_Giles._ Make sure they be strong, else it will verily go hard with the hussies. They will screech louder yet, and be more like pin-cushions than ever. Art sure they be strong? 'Twere a pity such guileless and tender maids should suffer, and old Giles Corey's hands be rough. He hath hewn wood and handled the plough for nigh eighty years with them, and now these pretty maids say he hurts their soft flesh. In truth, they must be sore afflicted. Prithee are the chains well riveted? I thought last night one link seemed somewhat loose as though it might be forced, and old Giles Corey hath still some strength; and hath he witchcraft, as they say, it might well make him stronger. Be wary about the chains for the sake of those godly and tender maids. [_Exit_ Guard. Giles _takes the dish of porridge and eats._ _Giles_ (_making a wry face_). This be rare porridge; it be rare enough to charge the cook on't with witchcraft. It might well have been scorched in some hell-fire. I trow Martha would have flung it to the pigs. I verily thought 'twas Martha calling me to supper, and I smelt the good food cooking, and Martha hung a month since on Gallows Hill. Who's that at the door now? Guard _opens the door and_ Paul Bayley _enters._ Giles _takes another spoonful of porridge._ _Paul._ Good-day, Goodman Corey. _Giles._ Taste this porridge, will ye. _Paul_ (_tastes the porridge_). 'Tis burned. _Giles._ It be rare food to keep up the soul of an old man who hath set himself to undergo what I have set myself to undergo. But it matters not. I trow old Giles Corey may well have eat all his life unknowingly to this end, and hath now somewhat of strength to fall back upon. He needs no dainty fare to make him strong to undergo what he hath set himself. How fares my daughter? _Paul._ As well as she can fare, poor lass! I saw her last evening. She is now calmer in her mind, and she goeth about the house like her mother. _Giles._ Her mother set great store by her. She would often strive in prayer that she should not make an idol of her before the Lord. _Paul._ Goodman, it goes hard to tell you, but I had an audience yesterday again with Governor Phipps, an' 'twas in vain. _Giles_ (_laughing_). In vain, say ye 'twas in vain? Why, I looked to see the pardon sticking out of your waistcoat pocket! Why went ye again to Boston? Know ye not that this whole land is now a bedlam, and the Governors and the magistrates swell the ravings? Seek ye in bedlam for justice of madmen? It is not now pardon or justice that we have to think on, but death, and the best that can be made out on't. Know ye that my trial will be held this afternoon? _Paul._ Yes, Goodman Corey. _Giles._ Sit ye down on this stool. I have much I would say to ye. [Paul _seats himself on a stool._ Giles _sits on his bed._ _Giles._ Master Bayley, ye have been long a-courting my daughter. Do ye propose in good faith to take her to wife? _Paul._ With the best faith that be in me.