Giles Corey, Yeoman | Page 7

Corey's looks be aught in comparison with my Ann's, but I trow Goody Corey hath arts which make amends for lack of beauty. I trow all ill-favored folk might be fair would they have such arts used upon them.
Hathorne. What mean you by that saying?
Hutchins. I mean Goody Corey hath devilish arts whereby she giveth her daughter a beauty beyond her own looks, wherewith she may entice young men.
Hathorne. You say that this cape caused your daughter torment?
Hutchins. Your worships, it lay on her neck like a fire-brand, and she thought she should die ere she cast it off.
Hathorne. Widow Hutchins, will you now put on the cape?
Hutchins. Oh, your worship, I dare not put it on! I fear it will be the death of me if I do.
Hathorne. Minister Parris, wilt thou put on the cape?
Parris. Good Master Hathorne, it would ill behoove a minister of the gospel to put himself in jeopardy when so many be depending upon him to lead them in this dreadful conflict with the powers of darkness. But do thou put on the mantle the while I go to prayer to avert any ill that may come of it.
Hathorne. Nay, I will make no such jest of my office of magistrate as to put this woman's gear on my shoulders. I doubt if there be aught in it. Prithee, Widow Hutchins, when did this torment first come upon the young woman?
Hutchins. Your worship, she went, as I have said, to Goody Corey's yester-evening to have a little chat with her gossip, Olive, and Paul Bayley came in also, and some of them did talk strangely about this witchcraft, Olive and Goody Corey nodding and winking, and making light of it. And then when Ann said she must be home, Paul rose quickly and made as though he would go with her, but Goody Corey would not let him, and herself went with Ann. And she did practise her devilish arts upon my poor child all the way home, and when my poor child got on the door-stone she burst open the door, and came in as though all the witches were after her, and she hath not been herself since. She hath ever since been grievously tormented, being set upon now by Goody Corey, and now by Olive, being choked and twisted about until I thought she would die, and so I fear she will, unless they be speedily put in chains. It seemeth flesh and blood cannot endure it. Mercy Lewis is just come in, and she saw Goody Corey and Olive upon her when she opened the door.
Hathorne. This evil work must be stopped at all hazards, and this monstrous brood of witches gotten out of the land.
Parris. Yea, verily, although we have to reach under the covenant for them. [Screams.
Hutchins. Oh, your worships, my poor child will have no peace until they be chained in prison.
Hathorne. They shall be chained in prison before the sun sets. I will at once go forth and issue warrants for the arrest of Martha Corey and her daughter. [_More violent screams and loud voices overhead._
Parris. Would it not be well, good Master Hathorne, for us to see the afflicted maid before we depart?
Hutchins. Oh, I pray you, sirs, come up stairs to my poor child's chamber and see yourselves in what grievous torment she lies. She hath often called for Minister Parris, saying they dared not so afflict her were he there.
Hathorne. It would perchance be as well. Lead the way, if you will, Widow Hutchins. [Exeunt. Screams continue.
Enter Nancy Fox and Phoebe Morse stealthily from other door. Phoebe carries her rag doll.
Nancy. Massy sakes, hear them screeches!
Phoebe (clinging to Nancy). Oh, Nancy, won't they catch us too! I'm afraid!
Nancy. They can't touch us; we're witches too.
Phoebe. Massy sakes! I forgot we were witches.
Nancy. Hear that, will ye? Ain't she a-ketchin' it?
Phoebe. Nancy, do you suppose it's the pin I stuck in my doll makes Ann screech that way?
Nancy. Most likely 'tis. Stick in another, and see if she screeches louder.
Phoebe. No, I won't. I'll pull the pin out; 'twas this one in my doll's arm. (Pulls out pin and flings it on the floor.) I won't have Ann hurt so bad as that if Olive did give her the cape. Why don't she stop screeching now, Nancy? Oh, Nancy, somebody's coming! I hear somebody at the door. Crawl under the bed--quick! quick!
[Phoebe gets down and begins to crawl under the bed. Nancy _tries to imitate her, but cannot bend herself._
Nancy. Oh, massy! I've got a crick in my back, and I can't double up. What shall I do? (Tries to bend.) I can't; no, I can't! 'Tis like a hot poker. Massy! what 'll I do?
Phoebe. You've got to, Nancy. Quick! the latch is