises.)
COREY: I cannot tell;
she hides them. Martha, my wife. I have
waked at night many times and found her in a corner, readin’ of a book. Now
what do you make of that?
HALE: Why, that’s not necessarily .
. .
COREY: It discomforts me! Last
night—mark this—I tried and tried and could not say my prayers. And then she
close her book and walks out of the house, and suddenly—mark this—I could pray
again!
HALE: Ah!—the stoppage of
prayer—that is strange. (Sits on bed, beside Betty.) I’d like to speak further
on that with you.
COREY: I’m not sayin’ she’s touched
the Devil, now, but I’d admire to know what books she reads and why she hides
them—she’ll not answer me, y’see.
HALE: Aye, we’ll discuss it. Now
mark me, if the Devil is in her you will witness some frightful wonders in this
room, so please to keep your wits about you. Mister Putnam, stand close in case
she flies.
(Turns to Betty, helps her sit up.) Now, Betty dear, will you sit up?
(Sits her up.) H’mmmm. Can you hear
me? I am John Hale, minister of
(Pauses. Passes his hand over her face.) In nomine Domini Sabaoth, sui filiique ite ad Infernos. [In the name of the Lord Sabaoth and of his son, depart to hell]
(Betty is laid back on pillow. Looks to Abigail.) Abigail, (Looks back to Betty.) what sort of dancing were you doing with her in the forest?
ABIGAIL: Why—common dancing is all.
PARRIS: I think I ought to say that
I—I saw a kettle in the grass where they were dancing.
ABIGAIL: That were only soup.
HALE: Soup? What sort of soup were
in this kettle, Abigail?
ABIGAIL: Why, it were beans—and
lintels, I think, and—
HALE: Mister Parris, you did not
notice, did you—any living thing in the kettle? A mouse, perhaps, a spider, a
frog—? (Parris looks at her.)
ABIGAIL: (Hysterically, seeing
Parris’s look.) That frog jumped in, we never put it in!
HALE: Abigail, it may be your cousin
is dying—Did you call the Devil last
night?
ABIGAIL: I never called him!
Tituba called him!
PARRIS: She called the Devil!
HALE: I should like to speak with
Tituba.
PARRIS: (Takes Ann to door, and
returns as she goes out.) Goody Ann, will you bring her up?
HALE: How did she call him?
ABIGAIL: I know not—she
spoke
HALE: Did you feel any strangeness
when she called him? A sudden cold wind, perhaps? A trembling below the ground?
ABIGAIL: I didn’t see no Devil!—(To
Betty, frantically.) Betty, wake up, Betty! Betty!
HALE:
You cannot evade me, Abigail.—Did
your cousin drink any of the brew in that kettle?
ABIGAIL: She never drank it!
HALE:
Did you drink it?
ABIGAIL: No, sir!
HALE: Did Tituba ask you to drink
it?
ABIGAIL: She tried but I refused.
HALE: Why are you concealing? Have
you sold yourself to Lucifer?
ABIGAIL: I never sold myself! I’m a
good girl—I—(Ann enters with Tituba.) I
did drink of the kettle!—She made me do it! She made Betty do it!
TITUBA: Abby!
ABIGAIL: She makes me drink blood!
PARRIS: Blood!!
ANN: My baby’s blood?
TITUBA: No—no, chicken blood,
I give she chicken
blood!
HALE: Woman, have you enlisted these
children for the devil?
TITUBA: No—no, sir,
I don’t truck with
the devil.
HALE: Why can she not wake?
Are you silencing this child?
TITUBA: I love me Betty!
HALE: You have sent your spirit out
upon this child, have you not? Are you gathering souls for the Devil?
ABIGAIL: She send her spirit on me
in church, she make me laugh at
prayer!
PARRIS: She have often laughed at
prayer!
ABIGAIL: She comes to me every night
to go and drink blood!
TITUBA: You beg me to conjure, Abby!
She beg me make charm—
ABIGAIL: I’ll tell you something.
She comes to me while I sleep; she’s always
making me dream
corruptions!
TITUBA: Abby!
ABIGAIL: I always hear her laughing
in my sleep. I hear her singing her
TITUBA: Mister Reverend, I never—
HALE:
When did you
compact with the Devil?
TITUBA: I don’t compact with no devil!
PARRIS: You will
confess yourself or I will take you out
and whip you to your death, Tituba!
PUTNAM: This woman must be hanged!
She must be taken and hanged!
TITUBA: No—no,
don’t hang Tituba. I tell him I don’t desire to work for him, sir.
HALE: Who, the Devil? Now, Tituba, I
know that when we bind ourselves to Hell it is very hard to break with it
entirely. Now, we are going to help you tear yourself free.—You would be a good
Christian woman, would you not, Tituba?
TITUBA: Ay, sir, a good Christian
woman.
HALE: And you love these little
children?
TITUBA: Oh, yes, sir, I don’t desire
to hurt little children.
HALE: And you love God, Tituba?
TITUBA: I love God with all my bein’.
HALE: Now in God’s holy name . . .
TITUBA: Bless Him . . . bless Him .
. .
HALE: And to His Glory . . .
TITUBA: Eternal Glory . . . Bless
Him . . . .Bless God . . .
HALE: Open yourself, Tituba—open
yourself and let God’s holy light
shine on you.
TITUBA: Oh, bless the Lord.
HALE:
When the devil comes to you does he ever
come with another person? Perhaps another person in the village? Someone you
know. Who came to you with the devil? Two? Three? Four?—how many?
TITUBA: There was four. There was
four.
PARRIS: Who? Who? Their names, their
names!
TITUBA: Oh, how many times he bid me
kill you, mister Parris!
PARRIS: Kill me!
TITUBA: He say Mister Parris must be
kill! Mister Parris no goodly man, Mister Parris mean man and no gentle man, and
he bid me rise out of my bed and cut your throat! I tell him, no! I don’t hate
that man! I don’t want kill that man! But he say, You work for me,
Tituba, and I make you free! I give you pretty dress to wear, and put you way
highup in the air and you gone fly back to
PARRIS: Sarah Good!
TITUBA: Aye, sir, and
Goody Osburn . . .
ANN: I knew it! Goody Osburn were
midwife to me three times. I begged
you, Thomas, did I not? I begged him not to call Osburn because I feared her, my
babies always shriveled in her hands . . .
HALE: Take courage, you must
give us all their names. How can you
bear to see these children suffering? Look at them, Tituba—look at their
God-given innocence; their souls are so tender; we must protect them, Tituba;
the devil is out and preying on them
like a beast upon the flesh of the pure lamb . . . God will bless you for
your help . . .
ABIGAIL: (Hands clasped, eyes
closed.) I want to open myself! I want the light of God, I want the sweet love
of Jesus! I danced for the Devil; I saw
him; I wrote in his book; I go back to Jesus; I kiss His hand—I
saw Sarah Good (Betty’s hands appear above headboard raised toward the
heaven.) with the Devil! I saw Goody
Osburn with the devil! I saw Bridget Bishop with the Devil! (As she is speaking
Betty picks it up as a chant.)
BETTY: (As all turn to her.) I saw
George Jacobs with the Devil! I saw Goody Howe with the Devil!
[see Mather on Elizabeth Howe]
PARRIS: She speaks. She speaks!
HALE: Glory to God!—it is broken,
they are free!
BETTY: (Calling it out hysterically
and with great relief.) I saw Martha Bellows with the Devil!
ABIGAIL: (It is rising to a great
glee.) I saw Goody Sibber with the Devil!
PUTNAM: The marshal, I’ll call the
marshal!
HALE: Let the marshal bring irons.
(On the girls’ ecstatic cries, CURTAIN FALLS.)
ACT I: Scene 2
Proctor’s house, eight days later.
PROCTOR: I were
planting far out to the forest edge.
PROCTOR: Aye, the farm is seeded.
The boys asleep? (Dips hands in water, wipes them.)
PROCTOR: Pray now for a fair summer.
PROCTOR: Are you well today?
PROCTOR: Oh, is it! Cider?
PROCTOR: Why? I have no business in
PROCTOR: I thought better of it,
since.
PROCTOR: Why’d you let her? You
heard me forbid her go to
PROCTOR: Court! What court?
PROCTOR: (Astonished.) Why, she’s
mad.
PROCTOR: Ah, they’d never hang . . .
.
PROCTOR: Oh, it is
a black mischief.
PROCTOR: Aye, it is, it is surely.
PROCTOR: (In thought. Sighing.) Aye,
she did, she did.
PROCTOR: Ay, they must, they must .
. . .It is a wonder that they do believe her.
PROCTOR: I’ll think on it.
PROCTOR: (Angering.) I know I cannot
keep it. I say I will think on it!
PROCTOR: (Defensively.) I am only
wondering how I may prove what she told me, Elizabeth. If the girl’s a saint
now, I think it is not easy to prove she’s fraud, and the town gone so silly.
She told it to me in a room alone—I have no proof for it.
PROCTOR: For a moment alone, aye.
PROCTOR: For a moment, I say. The
others come in soon after.
PROCTOR: Woman. I’ll not have your
suspicion any more.
PROCTOR: I’ll not have it!
PROCTOR: (With a violent undertone.)
You doubt me yet?!
PROCTOR: Now look you . . .
ELIZABETH:
I see what I see,
John.
[
PROCTOR: You will not judge me more,
PROCTOR: Oh,
MARY: (Weakly, sickly.) I am sick, I
am sick, Mister Proctor. Pray, pray hurt me not. My insides are all shuddery; I
am in the proceedings all day, sir.
PROCTOR: (Angrily in a loud voice as
Mary is crossing [walking
across room].) And what of these proceedings
here?—when will you proceed to keep this house as you are paid nine pound a year
to do?—and my wife not wholly well?
MARY: (Crossing to
http://www.historicalfolktoys.com/products/3inch/4708.gif
Poppet: Older spelling of puppet, or doll, associated with folk crafts sometimes with attributions of sympathetic magic, like voodoo dolls (which were inspired by uses of N European poppets).
MARY: (Fervently, with a trembling,
decayed voice.) We must all love each other now, Goody Proctor.
MARY: I’ll get up early in the
morning and clean the house. I must sleep now.
PROCTOR: Mary. Is it true there be
fourteen
women arrested?
MARY: No, sir. There be
thirty-nine now . . . . (She
suddenly breaks off and sobs.)
MARY:
Goody Osburn . . .
will hang!
PROCTOR: Hang! Hang, y’say?
MARY: Aye . . . .
PROCTOR: The deputy Governor will
permit it?
MARY: He sentenced her. He must—But
not Sarah Good. For Sarah Good confessed, y’see.
PROCTOR: Confessed! To what?
MARY: That she sometimes made a
compact with Lucifer, and wrote her name in his black book—with her blood—and
bound herself to torment Christians till God’s thrown down . . .
and
we all must worship Hell forevermore. (
PROCTOR: But . . . surely you know
what a jabberer she is. Did you tell them that?
MARY: Mister Proctor, in open court
she near choked us all to death.
PROCTOR: How choked you?
MARY: She sent her spirit out.
MARY: She tried to kill me many
times, Goody Proctor!
MARY: (Innocently.) I never knew it
before. I never knew anything before. When she come into the court I say to
myself, I must not accuse this woman, for she sleep in ditches, and so very old
and poor . . . But
then . . . then
she sit there, denying and denying, and I feel a misty coldness climbin’ up my
back, and the skin on my skull begin to creep, and I feel a clamp around my neck
and I cannot breathe air; and then . . .
(Entranced
as though it were a miracle.)
I hear a voice, a screamin’ voice, and it were my voice . .
. and
all at once I remembered everything she done to me!
(Slight pause as Proctor watches
PROCTOR: (Looking at
MARY: (Like one awakened to a
marvelous secret insight.) So many time, Mister Proctor, she come to this very
door beggin’ bread and a cup of cider—and mark this—whenever I turned her away
empty—she mumbled.
MARY: But what does she mumble? You
must remember, Goody Proctor—last month—a Monday, I think—she walked away and I
thought my guts would burst for two days after. Do you remember it?
MARY: And so I told that to Judge
Hathorne, and he asks her so—“Goody Good,” says he, “what curse do you mumble
that this girl must fall sick after turning you away?” And then she replies:
(Mimicking an old crone.)—“Why, your excellence, no curse at all; I only say my
commandments; I hope I may say my commandments,” says she!
MARY: Aye, but then Judge Hathorne
say, “Recite for us your commandments!”—and of all the ten she could not say a
single one. She never knew no commandments, and they had her in a flat lie!
PROCTOR: And so condemned her?
MARY: (Impatient at his stupidity.)
Why, they must when she condemned herself.
PROCTOR: But
the proof, the proof?
MARY: (With greater impatience with
him.) I told you the proof—it’s
hard proof, hard as rock the judges said.
PROCTOR: You will not go to that
court again, Mary Warren.
MARY: (Defiantly.) I must tell you,
sir, I will be gone every day now. I am amazed you do not see what weighty work
we do.
PROCTOR: What work you do! It’s
strange work for a Christian girl to hang old women!
MARY: But, Mister Proctor, they will
not hang them if they confess. Sarah Good will only sit in jail some time . . .
and
here’s a
wonder for you, think on this. Goody Good is pregnant!
[Instructor’s note: The description of Goody Good here and below matches a feminist critique of the “Witch Holocaust” of the late Renaissance and Reformation, in which women who do not conform to patriarchal or domestic norms are especially persecuted. But, with all the complexity of a tragedy, note how Mary Warren also resists patriarchal control, e.g., “the whip”)]
MARY: (Happy with wonders of the
court.) They had Doctor Griggs examine her and she’s full to the brim. And
smokin’ a pipe all these years and no
husband either!—but she’s safe, thank God, for they’ll not hurt the innocent
child. (Smiling happily.) But be that not a marvel? You must see it, sir, it’s
God’s work we do . . . . So I’ll be gone every day for some time. I’m . . .
I
am an official of the court, they say, and I . . .
PROCTOR: I’ll official you! (Rises,
gets whip.)
MARY:
(Striving for her authority.) I’ll
not stand whipping any more! The Devil’s loose in
PROCTOR: I’ll whip the Devil out of
you . . . ! (With whip raised she yells.)
MARY: (Pointing at
MARY: You were somewhat mentioned.
But I said I never see no sign you ever sent your spirit out to hurt no one, and
seeing I do live so closely with you, they dismissed it.
MARY: I am bound by law; I cannot
tell it.
PROCTOR: (In disgust at her.) Go to
bed.
MARY:
I’ll not be ordered
to bed no more, Mister Proctor! I am eighteen and a woman, however single!
PROCTOR: Do you wish to sit up?—then
sit up.
MARY: (Stamping foot.) I wish to go
to bed!
PROCTOR: (In anger.) Good night,
then!
MARY: Good night. (She goes out L.
He throws whip down.)
PROCTOR: There’ll be no noose . . .
PROCTOR: They dismissed it. You
heard her say . . .
PROCTOR: Sit you down . . .
PROCTOR: I say sit down! Now, we
must be wise,
PROCTOR: Fear nothing. I’ll find
Ezekiel Cheever. I’ll tell him she said it was all sport.
PROCTOR: What have I to say to
Abigail?
PROCTOR: What promise?
PROCTOR: She cannot think it.
PROCTOR: I may blush for my sin.
PROCTOR: And what see you? What you
see,
PROCTOR: When will you know me,
woman? Were I stone I would have cracked for shame this seven-month!
PROCTOR: Good, then. I’ll go.
HALE: Good evening.
PROCTOR: Why, Mister Hale! Good
evening to you, sir. Come in, come in.
HALE: I hope I do not startle you.
HALE: You are Goodwife Proctor.
PROCTOR: Aye:
HALE: I hope you’re not off to bed
yet.
PROCTOR: No—no . . . let you come
in, Mister Hale. We are not used to visitors after dark, but you’re welcome
here. Will you sit you down, sir?
HALE: I will. Let you sit, Goodwife
Proctor.
PROCTOR: Will you drink cider,
Mister Hale?
HALE: No, it rebels my stomach—I
have some further traveling yet tonight. Sit you down, sir. I will not keep you
long, but I have some business with you.
PROCTOR: Business of the court?
HALE: (Hesitantly.) No . . .
no,
I come of my own, without the court’s authority. Hear me. I know not if you are
aware, but your wife’s name is . . .
mentioned
in the court.
PROCTOR: We know it, sir. Our Mary
Warren told us. We are entirely amazed.
HALE: I am a stranger here, as you
know. And in my ignorance, I find it
hard to draw a clear opinion of them that come accused before the court. And so
this afternoon, and now tonight, I go from house to house . . . . I come now
from Rebecca Nurse’s house and . . .
PROCTOR: (Taken aback.) Surely you
cannot think so.
HALE: This is a strange time,
Mister. No man may longer doubt the
powers of the dark
are gathered in monstrous attack upon this village. There is too much
evidence now to deny it. You will agree, sir?
PROCTOR: (Evading.) I . . .
have
no knowledge in that line. But it’s
hard to think so
pious a woman be secretly a Devil’s bitch after seventy year of such good
prayer.
HALE: Aye. But the Devil is a wily
one, you cannot deny it. However, she is far from accused, and I know she will
not be. I thought, sir, to put some
questions as to the Christian character of this house, if you’ll permit me.
PROCTOR: Why, we . . .
have
no fear of questions, sir.
HALE: Good, then. In the book of
record that Mister Parris keeps, I note that you are rarely in the church on
Sabbath Day . . . .
PROCTOR: No, sir, you are mistaken .
. . .
HALE: Only twenty-six time in
seventeen month, sir. I must call that rare. Will you tell me why you are so
absent?
PROCTOR: Mister Hale, (Slight pause
as he controls himself.) I never knew I
must account to that man for I come to church or stay at home . . . . My
wife were sick this winter.
HALE: (Kindly.) So I am told. But
you, Mister, why could you not come alone?
PROCTOR: I surely did come when I
could, and when I could not I prayed in this house.
HALE: Mister Proctor,
your house is not a church. A Christian
on Sabbath Day must be in church . . . . Tell me—you have three children.
PROCTOR: Aye. Boys.
HALE: How come it that only
two are baptized?
PROCTOR: (Pauses as he controls
himself and looks at
HALE: I must say it, Mister Proctor;
that is not for you to decide. The
man’s ordained, therefore the light of God is in him.
PROCTOR: It may be I have been too
quick to bring the man to book, but you cannot think we ever desired the
destruction of religion. I think that’s in your mind, is it not?
HALE: I . . .
have
. . . there
is a softness in your record, sir, a softness.
HALE: Do you know your commandments,
HALE: And you, Mister?
PROCTOR: I . . .
am
sure I do, sir.
HALE: Let you repeat them, if you
will.
PROCTOR:
. .
. The Commandments?
HALE: Aye.
PROCTOR: Thou shalt not kill. Thou
shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods, nor make unto thee any graven image. Thou
shalt not take the name of the Lord in vain; thou shalt have no other gods
before me . . . thou
shalt remember the Sabbath Day and keep it holy. Thou shalt honor thy father and
mother. Thou shalt not bear false witness. Thou shalt not make unto thee any
graven image.
HALE: You have said that twice, sir.
PROCTOR: Aye.
PROCTOR: (As though a secret arrow
has pained his heart.) Aye! (Trying to grin it away—to Hale.) You see, sir,
between the two of us we do know them all. (Hale only looks at Proctor, deep in
his attempt to define this man. Proctor grows more uneasy.) I think it be a
small fault.
HALE: (Thoughtfully and
regretfully.) Theology, sir, is a fortress; no crack in a fortress may be
accounted small.
PROCTOR: There be no love for Satan
in this house.
HALE: I pray it, I pray it dearly.
(Rising.) Well, then, I’ll bid you good night.
HALE: Goody Proctor, I do not judge
you. My duty is to add what I may to the Godly wisdom of the court. I pray you
both good health and good fortune. Good night, sir. (Starts out R.)
HALE: What’s that?
PROCTOR: I . . .
I
have no witness and cannot prove it, except my word be taken. But
I know the
children’s sickness had naught to do with witchcraft.
HALE: (Stopped, struck.) Naught to
do . . . ?
PROCTOR: They were discovered by Mr.
Parris sporting in the woods. They were startled, and took sick.
HALE: Who told you this?
PROCTOR: Abigail Williams.
HALE: Abigail!
PROCTOR: Aye. She told me the day
you came, sir?
HALE: Why . . .
why
did you keep this?
PROCTOR: I never knew until tonight
that the world is gone daft with this nonsense.
HALE:
Nonsense! Mister, I
have myself examined Tituba, Sarah Good and numerous others that have confessed
to dealing with the Devil. They have confessed it.
PROCTOR: (With dry, bitter humor.) And why not, if they
must hang for denyin’ it? There are them that
will swear to anything before they’ll hang; have you never thought of that?
HALE: (It is his own suspicion, but
he resists it.) I have. I . . .
I
have indeed. And you . . .
would
you testify this to the court?
PROCTOR: I . . . . had not reckoned
with going into court . . . . But if I must I will.
HALE: Ah, you falter there? I think
you . . .
PROCTOR: (Controlling himself.)
.
. . I falter nothing, but I . . .
I
may wonder if my story will be credited in such a court. I do wonder on it, when
a minister as steady minded as you will suspicion such a woman that never lied;
she cannot lie, and the world knows she cannot. I may falter somewhat, Mister, I
am no fool.
HALE: (Quietly—it has impressed
him.) Proctor, let you open with me now, for I have heard a thing that troubles
me. It’s said you hold no belief that
there may even be witches in the world. Is that true, sir?
PROCTOR: I have no knowledge of it;
the Bible speaks of witches, and I will not deny them.
HALE: And you, woman?
HALE: (Shocked.) You cannot!
HALE: You surely do not fly against
the Gospel, the Gospel . . .
PROCTOR: She do not mean to doubt
the Gospel, sir, you cannot think it. This be a Christian house, sir, a
Christian house.
HALE: (Sighing.) God keep you both;
let the third child be quickly baptized and go you without fail each Sunday into
Sabbath prayer; and keep a solemn, quiet way among you. I think . . .
(Enter
Corey, R.)
COREY: John!
PROCTOR: Giles! What’s the matter?
COREY: They take my wife. And
Rebecca Nurse!
(Nurse enters R.) [Francis Nurse = husband of Rebecca Nurse]
PROCTOR: (To Nurse.) Rebecca’s in
the jail!
NURSE: John, Cheever come and take
her in his wagon. We’ve only now come from the jail and they’ll not even let us
in to see them.
NURSE: Reverend Hale. Can you not
speak to the Deputy Governor?—I’m sure he mistakes these people . . .
HALE: Pray calm yourself, Mister
Nurse . . . .
NURSE: My wife is the very brick and
mortar of the church, Mister Hale—and Martha Corey, there cannot be a woman
closer yet to God than Martha.
HALE: (Incredulously.) How is
Rebecca charged, Mr. Nurse?
NURSE:
For murder, she’s charged! “For the
marvelous and supernatural murder of Goody Putnam’s babies.” What am I to
do, Mr. Hale?
HALE: Believe me, sir, if Rebecca
Nurse be tainted, then nothing’s left to stop the whole green world from
burning. Let you rest upon the justice of the court; the court will send her
home, I know it . . .
NURSE: You cannot mean she will be
tried in the court!
PROCTOR: How may such a woman murder
children?
HALE: Man, remember, until an hour
before the Devil fell, God thought him beautiful in Heaven.
COREY: I never said my wife were a
witch, Mister Hale, I only said she were reading books!
HALE: Mister Corey,
exactly what
complaint were made on your wife?
COREY: That bloody mongrel
Walcott charge her. Y’see,
he buy a pig of my wife four or five
year ago, and the pig died soon after. So he come dancin’ in for his money back.
So my Martha she says to him, “Walcott, if you haven’t the wit to feed a pig
properly, you’ll not live to own many,” she says. Now she goes to court and
claims that from that day to this he cannot keep a pig alive for more than four
weeks because my Martha bewitch them with her books! (Enter Cheever R.)
CHEEVER: Good evening. Good evening
to you, John Proctor.
PROCTOR: Why . . .
Mister
Cheever. Good evening. I hope you come not on business of the court?
CHEEVER: I do, Proctor, aye. I am
clerk of the court now, y’know. (Takes a warrant from pocket.) I have
a warrant for your
wife.
PROCTOR: What say you? A warrant for
my wife? Who charged her?
CHEEVER: Why,
Abigail Williams charge her.
PROCTOR: Abigail Williams? On what
proof, what proof!
CHEEVER: Mister Proctor, I have
little time . . . . The court bid me search your house, but I like not to search
a house. So will you
hand me any poppets that your wife may keep here.
PROCTOR: Poppets?
CHEEVER: I spy a poppet, Goody
Proctor.
CHEEVER: Would you please to give it
to me?
CHEEVER: (Carefully holds doll.) Do
you keep any others in this house?
PROCTOR: No, nor this one either
till tonight.
CHEEVER: Now, woman . . .
will
you please to come with me.
PROCTOR: She will not. (To
HALE: (Bewildered.) What signifies a
poppet, Mister Cheever?
CHEEVER: (Turns doll over in his
hands.) Why, they say it may signify that she . . .
(He
has lifted doll’s skirt, and his eyes widen in astonished fear.) Why, this, this
. . .
PROCTOR: What’s there?
CHEEVER: Why . . .
(Draws
out a long needle from doll.) it is
a needle!
PROCTOR: And what signifies a
needle?
CHEEVER: The girl, the Williams
girl, Abigail Williams, sir. She sat
to dinner in Reverend Parris’ house tonight, and without word nor warnin’, she
falls to the floor. Like a struck beast, he says, and screamed a scream that a
bull would weep to hear. And he goes to save her, and stuck two inches
in the flesh of her belly he draw a
needle out. And demandin’ of her how she come to be so stabbed, she . . .
(To
Proctor.) testify it were your wife’s
familiar spirit pushed it in.
[The poppet is used as a voodoo
doll. (The European tradition supposedly precedes the Haitian.)]
PROCTOR: Why, she done it herself! I
hope you’re not takin’ this for proof,
Mister Hale.
CHEEVER:
‘Tis hard proof.—I find here a
poppet Goody Proctor keeps. I have found it, sir. And in the belly of the poppet
a needle stuck. I tell you true, Proctor, I never warranted
[expected]
to see such proof
of Hell, and I bid you obstruct me not, for I . . .
(Enter
PROCTOR: Here now! Mary, how did
this poppet come into my house?
MARY: What poppet’s that, sir?
PROCTOR: This poppet, this poppet.
MARY: (Looks at it, and evasively
says.) Why, I . . . I
think it is mine.
PROCTOR: (A threat.) It is your
poppet, is it not?
MARY: It
. .
. is,
sir.
PROCTOR: And how did it come into
this house?
MARY: Why . . .
I
made it in the court, sir, and . . .
give
it to Goody Proctor tonight.
PROCTOR: (To Hale.) Now, sir—do you
have it?
HALE: Mary Warren . . .
a
needle have been found inside this poppet.
MARY: Why, I meant no harm by it,
sir . . . .
PROCTOR: You stuck that needle in
yourself?
MARY: I . . .
I
believe I did, sir, I . . .
PROCTOR: What say you now?
HALE: (Still kindly endeavoring to
get at the truth.) Child . . .
you
are certain this be your natural
memory?—may it be, perhaps, that
someone conjures
you even now to say this?
MARY: Conjures me?—Why, no, sir, I
am entirely myself, I think. Let you ask Susanna Wallcott—she saw me sewin’ it
in court. Ask Abby, Abby sat beside me when I made it.
HALE: Mary . . .
you
charge a cold and cruel murder on Abigail.
MARY: Murder! I charge no . . .
HALE: Abigail were stabbed tonight;
a needle were found stuck into her belly . . . .
HALE: Aye.
CHEEVER: You’ve heard that,
sir!—Ripped out of the world! You heard it!
PROCTOR: (Suddenly
snatches warrant out of Cheever’s hand
and rips it.) Out with you!
CHEEVER: You’ve ripped the Deputy
Governor’s warrant, man!
PROCTOR: Damn the Deputy Governor!
Out of my house!
HALE: Now, Proctor, Proctor . . .
PROCTOR: (To Hale.) Get y’ gone with
them! You are a broken minister.
HALE: Proctor, if she is innocent
the court . . .
PROCTOR: If she is innocent!
Why do you never wonder if Parris be
innocent, or Abigail? Is the accuser always holy now? Were they born this
morning as clean as God’s fingers? I’ll tell you what’s walking
PROCTOR: You will not go! (Sweeps
his gun up, pointing it at Cheever.)
PROCTOR: (Taking her hands.) I will
bring you home. I will bring you soon.
PROCTOR: I will fall like an ocean
on that court! Fear nothing,
HALE: Mister Proctor . . .
PROCTOR: (His weeping heart pressing
his words.) Out of my sight!
HALE: (Pleading.) Charity, Proctor,
Charity—what I have heard in her favor I will not fear to testify in court. God
help me, I cannot judge her guilty nor innocent . . . . I know not. Only this
consider—the world goes mad, and it profits nothing you should lay the cause to
the vengeance of a little girl.
PROCTOR: You are a coward! Though
you be ordained in God’s own tears, you are a coward now! (Hale goes out with
Nurse.)
COREY: John . . .
tell
me, are we lost?
PROCTOR: Go home now, Giles. We’ll
speak on it tomorrow.
COREY: Let you think on it; we’ll
come early, eh?
PROCTOR: Aye. Go now, Giles.
COREY: Good night, then. (Corey goes
out R. Long pause.)
MARY: Mister Proctor, very likely
they’ll let her come home once they’re given proper evidence.
PROCTOR: You’re coming to that court
with me, Mary. You will tell it in the court.
MARY: I cannot charge murder on
Abigail . . . .
PROCTOR: You will tell the court how
that poppet come here and who stuck the needle in.
MARY: She’ll kill me for sayin’
that! Abby’ll charge lechery on you,
Mister Proctor! [lechery =
sexual indulgence]
PROCTOR: (Stops.)
. .
. She’s told you!
MARY: I have known it, sir. She’ll
ruin you with it, I know she will.
PROCTOR: (Advancing on her.) Good.
Then her saintliness is done with. We
will slide together into our pit. You will tell the court what you know.
MARY: I cannot. They’ll turn on me.
PROCTOR: (Grabs her.) My wife will
never die for me. I will bring your guts into your mouth, but
that goodness will not die for me.
(Mary continues sobbing, “I cannot!”)
CURTAIN
ACT II: Scene 2
The vestry room of the Meeting House
where an examination is going on as curtain rises.
[Meeting House = church; vestry =
a room where church members meet for business]
HATHORNE: Now, Martha Corey, there is abundant evidence in our hands to show that you have given yourself to the reading of fortunes. Do you deny it? [common folk beliefs & practices even today]
MARTHA: I am innocent to a witch. I
know not what a witch is.
HATHORNE: How do you know then that
you are not a witch?
MARTHA: If I were I would know it.
HATHORNE: Why do you hurt these
children?
MARTHA: I do not hurt them. I scorn
it!
COREY: I have evidence for the
court!
DANFORTH: You will keep your seat!
COREY: Thomas Putnam is reachin’ out for
land! [compare Mather
re Martha Carrier]
DANFORTH: Remove that man, Marshal!
COREY:
You’re hearing
lies, lies!
HATHORNE: Arrest him, Excellency!
COREY: I have evidence, why will you
not hear my evidence!
They’ll be hangin’ my wife—
HATHORNE:
How do you dare
come roarin’ into this court! Are you gone daft, Corey?
COREY: You’re not a
DANFORTH: Who is this man?
PARRIS: Giles Corey, sir, and a more
contentious . . .
COREY: I am asked the question and I
am old enough to answer it! My name is Corey, sir, Giles Corey.
I have six hundred
acres, and timber in addition. It is my wife you be condemning now.
DANFORTH: And how do you imagine to
help her cause with such contemptuous riot? Now begone, your old age alone keeps
you out of jail for this.
COREY: They’re tellin’ lies about my
wife, sir, I .
. .
DANFORTH: Then you take it upon
yourself to decide what this court shall believe and what it shall set aside?
COREY: Your Excellency, we mean no
disrespect for . . .
DANFORTH: Disrespect, indeed!—It is
disruption, Mister. This is the highest court of the supreme government of this
province, do you know it?
COREY: Your Excellency,
I only said she were readin’ books, sir,
and they come and take her out of my house for . . .
[right of privacy, invasion of
domestic utopia]
DANFORTH: What books, what . . . ?
COREY: It is my third wife, sir, and
I never had
no wife that be so taken with books, d’y’understand, sir, and I thought to find
the cause of it, d’y’see, but it were no witch I blamed her for . . . I have
broke charity with her.
HALE: Excellency, he claims hard
evidence for his wife’s defense. I think that in all justice you must
. .
.
DANFORTH: Then
let him submit his evidence in proper
affidavit. You are certainly aware of our procedure here, Mr. Hale. Clear
this room.
WILLARD: Come now, Giles.
NURSE:
We are desperate, sir; we come here
three days now and cannot be heard.
DANFORTH: Who is this man?
NURSE: Francis Nurse, your
Excellency.
HALE: His wife’s Rebecca that were
condemned this morning.
NURSE: Excellency, we have proof of
it, sir. They are all deceiving you.
HATHORNE: This is contempt, sir,
contempt!
DANFORTH: Peace, Judge Hathorne. Do
you know who I am, Mister Nurse?
NURSE: I surely do, sir, and I think
you must be a wise judge to be what you are.
DANFORTH: (Deliberately.) And do you
know that
near to four hundred are in the jails from
NURSE: I . . .
DANFORTH: And seventy-two condemned
to hang by that signature?
NURSE: (With deference but
emphasis.) Excellency, I never thought to say it to such a weighty judge, but
you are deceived.
(All turn to see Mary Warren ENTER. with Proctor and Corey. Mary is keeping her eyes to the ground, Proctor has her elbow as though she were breakable.)
PARRIS: (In shock.) Mary Warren!
What, what are you about here?
PROCTOR: She would speak with the
Deputy-Governor.
COREY: She has been strivin’ with
her soul all week, Your Honor; she comes now to tell the truth to you.
DANFORTH: Who is this?
PROCTOR: (Unafraid.) John Proctor,
sir. Elizabeth Proctor is my wife.
PARRIS: Beware this man, Your
Excellency, this man is mischief.
HALE: (With great urgency.) I think
you must hear the girl, sir, she . . .
DANFORTH: (He has become very
interested in Mary Warren and only raises a hand toward Hale.) Peace. What would
you tell us, Mary Warren?
PROCTOR: (He and Mary Warren step
forward.) She never saw no spirits, sir.
DANFORTH: (With great alarm and
surprise, to Mary.) Never saw no spirits?!
COREY: (Eagerly.) Never.
PROCTOR: (Has three papers in his
hand.) She has signed a deposition, sir . . . .
DANFORTH: No, no, I accept no
deposition. Tell me, Mister Proctor, have you given out this story in the
village?
PROCTOR: We have not.
PARRIS: They’ve come to overthrow
the court, sir! This man is . . .
DANFORTH: I pray you, Mister Parris.
Do you know,
Mister Proctor, that the entire contention of the State in these trials is that
the voice of Heaven is speaking through the children?
PROCTOR: I know that, sir.
DANFORTH: And you, Mary Warren . . .
how
came you to cry out people for sending their spirits against you?
MARY: (Between Corey and Proctor.)
It were
pretense, sir.
DANFORTH: (With great unbelief.) Ah?
And the
other girls? Susanna Wallcott, and . . .
the
others? They are also pretending?
MARY: Aye, sir.
DANFORTH: Indeed. Now, Mister
Proctor, before I decide whether I shall hear you or not, it is my duty to tell
you this. We burn a hot fire here; it melts down all concealment. Are you
certain in your conscience, Mister, that your evidence is the truth?
PROCTOR: It is. And you will surely
know it.
DANFORTH: I take it you came here to
declare this revelation in the open court before the public?
PROCTOR: I thought I would, aye . .
. with
your permission.
DANFORTH: Now, sir—what is your
purpose in so doing?
PROCTOR: Why, I . . .
I
would free my wife, sir . . .
DANFORTH: There lurks nowhere in
your heart, nor hidden in your spirit, any desire to undermine this court?
PROCTOR: Why, no, sir.
DANFORTH: (With an implied threat.)
I tell you straight, Mister—I have seen
marvels in this court. I have seen people choked before my eyes by spirits,
I have seen them stuck by pins and slashed by daggers. I have until this moment
not the slightest reason to suspect that the children may be deceiving me. Do
you understand my meaning?
PROCTOR: It is the children only,
and this one will swear she lied to you.
DANFORTH: Judge Hathorne! (Danforth
leans across table, to Hathorne, whispers to him. Hathorne nods.)
HATHORNE: Aye, she’s the one.
DANFORTH:
Mister Proctor . .
. this
morning, your wife sent me a claim in which she states that she is pregnant now.
PROCTOR: My wife pregnant!
DANFORTH: There be
no sign of it—we have
examined her body.
PROCTOR: But if she says she is
pregnant, then she must be! That woman
will never lie, Mister Danforth.
DANFORTH: She will not?
PROCTOR: Never, sir, never.
DANFORTH: Mister Proctor, if I
should tell you now that I will let her be kept another month; and if she begin
to show her natural signs, you shall
have her living yet another year until she is delivered—(Looks at Proctor.)
what say you to that? (Proctor is struck silent.) Come now. You say your only
purpose is to save your wife. Good then, she is saved at least this year, and a
year is long. What say you, sir? (Claps hands.) It is done now. Will you drop
this charge? (Proctor thinks, looks at Corey.)
PROCTOR: I . . .
I
think I cannot.
DANFORTH: Then your purpose is
somewhat larger?
PARRIS: (Triumphantly.) He’s come to
overthrow this court, Your Honor!
PROCTOR: (Sincerely.) These are my
friends. Their wives are also . . .
DANFORTH: (A sudden change of
manner.) I judge you not, sir. Sit down. I am ready to hear your evidence.
(Nurse crosses to Corey, talks to him.)
PROCTOR: (Crossing, puts Mary on
stool.) I come not to hurt the court, I only . . .
(Proctor
crosses, talks with Corey and Nurse.)
[“crossing,” “crosses” =
moving diagonally across stage]
DANFORTH: Marshal, go into the Court
and bid Judge Stroughton and Judge Sewall declare recess for one hour. And let
them go to the tavern, if they will. All witnesses and prisoners are to be kept
in the building.
(Danforth crosses up above table to chair. Parris pulls chair out. Danforth sits, puts on glasses.)
Now what deposition do you have for us, Mister Proctor? And I beg you be clear, open as the sky, and honest.
PROCTOR: (Handing Danforth paper.)
Will you read this first, sir? It’s a sort of testament. The people signing it
declare their good opinion of Rebecca and my wife, and Martha Corey. (Danforth
looks at paper.) These are all covenant
people, landholding farmers, members
of the church.
(Delicately, trying to point out a paragraph.) If you’ll notice, sir—they’ve known the women many years and never saw no signs they had dealings with the Devil.
DANFORTH: (Glancing at long list.)
How many names are here?
NURSE: Ninety-one, Your Excellency.
PARRIS: These people should be
summoned for questioning.
NURSE: (Alarmed.) Mister Danforth, I
gave them all my word no harm would come to them for signing this.
PARRIS: This is a clear attack upon
the court!
HALE: (To Parris. Trying to contain
himself.) Is every defense an attack upon the court?
DANFORTH: (Hands Cheever the paper.)
Mister Cheever, have warrants drawn for all of these—arrest for examination.
(Cheever exits. To Proctor.) Now, Mister, what other information do you have for
us? (Nurse is still standing, horrified.) You may sit, Mister Nurse.
NURSE: I have brought trouble on
these people, I have . . . .
DANFORTH: No, old man, you have not
hurt these people if they are of good conscience. But you must understand, sir,
that a person is either with this court
or he must be counted against it; there be no road between. (Mary suddenly
sobs.) She’s not hearty, I see.
[G.W. Bush, 2001: "You're either
with us or against us in the fight against
terror."]
PROCTOR: No, she’s not, sir. (To
Mary, bending to her, holding her shoulders, quiet and kindly.) Now remember
what the angel Raphael said to the boy Tobias. Remember it.
MARY: (Hardly audible.) Aye.
PROCTOR: “Do that which is good and
no harm shall come to thee.”
DANFORTH: Come, man, we wait you.
COREY: John, my deposition, give him
mine.
PROCTOR: Aye. (Cheever enters.
Proctor hands Danforth another paper.) This is Mister Corey’s disposition.
(Crosses back to above Mary, pats her shoulders, then drops hands.)
DANFORTH: Oh? (He looks down at it.)
HATHORNE: (Suspiciously.) What
lawyer drew this, Corey?
COREY: You know I never hired no
lawyer in my life, Hathorne.
DANFORTH: (Finishing the reading of
it.) It is very well-phrased. My compliments. Mister Parris, if Mr. Putnam is in
the court, bring him in. (Parris exits D.R.) You have no legal training, Mister
Corey?
COREY: I have the best, sir—I am
thirty-three time in court in my life. And always plaintiff, too
DANFORTH: (Lightly.) Oh, then you’re
much put-upon.
COREY: I am never put-upon;
I know my rights, sir, and I will have
them.
(Putnam enters.) Aye, there he is!
DANFORTH: Mr. Putnam, I have here
an accusation by Mr. Corey against you.
He states that you coldly prompted your daughter to cry witchery upon George
Jacobs that is now in jail.
PUTNAM: It is a lie!
DANFORTH: What proof do you submit
for your charge, sir?
COREY: My proof is there! (The
paper.) If Jacobs hangs for a witch he
forfeit up his property—that’s law! And there is
none but Putnam
with the coin to buy so great a piece. This man is killing his neighbors for
their land!
DANFORTH: But proof, sir, proof . .
. .
COREY: (Emphatically.) The proof is
there!—I have it from an honest man who heard Putnam say it!
The day his
daughter cried out on Jacobs, he said she’d given him a fair gift of land.
HATHORNE: And the name of this man?
COREY: (Quietly.)
I will not give you no name. I
mentioned my wife’s name once and I’ll burn in hell long enough for that. I
stand mute.
DANFORTH: (Rather regretfully.) In
that case, I have no choice but to arrest you for contempt of this court, do you
know that?
COREY: This is a hearing; you cannot
clap me for contempt of a hearing.
DANFORTH: Oh, it is a proper lawyer!
Do you wish me to declare the court in full session here?—or will you give me
good reply?
COREY: I cannot give you no name,
sir, I cannot . . . .
DANFORTH: You are a foolish old man.
Mr. Cheever, (Cheever crosses to stool above table. Sits, opens writing box,
prepares to write. Puts on glasses.) begin the record. The court is now is
session. I ask you, Mister Corey . . .
PROCTOR: Your Honor . . .
he
has the story in confidence, sir, and he . . .
PARRIS: The Devil lives on such
confidences! (To Danforth.) Without confidences there could be no
conspiracy, Your Honor!
HATHORNE: I think it must be broken,
sir.
DANFORTH: (To Corey, in friendly
tone, but a little impatient.) Old man, if your informant tells the truth let
him come here openly like a decent man. But if he hides in anonymity I must know
why. Now, sir, the government and central church demand of you the name of him
who reported Mister Thomas Putnam a common murderer.
HALE: Excellency . . .
DANFORTH: Mister Hale.
HALE: (Regretfully.) We cannot blink
[ignore]
it more. There is a
prodigious fear of this court in the country . . . . (Corey nods slightly in
agreement.)
DANFORTH: (He is angered now.)
Reproach me not with the fear in the country; there is fear in the country
because there is a moving plot to topple Christ in the country!
HALE: But
it does not follow that everyone accused
is part of it.
DANFORTH: No uncorrupted man may
fear this court, Mister Hale! (Directly at Proctor.) None! Mr. Corey, you are
under arrest in contempt of this court. Now sit you down and take counsel with
yourself, or you will be set in the jail until you decide to answer all
questions.
(Corey goes for
Putnam.)
PROCTOR: No, Giles!
COREY: I’ll cut your throat, Putnam!
I’ll kill you yet.
PROCTOR: (Put Giles on bench L.)
Peace, Giles, peace! We’ll prove ourselves, now we will.
COREY: Say nothin’ more, John. He’s
only playing you.
He means to hang us all.
DANFORTH: This is a court of law,
Mister. I’ll have no effrontery here.
PROCTOR: Forgive him, sir, for his
old age. Peace, Giles, we’ll prove it all now. (Putnam exits D.R.) (Crossing
U.L. of Mary, puts hands on her arms.) You cannot weep, Mary. Remember the angel
what he say to the boy. Hold to it, now; there is your rock. (Mary quiets. He
takes out a paper and turns to Danforth.) This is
Mary Warren’s deposition. I . . .
I
would ask you remember, sir, while you read it, that until two week ago she were
no different than the other children are today. (He is speaking reasonably,
restraining all his fears, his anger, his anxiety, like a young lawyer.) You saw
her scream, she howled, she swore familiar spirits choked her; she even
testified that Satan, in the form of women now in jail, tried to win her soul
away, and then when she refused . . .
DANFORTH: We know all this.
PROCTOR: Ay, sir. She swears now
that she never saw Satan; nor any spirit, vague or clear, that Satan may have
sent to hurt her. And she declares her friends are lying now.
DANFORTH: Her deposition, Mister
Proctor. (Proctor hands it to him. Hathorne goes to L. of Danforth and starts
reading. Parris comes to his side.)
PARRIS: (Timidly.) I should like to
question . . .
DANFORTH: (His first real outburst,
in which his contempt for Parris is clear.) Mister Parris, I bid you be silent!
Sit you down, Mr. Proctor. You sit there. (To Mary, indicating bench D.S.
[downstage]
of table. Proctor takes Mary to bench, returns and sits L.
of table.) Mister Cheever, will you go into the court and bring the children
here. (Cheever gets up, goes out D.R. Danforth now turns to Mary.) Mary Warren,
how came you to this turnabout? Has Mister Proctor threatened you for this
deposition?
MARY: No, sir.
DANFORTH: Has he ever threatened
you?
MARY: No, sir.
DANFORTH: Then you tell me that you
sat in my court, callously lying when you knew that people would hang by your
evidence? Answer me!
MARY: (Almost inaudibly.) I did,
sir.
DANFORTH: How were you instructed in
your life?—Do you not know that God damns all liars? Or is it now that you lie?
MARY: No, sir—I am with God now.
DANFORTH: You are with God now.
MARY: Aye, sir.
DANFORTH: I will tell you this—you
are either lying now, or you were lying in the court, and in either case you
have committed perjury and you will go to jail for it. You cannot lightly say
you lied, Mary. Do you know that?
MARY: I cannot lie no more. I am
with God, I am with God . . . . (But she breaks into sobs at the thought of it.
ENTER Cheever, Susanna Wallcott, Mercy Lewis, and finally Abigail D.R.)
DANFORTH: Sit you down, children.
(Silently they sit.)
Your friend Mary Warren has given us a deposition. In which she swears that she never saw familiar spirits, apparitions, nor any manifest of the Devil. She claims as well, that none of you have seen these things either.
Now, children, this is a court of law. The law, based upon the Bible, and the Bible writ by Almighty God, forbid the practice of witchcraft, and describe death as the penalty thereof. But, likewise, children, the law and Bible damn all liars, and bearers of false witness.
Now then . . . it does not escape me that this deposition may be devised to blind us; (To Hathorne.) it may well be that Mary Warren has been conquered by Satan who sends her here to distract our sacred purpose. If so, her neck will break for it. But if she speaks true, I bid you now drop your guile and confess your pretense, for a quick confession will go easier with you.
Abigail Williams, rise. (Abigail rises slowly.) Is there any truth in this?
ABIGAIL: (A contemptuous look at
Mary.) No, sir.
DANFORTH:
Children, a very
auger bit
[a drill point]
will now be turned into your souls until your honesty is
proved. Will either of you change your positions
now, or do you force me to hard questioning?
ABIGAIL: I have naught to change,
sir. She lies.
DANFORTH: (To Mary.) You would still
go on with this?
MARY: (Faintly.) Aye, sir.
DANFORTH: (To Abigail.) A poppet
were discovered in Mister Proctor’s house, stabbed by a needle. Mary Warren
claims that you sat beside her in the court when she made it, and that you saw
her make it, and witnessed how she herself stuck her needle into it for
safe—keeping. What say you to that?
ABIGAIL: (A
slight note of indignation.) It is a lie, sir. (Mary looks at Abigail, then
back.)
DANFORTH: While you worked for
Mister Proctor, did you see poppets in that house?
ABIGAIL:
Goody Proctor always kept poppets.
PROCTOR: (Quietly.) Your Honor, my
wife never kept no poppets. Mary Warren confesses it was her poppet.
CHEEVER: Your Excellency.
DANFORTH: Mister Cheever.
CHEEVER: When I spoke with Goody
Proctor in that house, she said she never kept no poppets. But she said she did
keep poppets when she were a girl.
PROCTOR: She has not been a girl
these fifteen years, your Honor.
HATHORNE: But a poppet will keep
fifteen years, will it not?
PROCTOR: It will keep if it is kept,
but Mary Warren swears she never saw no poppets in my house, nor anywhere else.
Mister Danforth, what profit Mary Warren to turn herself about? What may she
gain but hard questioning and worse?
DANFORTH: (With astonishment.)
You are
charging Abigail Williams with a marvelous cool plot to murder, do you
understand that?
PROCTOR:
I do, sir. I believe she means to
murder.
DANFORTH: (Incredulously.)
This child would
murder your wife?
PROCTOR:
It is not a child, sir. Now hear me,
sir. In the sight of the congregation she were twice this year put out of this
meetin’ house for laughter during prayer. (Abigail bows head.)
DANFORTH: (Shocked, he turns to
Abigail.) What’s this? Laughter during . . . !
PARRIS: I . . .
do
believe it happened once—she is sometimes silly, but she is solemn now.
COREY: Ay, now she is solemn and
goes to hang people!
DANFORTH: Quiet, man . . . .
HATHORNE: Surely it have no bearing
on the question, sir.
He charges contemplation of murder.
DANFORTH: Aye . . . . (Studying
Abigail.) But it strikes hard upon me
that she will laugh at prayer. Continue, Mister Proctor.
PROCTOR: Mary.—Now tell the Governor
how you
danced in the woods.
DANFORTH: (To Mary. Shocked.) What
is this dancing?
MARY: I . . .
(She
glances at Abigail who is staring down at her remorselessly.) Mister Proctor . .
.
PROCTOR: Abigail lead the girls to
the woods, your Honor, and they have danced there naked . . . . (Hale crosses
slowly, looks at Abigail and the girls.)
PARRIS: Your Honor, this . . .
PROCTOR: Mister Parris discovered
them there in the dead of night!—there’s the “child” she is!
DANFORTH: Mister Parris . . .
PARRIS: I can only say, sir, that I
never found any of them—naked, and this man is . . .
DANFORTH: You discovered them
dancing in the woods? (Eyes on Parris, he points at Abigail.) Abigail?
HALE: Excellency, when I first
arrived from Beverly, Mister Parris told me that.
DANFORTH: Do you deny it, Mister
Parris?
PARRIS: I do not, sir, but I never
saw any of them naked.
DANFORTH: But she have danced?
PARRIS: (Unwillingly.) Aye, sir.
HATHORNE: Excellency, will you
permit me? (Points at Mary.)
DANFORTH: Pray, proceed.
HATHORNE: You say you never saw no
spirits, Mary, were never threatened or afflicted by any manifest of the Devil
or the Devil’s agents?
MARY: (Very faintly.) No, sir.
HATHORNE: And yet, when people
accused of witchery confronted you in court, you would faint, saying their
spirits came out of their bodies and choked you . . . .
MARY: That were pretense, sir.
HATHORNE: Then
can you pretend to faint now?
MARY: Now?
PARRIS: Why not? Now there are no
spirits attacking you, for none in this room is accused of witchcraft. So let
you turn yourself cold now, let you pretend you are attacked now, let you faint.
Faint!
MARY: Faint?
PARRIS: Aye, faint!
Prove to us how you pretended in the
court so many times.
MARY: (Looks to Proctor.) I . . .
cannot
faint now, sir.
PROCTOR: (Alarmed. Quietly.) Can you
not pretend it?
MARY: I . . .
I
have no sense of it now, I . . .
DANFORTH: Might it be that here we
have no afflicting spirit loose, but in the court there were some?
MARY: (Desperately.) I never saw no
spirits.
PARRIS: Your Excellency, this is a
trick to blind the court.
MARY: It’s not a trick! I . . .
I
used to faint because . . .
I .
. . I
thought I saw spirits.
DANFORTH: Thought you saw them!
MARY: But I did not, your Honor.
HATHORNE:
How could you think
you saw them unless you saw them?
MARY: I . . .
I
cannot tell you how, but I did. I . . .
I
heard the other girls screaming, and you, your Honor, you seemed to believe them
and I . . . It
were only sport in the beginning, sir, but then the whole world cried spirits,
spirits, and I . . . I
promise you, Mister Danforth, I only thought I saw them but I did not.
PARRIS: Surely your Excellency is
not taken by this simple lie.
DANFORTH: (A threat.) Abigail
Williams! (She holds her chin up.) I bid you now search your heart, and tell me
this—and beware of it, child, to God every soul is precious and His vengeance is
terrible on them that take life without cause.
Is it possible,
child, that the spirits you have seen are illusion only, some deception that may
cross your mind when . . .
ABIGAIL: (A step to him. Unafraid.)
I have been hurt, Mister Danforth; I have seen my blood runnin’ out! I have been
near to murdered every day because I done my duty pointing out the Devil’s
people—and this is my reward? To be
mistrusted, denied, questioned like a . . .
DANFORTH: (He weakens.) Child, I do
not mistrust you . . . .
ABIGAIL: (NOW it pours. She does not
wait for his speech.) Let you beware, Mister Danforth—think you to be so mighty
that the power of Hell may not turn your wits?!—beware of it! (She shivers and
looks at Mary, then folds her arms around her.)—there is . . .
DANFORTH: (Apprehensively.) What is
it, child?
ABIGAIL: (Backing away to bench and
sits. Clasping her arms about her as though cold.) I . . .
I
know not. A wind, a cold wind has come. (Her eyes fall on Mary.)
MARY: (Terrified, pleading.) Abby!
MERCY: Your Honor, I freeze!
PROCTOR: They’re pretending!
HATHORNE: (Touching Abigail’s hand.)
She is cold, your Honor, touch her!
MERCY: (Rises. A threat.) Mary, do
you send this shadow on me? (Sits slowly.)
MARY: Lord save me! (Susanna rises
looking at Mary, then slowly sits.)
ABIGAIL: (She is shivering visibly.)
I freeze—I freeze. (Mercy hugs her as
they shiver.)
MARY: (With great fear.) Abby, don’t
do that! (Proctor crosses to her, grabs her.
[<Mary])
DANFORTH: Mary Warren, do you witch
her? I say to you, do you send your spirit out!
MARY: (Almost collapsing. Putting
her in seat.) Let me go, Mister Proctor, I cannot, I cannot . . .
ABIGAIL: (Shouting.) “Oh, Heavenly
Father, take away this shadow.”
PROCTOR:
Whore! How do you dare call Heaven!
DANFORTH: Man! What do you—?
PROCTOR:
It is a whore.
ABIGAIL: Mister Danforth, he’s
lying!
PROCTOR: Mark her, now she’ll suck a
scream to stab me with, but—
DANFORTH: You will prove this, this
will not pass.
PROCTOR:
I have known her,
sir. I have . . . known
her.
DANFORTH: (A pause. His eyes stare
incredulously at Proctor.) You . . .
you
are a lecher?
NURSE: (Horrified.) John, you cannot
. . .
PROCTOR: No, Francis, it is true, it
is true. (Back to Danforth.) She will deny it, but you will believe me, sir; a
man . . . a
man will not cast away his good name, sir, you surely know that—
DANFORTH: In what time . . . ? In
was place?
PROCTOR: (Hanging head, turning
front.) In the proper place—where my beasts are bedded. Eight months now, sir,
it is eight months. She used to serve me in my house, sir. A man may think God
sleeps, but God sees everything. I know it now. I beg you, sir, I beg you—see
her for what she is. My wife, my dear good wife took this girl soon after, sir,
and put her out on the high road. And being what she is, a lump of vanity, sir .
. . . (Starts to weep.) Excellency, forgive me, forgive me. She thinks to dance
with me on my wife’s grave! And well she might!—for I thought of her softly,
God help me, I lusted, and there is a
promise in such sweat! But it is a whore’s vengeance, and you must see it; I
set myself entirely in your hands, I know you must see it now. My wife is
innocent, except she know a whore when she see one.
DANFORTH: (Turns to Abigail.) You
deny every scrap and title of this?
ABIGAIL: (Rising.) If I must answer
that, sir, I will leave and I will not come back again. (Starts for exit.)
HALE: She does not deny it, Mr.
Danforth. She does not deny it!
DANFORTH: (To Abigail.) You will
remain where you are. Sit you down! (Looking at Abigail. She stops and slowly
turns to him.) Mister Parris, go into the court and bring Goodwife Proctor out.
(Proctor crosses. Danforth is peeved at Parris.) Mister Parris. (Parris stops.)
And tell her not one word of what’s been spoken here. And let you knock before
you enter. (Parris goes out U.R.
[upper right]) Now we shall touch the bottom of this
swamp. (To Proctor.) Your wife, you say, is an honest woman?
PROCTOR: In her life, sir, she have
never lied. There are them that cannot sing, and them that cannot weep—my
wife cannot lie.
DANFORTH: Good, then. (There is a
knock at door. He calls off.) Hold! (To Abigail.) Turn your back. Turn your
back. (She does. To Proctor.) You do likewise. (Proctor turns away.) Now let
neither of you turn to face Goody Proctor. No one in this room is to speak one
word, or raise a gesture ay or nay. (He turns toward door and calls.) Enter! (
CHEEVER: Ready, sir.
DANFORTH: Come here, woman. (
DANFORTH: We are given to understand
that at one time you dismissed your servant, Abigail Williams.
DANFORTH: For what cause did you
dismiss her? (
DANFORTH: In what way dissatisfied
you?
DANFORTH: Woman, look at me! Were
she slovenly? Lazy? What disturbance did she cause?
DANFORTH: (Shouting.) Look at me!
DANFORTH: Your husband . . .
did
he indeed turn from you?
DANFORTH: Look at me! To your own
knowledge, has John Proctor ever committed the crime of lechery? (In a crisis of
indecision she cannot speak.) Answer my question! Is your husband a lecher!
DANFORTH: Remove her. (Proctor and
Abigail turn around into scene.)
PROCTOR:
DANFORTH: She has spoken. Remove
her. (Hale crosses R. following
PROCTOR: (Cries out.)
PROCTOR: She only thought to save my
name!
HALE: Excellency, it is a natural
lie to tell; I beg you, stop now; before another is condemned!
DANFORTH: She spoke nothing of
lechery, and this man lies!
HALE: (He cries out in anguish.) I
believe him! I cannot turn my face from it no more. (Pointing at Abigail.) This
girl has always struck me false! She . . .
(Abigail with a weird
cry screams up to ceiling.)
ABIGAIL:
You will not! Begone! Begone, I say!
(Mercy and Susanna rise, looking up.)
DANFORTH: What is it, child? (She is
transfixed—with all the girls, in complete silence, she is open-mouthed, agape
at ceiling, and in great fear.) Girls! Why do you . . . ?
MERCY: It’s on the beam!—behind the
rafter!
DANFORTH: (Looking up.) Where!
ABIGAIL: Why . . . ? Why do you come, yellow bird?
PROCTOR: Where’s a bird? I see no
bird! [In the first act Reverend Hale suggested that
the girls might see "an invisible bird"]
ABIGAIL:
(To ceiling, in a genuine conversation with the “bird” as
though trying to talk it out of attacking her.) My face? My face?! But God made
my face; you cannot want to tear my face. Envy is a deadly sin, Mary.
MARY: Abby!
ABIGAIL: (Unperturbed, continues to
“bird.”) Oh, Mary, this is a black art
to change your shape. No, I cannot, I cannot stop my mouth; it’s God’s work I do
. . . .
MARY: Abby, I’m here!
PROCTOR: They’re pretending, Mister
Danforth!
ABIGAIL: (Now she takes a backward
step, as though the bird would swoop down momentarily.) Oh, please, Mary!—Don’t
come down . . . .
ANN: Her claws, she’s stretching her
claws!
PROCTOR: Lies—lies—
ABIGAIL: (Backing further, still
fixed above.) Mary, please don’t hurt me!
MARY: (To Danforth.) I’m not hurting
her!
DANFORTH: Why does she see this
vision?!
MARY: (Rises.) She sees nothin’!
ABIGAIL: (As though hypnotized,
mimicking the exact tone of Mary’s cry.) She sees nothin’!
MARY: Abby, you mustn’t!
ABIGAIL: (Now
all girls join, transfixed.) Abby, you
mustn’t!
MARY: (To all girls, frantically.)
I’m here, I’m here!
GIRLS: I’m here, I’m here!
DANFORTH: Mary Warren!—Draw back
your spirit out of them!
MARY: Mister Danforth . . . !
GIRLS: Mister Danforth!
DANFORTH: Have you compacted with
the Devil? Have you?
MARY: Never, never!
GIRLS: Never, never!
DANFORTH: (Growing hysterical.)
Why can they
only repeat you?!
PROCTOR: Give me a whip—I’ll stop it!
MARY: They’re sporting . . . !
GIRLS: (Cutting her off.) They’re
sporting!
MARY: (Turning on them all,
hysterically and stamping her feet.) Abby, stop it!
GIRLS: (Stamping their feet.) Abby,
stop it!
MARY: (Screaming it out at top of
her lungs, and raising her fists.) Stop it!!
GIRLS: (All raising their fists.)
Stop it!!
(Mary, utterly
confounded, and becoming overwhelmed by Abigail—and the girls’—utter conviction,
starts to whimper, hands half raised, powerless—and all girls begin whimpering
exactly as she does.)
DANFORTH: A little while ago you
were afflicted. Now it seems you afflict others; where did you find this power?
MARY: (Staring at Abigail.)
I . . .
have
no power.
GIRLS: I have no power.
PROCTOR: They’re gulling you,
Mister!
DANFORTH: Why did you turn about
this past two weeks? You have seen the Devil, have you not?
PROCTOR: (Seeing her weakening.)
Mary, Mary, God damns all liars! (Mary utters something unintelligible, staring
at Abigail who keeps watching the “bird” above.)
DANFORTH: I cannot hear you. What do
you say? (Mary utters again unintelligibly.) You will confess yourself or you
will hang!
PROCTOR: Mary, remember the angel
Raphael . . . do
that which is good and . . .
ABIGAIL: (Pointing upward.) The
wings! Her wings are spreading! Mary, please, don’t, don’t . . . ! She’s going
to come down! She’s walking the beam! Look out! She’s coming down!
(All scream. Abigail dashes across the stage as though pursued, the other girls streak hysterically in and out between the men, all converging.—and as their screaming subsides only Mary Warren’s is left. All watch her, struck, even horrified by this evident fit.)
PROCTOR: (Leaning across the table,
turning her gently by the arm.) Mary, tell the Governor what they . . .
MARY: (Backing away.) Don’t touch me
. . . don’t
touch me!
PROCTOR: Mary!
MARY:
(Pointing at Proctor.) You are the
Devil’s man!
PARRIS: Praise God!
PROCTOR: Mary, how . . . ?
MARY: I’ll not hang with you! I love
God, I love God—
DANFORTH: (To Mary.) He bid you do
the Devil’s work?
MARY: (Hysterically, indicating
Proctor.) He
come at me by night and every day to sign, to sign, to . . .
DANFORTH: Sign what?
PARRIS: The Devil’s book? He come
with a book?
MARY: (Hysterically, pointing at
Proctor.) My name, he want my name; I’ll
murder you, he says, if my wife hangs! We must go and overthrow the court,
he says . . . !
PROCTOR: (Eyes follow Mary.) Mister
Hale . . . !
MARY: (Her sobs beginning.)
He wake me every
night, his eyes were like coals and his fingers claw my neck, and I sign, I sign
. . . .
HALE: Excellency, the child’s gone
wild.
PROCTOR: Mary, Mary . . . !
MARY: (Screaming at him.) No, I love
God; I go your way no more, (Looking at Abigail.) I love God, I bless God . . .
. (Sobbing, she rushes to Abigail.)
Abby, Abby, I’ll never hurt you more! (All watch, as Abigail reaches out and
draws sobbing Mary to her, then looks up to Danforth.)
DANFORTH: What are you! You are
combined with
anti-Christ, are
you not? I have seen your power, Mister, you will not deny it!
HALE: This is
not witchcraft! Those girls are frauds!
You condemn an honest man!
DANFORTH: I will have nothing from
you, Mister Hale! (To Proctor.) Will you confess yourself befouled with hell, or
do you keep that black allegiance yet?
What say you?
PROCTOR: I say . . .
God
is dead! [This
phrase, associated with the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900)
became popular in theological discussions in mid-20c
PARRIS: (Crossing L. toward door.) Hear it, hear it!
PROCTOR: A fire, a fire is burning!
I hear the boot of Lucifer, I see his filthy face. And it is my face and yours,
Danforth.
For them that quail now when you know in all your black hearts that this be
fraud. God damns our kind especially, and we will burn, we will burn together!
DANFORTH: Marshal, take him and
Corey with him to the jail!
HALE: (Crossing D.L.) I denounce
these proceedings! I quit this court! (Hale EXITS.)
PROCTOR: You are pulling heaven down
and raising up a whore.
DANFORTH: (Shocked.) Mister Hale,
Mister Hale!
CURTAIN
ACT II: Scene 3
Three months later.
A cell in
WILLARD: (At bench L.) Good morning, Majesty.
DANFORTH: Where is Mister Parris?
WILLARD: I’ll fetch him.
DANFORTH: Marshal. When did Reverend
Hale arrive?
WILLARD: It were toward midnight, I
think.
DANFORTH: (Suspiciously.) What is he
about here?
WILLARD: He goes among them that
will hang, sir. And he prays with them. He sits with Goody Nurse now. (Crossing
to R. bench, clears straw from it.) And Mister Parris with him.
DANFORTH: Indeed. That man have no
authority to enter here, Marshal; why have you let him in? (Hathorne sits bench
L.)
WILLARD: Why, Mister Parris command
me, sir. I cannot deny him.
DANFORTH: Fetch Mister Parris.
WILLARD: Aye, sir. (Exits.)
HATHORNE: Let you question Hale,
Excellency; I should not be surprised he have been preachin’ in
DANFORTH: We’ll come to that; speak
nothin’ of
HATHORNE: I think sometimes Parris
has a mad look these days. (Danforth raises his head as Parris enters. He is
gaunt, frightened and sweating.)
PARRIS: (To Danforth, instantly.)
Oh, good morning, sir, thank you for comin’. I beg your pardon wakin’ you so
early. Good morning, Judge Hathorne . . . .
DANFORTH: Reverend Hale have no
right to enter this . . .
PARRIS: Excellency, a moment.
HATHORNE: Do you leave him alone
with the prisoners?
DANFORTH: What’s his business here?
PARRIS: (Prayerfully holding up his
hands.) Excellency, hear me. It is a providence.
Reverend Hale has
returned to bring Rebecca Nurse to God.
DANFORTH: He bids her confess?
PARRIS: (Sitting.) Hear me. (Cheever
crosses, sits at end of bench.) Rebecca have not given me a word this three
months since she came. Now she sits with him, and her sister and Martha Corey
and two or three others, and he pleads with them confess their crimes and save
their lives.
DANFORTH: Why—this is indeed a
providence. And they soften, they soften?
PARRIS: Not yet, not yet. But I
thought to summon you, sir, that we might think on whether it be not wise to . .
. there
is news, sir, that the court, the court must reckon with. My niece . . .
I
believe she has vanished.
DANFORTH: Vanished! (Hathorne
rises.)
PARRIS: I had thought to advise you
of it earlier in the week, but . . .
DANFORTH: Why?—how long is she gone?
PARRIS: This be the third night—Mercy
Lewis is gone, too.
DANFORTH: (Alarmed.) I shall send a
party for them. Where may they be?
PARRIS: Excellency,
I think they be aboard a ship. My daughter tells me now she hears them speakin’
of ships last week, and tonight I discover my . . .
my
strongbox is broken into.
HATHORNE: (Astonished.) She have
robbed you?!
PARRIS:
Thirty-one pound is
gone. I am penniless.
DANFORTH: (Rising.) Mister Parris,
you are a brainless man!
PARRIS: Excellency, it profit
nothing you should blame me.
I cannot think they would run off except they fear to keep
in
DANFORTH: (Strongly protesting.)
There is no rebellion in
PARRIS: I tell you
what is said here, sir. Andover have
thrown out the court, they say, and
will have no part of witchcraft. There be a faction here feeding on that
news, and I tell you true, sir, I fear there will be riot here.
HATHORNE: Riot!—Why,
at every execution I have seen naught
but high satisfaction in the town.
PARRIS: Judge Hathorne—it
were another sort that hanged till now. Rebecca Nurse is no Bridget that
lived three year with Bishop before she married him. John Proctor is not Isaac
Ward that drank his family to ruin. (To Danforth.) Let Rebecca stand upon the
gibbet and send up some righteous prayer, and I feel she’ll wake a vengeance on
you.
DANFORTH: How do you propose, then?
PARRIS: Excellency . . .
I
would postpone these hangin’s for a time.
DANFORTH: There will be no
postponement.
PARRIS: Now Mister Hale’s returned,
there is hope, I think—for if he bring even one of these to God, that confession
surely damns the others in the public eye, and none may doubt more that they are
all linked to Hell. This way, unconfessed and claiming innocence, doubts are
multiplied, many honest people will weep for them, and our good purpose is lost
in their tears.
DANFORTH: Cheever, give me the list.
(Cheever opens dispatch case, searches.)
PARRIS: It cannot be forgot, sir,
(Danforth rises, gets list from Cheever, takes spectacles out and reads by light
of lamp.) that when I summoned the congregation for John Proctor’s
excommunication, there were hardly thirty people come to hear it. That speak a
discontent, I think, and . . .
DANFORTH: There will be no
postponement.
PARRIS: Excellency . . .
DANFORTH: Now, sir—which of these in
your opinion may be brought to God? I will myself strive with him till dawn.
(Crosses to Cheever, hands him list.)
PARRIS: (In a quavering voice,
quietly.) Excellency . . .
a
dagger . . . (He
chokes up.)
DANFORTH: (Irritated.) What do you
say?
PARRIS: Tonight, when I open my door
to leave my house—a dagger clattered to the ground. You cannot hang this sort.
There is danger for me. I dare not step outside at night.
(Hale ENTERS. They look at him for an instant in silence. He is steeped in sorrow, exhausted, and more direct than he ever was.)
DANFORTH: Accept my congratulations,
Reverend Hale; we are gladdened to see you returned to your good work.
HALE: You must pardon them. They
will not budge. The sun will rise in a few minutes. Excellency, I must have more
time.
DANFORTH: Now hear me, and beguile
[distract]
yourselves no more. I will not receive a single plea for
pardon or postponement. Them that will
not confess will hang. Twelve are already executed; the names of these seven
are given out, and the village expects to see them die at dawn.
Postponement, now,
speaks a . . . a
floundering (Willard ENTERS.) on my part;
reprieve or pardon must cast doubt upon
the guilt of them that died till now.—Have you spoken with them all, Mister
Hale?
HALE: All but
Proctor. He is in the dungeon.
DANFORTH: (To Hathorne.) What’s
Proctor’s way now? (Hale sits on bench.)
WILLARD: (In doorway. Drunkenly.) He
sits like some great bird; you’d not know he lived except he will take food from
time to time.
DANFORTH: (Thinks.) His wife . . .
his
wife must be well on with child now.
WILLARD: She is, sir.
DANFORTH: What think you, Mister
Parris?—You have closer knowledge of this man; might her presence soften him?
PARRIS: It is possible, sir—he have
not laid eyes on her these three months. I should summon her.
DANFORTH: (To Willard.) Fetch Goody
Proctor to me. Then let you bring him up. (Sits
WILLARD: Ay, sir. (Willard goes out.
Silence.)
HALE: Excellency, if you postpone a
week, and publish to the town that you are striving for their confessions,
that speak
mercy on your part, not faltering.
DANFORTH: Mister Hale, as God have
not empowered me like Joshua to stop this sun from rising, so I cannot withhold
from them the perfection of their punishment.
HALE: (Rising, crossing up to door.)
If you think God wills you to raise rebellion, Mister Danforth, you are
mistaken.
DANFORTH: You have heard rebellion
spoken in
HALE: Excellency, there are
orphans wandering from house to house;
abandoned cattle below on the highroads, the stink of rotting crops hang
everywhere, and no man knows when the harlots’ cry will end his life—and you
wonder yet if rebellion’s spoke? Better you should marvel how they do not burn
your province!
DANFORTH: Mister Hale, have you
preached in
HALE: Thank God they have no need of
me in
DANFORTH: You baffle me, sir.
Why have you
returned here?
HALE: Why, it is all simple. I come to do the Devil’s work.
I come to counsel Christians they should belie themselves.
There is blood on my head! Can you not see the blood on my head!!
PARRIS: Hush! (All face entrance.
Willard and Elizabeth ENTER. Willard goes out again.)
DANFORTH: (Very politely.) Goody
Proctor. I hope you are hearty?
DANFORTH: Pray, be at your ease, we
come not for your life. We . . .
(Uncertain
how to plead, for he is not accustomed to it.) Mister Hale, will you speak with
the woman?
HALE: Goody Proctor, your husband is
marked to hang this morning.
HALE: (He finds it difficult to look
at her.) You know, do you not, that I have no connection with the court? I come
of my own, Goody Proctor. (She knows this to be untrue.) I would save your
husband’s life, for if he is taken I count myself his murderer. Do you
understand me?
HALE: Goody Proctor . . .
I
have gone this three month like our Lord into the wilderness. I have sought a
Christian way, for damnation’s doubled on
a minister who
counsels men to lie.
HATHORNE: It is no lie, you cannot
speak of lies . . . .
HALE: It is a lie!—they are
innocent!
DANFORTH: No more. No more. I’ll
hear no more of that.
HALE: (To
DANFORTH: (Irritated.) Goody
Proctor, you are not summoned here for disputation—be there no wifely tenderness
within you? He will die with the sunrise. Your husband. Do you understand it?
What say you? Will you contend with him? (She is silent.) Take her out—it profit
nothing she should speak to him!
DANFORTH: Will you plead for his
confession, or will you not!
(A sound—the sibilance
[scraping sound]
of dragging feet on stone. They turn. Pause. Willard enters
with Proctor. His wrists are chained. Willard removes them and exits. He is
another man, bearded, filthy, his eyes misty as webs had overgrown them. Halts
inside doorway, his eye caught by the sight of
HALE: Pray, leave them, Excellency.
(Exits.)
DANFORTH: (Parris and Cheever rise.)
I see light in the sky, Mister; let you counsel with your wife and may God help
you turn your back on hell.
(Proctor is silent, staring at
PROCTOR: (Feeling his wrists.) Aye.
The child?
PROCTOR: You are a . . .
marvel,
PROCTOR: None . . .
have
yet confessed?
PROCTOR: Rebecca . . . ?
PROCTOR: And Giles?
PROCTOR: (He looks at her
incredulously.) When were he hanged?
PROCTOR: (Not looking at her.) Then
how does he die?
PROCTOR: (Looking at her.) Press?
PROCTOR: (Nodding, smiling grimly in
admiration.) More weight!
PROCTOR: (With a shy smile.
(She shows nothing. He takes her hand, pulls her down to bench, not looking at her.)
What would you have me do?
PROCTOR: (Taking his hand away from
her.) It is a pretense,
PROCTOR: (Trying to convince
himself.) I cannot mount the gibbet like
a saint. It is a fraud. I am not that man.
(She is silent.)
My honesty is broke,
PROCTOR: (Bitterly smiling.) Spite.
Spite only keeps me silent. It is
hard to give a lie to dogs! (He takes her hand, holds it.) I would have your
forgiveness,
(He bows his head.)
Only be sure of this, for I know it now: Whatever you will do, it is a good man does it.
(Hathorne enters.)
HATHORNE: What say you, Proctor? The
sun is soon up. (Proctor lifts his head.)
PROCTOR: I want my life.
HATHORNE: You’ll confess yourself?!
PROCTOR: I will have my lie.
HATHORNE: God be praised!—It is a
providence! (Hathorne rushes out door, his voice is heard calling offstage.) He
will confess! Proctor will confess!
PROCTOR: (With a cry, rising.) Why
do you cry it! It is evil, is it not? It is evil.
PROCTOR:
Then who will judge me? God in Heaven,
what is John Proctor, what is John Proctor! (A fury is riding in him, a
tantalized search.) I think it is honest, I thnk so: I am no saint. Let Rebecca
go like a saint, for me it is fraud!
PROCTOR: Would you give them such a
lie? Say it. Would you ever give them this? (She can’t answer.) You would not;
if tongs of fire were singeing you, you would not! – it is evil.
(Slight pause. Sitting.)
Good then, it is evil, and I do it.
(Hathorne enters with Danforth, and with them Cheever, Parris and Hale. It is a business-like, rapid entrance, as though the ice had been broken.)
DANFORTH: Praise to God, man, you
shall be blessed in Heaven for this. (Cheever hurries to prepare to write.) Now
then, let us have it. Are you ready, Mister Cheever?
PROCTOR: Why must it be written?
DANFORTH: Why, for the good
instruction of the village, Mister; this we shall post upon the church door!
Now, then, Mister, will you speak slowly, and directly to the point for Mister
Cheever’s sake? Mister Proctor, have you seen the Devil in your life? Come, man,
there is light in the sky; the town waits at the scaffold, I would give out this
news. Did
you see the devil?
PROCTOR: (Looks at him, then away, and speaks.) I did.
PARRIS: Praise God!
DANFORTH: And when he come to you,
what were his demand? Did he bid you to do his work upon the earth?
PROCTOR: He did.
DANFORTH: And you bound yourself to
his service (Danforth turns, as Rebecca and Willard enter.) Ah, Rebecca Nurse. –
Come in, come in, woman.
REBECCA: Ah, John! You are well,
then , eh?
DANFORTH: Courage, man, courage—let
her witness your good example that she may come to God herself. Now hear it,
Goody Nurse! Say on,
Mister Proctor—did you bind yourself to the Devil’s
service?
REBECCA: Why, John!
PROCTOR: (Face turned from Rebecca.)
I did.
DANFORTH: Now, woman, you surely see
it profit nothin’ to keep this conspiracy any further. Will you confess yourself
with him?
REBECCA: Oh, John—God send His mercy
on you!
PROCTOR: Take her out!
DANFORTH: I say will you confess
yourself, Goody Nurse!
REBECCA: Why, it is lie, it is a
lie; how may I damn myself? I cannot.
DANFORTH: Mister Proctor.
When the Devil came to you did you see
Rebecca Nurse in his company? Come, man, take courage—did you ever see her
with the Devil?
PROCTOR: (Almost inaudibly, in
agony.) No. (Rebecca takes a step toward him.)
DANFORTH: Did you ever see anyone
with the devil?
PROCTOR: I did not.
DANFORTH: Proctor, you mistake me. I
am not empowered to trade your life for a lie. You have most certainly seen some
person with the Devil.
Mister Proctor, a score of people have already testified
they saw this woman with the devil . . .
PROCTOR: I speak my own sins, I cannot judge another.
HALE: Excellency, it is enough he
confess himself.
Let him sign it.
PARRIS: It is a great service,
sir—it is a weighty name, it will strike the village that he confess. I beg you,
let him sign it. The sun is up, Excellency!
DANFORTH: Come then,
sign your testimony.
PROCTOR: You have all witnessed
it—it is enough.
DANFORTH: You will not sign it?
PROCTOR: You have all witnessed it;
what more is needed?
DANFORTH: Do you sport with me? You
will sign your name or it is no confession, Mister! (Proctor signs) Your second
name, man (Proctor signs his last name.)
PARRIS: Praise be to the Lord!
DANFORTH: (Perplexed, but politely
extending his hand.) If you please, sir.
PROCTOR: (Dumbly, looking at paper.)
No.
DANFORTH: Mister Proctor, I must
have . . .
PROCTOR: (Putting paper behind him.
Childishly befuddled.) No—no I have signed it. You have seen me. It is done! You
have no need for this.
PARRIS: Proctor, the village must
have proof that . . .
PROCTOR: Damn the village! I confess
to God and God has seen my name on this! It is enough!
DANFORTH: No, sir, it is . . .
PROCTOR: You came to save my soul,
did you not? Here—I have confessed myself, it is enough!
DANFORTH: You have not con . . .
PROCTOR: I have confessed myself! Is
there no good penitence but it be public? God does not need my name nailed upon
the church!
God sees my name, God knows how black my sins are! It is enough.
DANFORTH: Mister Proctor . . .
PROCTOR:
You will not use
me! I am no Sarah Good or Tituba, I am John Proctor! You will not use me!
DANFORTH: I do not wish to . . .
PROCTOR: I have three children—how
may I teach them to walk like men in the world and
[if ]
I sold my friends?
DANFORTH: You have not sold your
friends . . .
PROCTOR: I blacken all of them when
this is nailed to the church the very day they hang for silence!
DANFORTH: Mister Proctor, I must
have good and legal proof that you . . .
PROCTOR: You are the high court,
your word is good enough! Tell them I confessed myself, say Proctor broke
[bent]
his knees and
wept like a woman,
say what you will, but my name cannot . . .
DANFORTH: (With suspicion) It is the
same, is it not? If I report it or you sign to it?
PROCTOR: No, it is not the same!
What others
say and what I sign to is not the same!
DANFORTH: Why? Do you mean to deny
this confession when you are free?
PROCTOR: I mean to deny nothing!
DANFORTH: Then explain to me, Mr.
Proctor, why you will not let . . .
PROCTOR: Because it is my name!
Because I cannot have another in my life. Because I am not worth the dust on the
feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name?
I have given you my
soul, leave me my name!
DANFORTH: Is that document a lie? If
it is a lie I will not accept it! You will give me your honest confession in my
hand, or I cannot keep you from the rope.
PARRIS: Proctor, Proctor!
HALE: Man, you will hang—you cannot!
PROCTOR: (Crossing slowly to
Give
them no tear. Show them a heart of stone and sink them with it.
REBECCA: Let you fear nothing. There
is another judgment waits us all.
DANFORTH: Whoever weeps for these
weeps for corruption. Take them!
PARRIS: Go to him. (Drum roll off
[off-stage].)
Goody Proctor! There is yet time! (Parris runs out as though to hold back his
fate.) Proctor! Proctor! (
HALE: Woman, plead with him! (Drum
roll.
THE
