Giles Corey, Yeoman | Page 8

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 lifting. Quick! quick!
I'll push you. No; I'll pull you. Here!

[Pulls Nancy _down upon the floor, and rolls her under the bed; gets
under herself just as the door is pushed open._
Enter Giles Corey in great excitement.
Giles (_running across the room, and listening at the door leading to the
chamber stairs_). Devil take them! why don't they put an end to it?
Why do they let the poor lass be set upon this way? Screeching so you
can hear her all over Salem Village! There! hear that, will ye? Out upon
them! Widow Hutchins! Widow Hutchins! Can't you give her some
physic? Sha'n't I come up there with my musket? Why don't they find
out who is so tormenting her and chain her up in prison? 'Tis some
witch or other. Oh, I'd hang her; I'd tie the rope myself. Poor lass! poor
lass! [The door is pushed open, and Giles starts back.
Enter John Hathorne, Minister Parris, and Widow Hutchins.
Giles. Good-day, Widow Hutchins. Shall I go up there with my
musket?
Parris. I trow there be too many of thy household up there now.
Giles. I'd lay about me till I hit some of 'em. I'll warrant I would. Oh,
the poor lass! hear that!
Parris. She is a grievous case.
Giles. I heard the screeches out in the wood, and I ran in thinking I
might do somewhat. I would Martha were here. I'll be bound she'd
laugh and scoff at it no longer!
Hathorne. Laugh and scoff, say you?
Giles. That she doth. Martha acts as if the devil were in her about it.
She doth nothing but laugh at and make light of the afflicted children,
and saith there be no witches. She would not even believe 'twas aught
out of the common when our ox and cat were took strangely. If she
were herself a witch she could be no more stiff-necked.

Parris. Doth she go out after nightfall?
Giles. That she doth, in spite of all I can say. She hath no fear that an
honest gospel woman should have in these times. She went out last
night, and I was so angered that I charged her with galloping a
broomstick home.
Hathorne. Did she deny it?
Giles. She laughed as she is wont to do. She even made a jest on't,
when I could not when I would go to prayer, and the words stayed
beyond my wits. I would she could be here now, and hear this!
Parris. Perchance she doth.
Giles. I'll warrant she'd lose somewhat of her stiff-neckedness. Hear
that! Can't ye chain up the witch that's tormenting the poor lass! Is't
Goody Osborn?
Hathorne. The witch will be chained and in prison before nightfall.
Come, Minister Parris, we can do no good by abiding longer here.
Methinks we have sufficient testimony.
Parris. Verily the devil hath played into our hands. [_They turn to
leave._
Hutchins. Oh, your worships, ye will use good speed for the sake of my
poor child.
Giles. Ay, be speedy about it. Put the baggage in prison as soon as may
be, and load her down well with irons.
Hathorne. I will