Giles Corey, Yeoman | Page 6

'Twas of a dark witch, and the wizard her son. A dark witch was she, and a dark wizard he, With yellow birds singing so gay and so free. To my down, down, down, derry down.
"The clock was a-striking, a-striking of one. The witches came out, and the dancing begun. They courtesied so fine, and they drank the red wine-- The wizards were three and the witches were nine. To my down, down, down, derry down.
"Halloo, the gay dancers! Halloo, I was one; The goody that prayed and the maiden that spun! The yellow birds chirped in the boughs overhead, And fast through the bushes the black dog sped. To my down, down, down, derry down." [A noise is heard. Phoebe jumps down from the table.
Phoebe. Oh, Nancy, something's coming! Run, run quick, or it 'll catch us! [Both run out. Curtain falls.

Act II.
Best room in the house of Widow Eunice Hutchins, Ann's mother. John Hathorne and Minister Parris enter, shown in by Widow Hutchins.
Hutchins. I pray you, sirs, to take some cheers the while I go for a moment's space to my poor afflicted child. I heard her cry out but now. [Exit.
[Hathorne and Parris seat themselves, but Hathorne _quickly springs up, and begins walking._
Hathorne. I cannot be seated in this crisis. I would as lief be seated in an onset of the savages. I must up and lay about me. We have heretofore been too lax in this dreadful business; the powers of darkness be almost over our palisades. I tell thee there must be more action!
Parris (pounding with his cane). Yea, Master Hathorne, I am with thee. Verily, this last be enough to make the elect themselves quake with fear. This Martha Corey is a woman of the covenant.
Hathorne. There must be no holding back. The powers of darkness be let loose amongst us, and they that be against them must be up. We must hang, hang, hang, till we overcome!
Parris. Yea, we must not falter, though all the woods of Massachusetts Bay be cut for gallows-trees, and the country be like Sodom. Verily, Satan hath manifested himself at the head of our enemies; the colonies were never in such peril as now. We must strive as never before, or all will be lost. The wilderness full of malignant savages, who be the veritable servants of Satan, closes us in, and the cloven footmark is in our midst. There must be no dallying as we would save the colonies. Widow Hutchins saith her daughter is grievously pressed. (A scream.) There, heard you that?
Hathorne. It is dreadful, dreadful, that an innocent maid should be so tormented by acts which her guileless fancy could never compass!
Parris. Verily, malignity hath ever cowardice in conjunction with it. Satan loveth best to afflict those who can make no defence, and fastens his talons first in the lambs.
Enter Widow Hutchins with the embroidered cape.
Hutchins. Here, your worships, is the cape.
Hathorne (examines it). I have seen women folk wear its like on the Sabbath day. I can see naught unwonted about it.
Parris. It looketh like any cape.
Hutchins. I fear it be not like any cape. Had your worships seen my poor child writhe under it, and I myself, when I would try it on, bent down to my knees as under a ton weight, your worships would not think it like any cape.
Parris. I suspect there be verily evil work in the cape, and a witch's bodkin hath pierced these cunning eyelets. It goeth so fast now that erelong every guileless, senseless thing in our houses, down to the tinder-box and the candle-stick, will find hinges and turn into a gate, whereby witchcraft can enter. You say, Widow Hutchins, that Olive Corey gave this cape to your daughter?
Hutchins. That did she. Yesterday evening Ann went down to Goody Corey's house for a little chat; she and Olive have been gossips ever since they were children, though lately there hath been somewhat of bitterness betwixt them.
Parris. How mean you?
Hutchins. I have laid it upon my mind ere now to tell you, being much wrought up concerning it, and thinking that you might give me somewhat of spiritual consolation and advice. It was in this wise. Paul Bayley, who, they say, goeth every Sabbath night to Goody Corey's house and sitteth up until unseemly hours with Olive, looked once with a favorable eye upon my daughter Ann. Had your worships seen him, as I saw him one day in the meeting-house, look at Ann when she wore her green paduasoy, you had not doubted. Youths look not thus upon maidens unless they be inclined toward them. But this hussy Olive Corey did come between Paul and my Ann, and that not of her own merits. There is nobody in Salem Village who would say that Olive