_Phoebe._ This pin be for Uncle Corey, and this pin be for Olive, and this pin for Aunt Corey, and this pin for Aunt Corey, and this pin for Aunt Corey. Pins! pins!! pins!!! (_Dances._) In truth, Nancy, 'tis rare sport being a witch; but I stuck not in the pins very far, lest they be too sorely hurt. _Nancy._ Is there any other whom you desire to afflict? _Phoebe._ I fear I know not any other who has angered me, and I could weep for 't. Stay! I'll afflict Ann, because she hath the cape; and I'll afflict Paul Bayley, because I'm drove forth from the fore room Sabbath nights when he comes a-courting; and I'll afflict Minister Parris, because he put me too hard a question from the catechism; that makes three more. Oh, 'tis rare sport! (_Seizes the doll and sticks in three pins._) This pin be for Ann, this pin be for Paul, and this pin be for Minister Parris. Deary me, I can think of no more! What next, Nancy? _Nancy._ I'll do some witchcraft now. I desire to afflict your aunt Corey, because she doth drive me hither and thither like a child, and sets no value on my understanding; Olive, because she made a jest of me; and Goody Bishop, because she hath a fine silk hood. _Phoebe._ Here is the doll, Nancy. _Nancy._ Nay, I have another way, which you be too young to understand. [Nancy _takes the candle, goes to the fireplace, and courtesies three times, looking up the chimney._ _Nancy._ Hey, black cat! hey, my pretty black cat! Go ye and sit on Goody Corey's breast, and claw her if she stirs. Do as I bid ye, my pretty black cat, and I'll sign the book. _Phoebe._ Oh, Nancy, I hear the black cat yawl! _Nancy_ (_after courtesying three times_). Hey, black dog! hey, my pretty black dog! Go ye and howl in Mistress Olive's ear, so she be frighted in her dreams, and so get a little bitter with the sweet. Do as I bid ye, my pretty black dog, and I'll sign the book. _Phoebe._ Oh, Nancy, I hear the black dog howl! _Nancy_ (_after courtesying three times_). Hey, yellow bird! hey, my pretty yellow bird! Go ye and peck at Goody Bishop's fine silk hood and tear it to bits. Do as I bid ye, my pretty yellow bird, and I'll sign the book. _Phoebe._ Oh, Nancy, I hear the yellow bird twitter up chimbly! _Nancy._ 'Tis rare witchcraft. _Phoebe._ Is that all, Nancy? _Nancy._ All of this sort. I've given them all they can do to-night. _Phoebe._ Then sing the witch song, Nancy. _Nancy._ I'll sing the witch song, and you can dance on the table. _Phoebe._ But 'tis sinful to dance, Nancy! _Nancy._ 'Tis not sinful for a witch. _Phoebe._ True; I forgot I was a witch. [_Gets upon the table and dances, dangling her doll, while_ Nancy _sings._ WITCH SONG. (Same air as Spinning Song.) "I'll tell you a story, a story of one; '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.