MARY (_stretching out her hands_) She hurts me now. See, she has pinched my hands! HATHORNE Who made these marks Upon her hands? MARTHA I do not know. I stand Apart from her. I did not touch her hands. HATHORNE Who hurt her then? MARTHA I know not. HATHORNE Do you think She is bewitched? MARTHA Indeed I do not think so. I am no Witch, and have no faith in Witches. HATHORNE Then answer me: When certain persons came To see you yesterday, how did you know Beforehand why they came? MARTHA I had had speech; The children said I hurt them, and I thought These people came to question me about it. HATHORNE How did you know the children had been told To note the clothes you wore? MARTHA My husband told me What others said about it. HATHORNE Goodman Corey, Say, did you tell her? COREY I must speak the truth; I did not tell her. It was some one else. HATHORNE Did you not say your husband told you so? How dare you tell a lie in this assembly? Who told you of the clothes? Confess the truth. MARTHA _bites her lips, and is silent_. You bite your lips, but do not answer me! MARY Ah, she is biting me! Avoid, avoid! HATHORNE You said your husband told you. MARTHA Yes, he told me The children said I troubled them. HATHORNE Then tell me, Why do you trouble them? MARTHA I have denied it. MARY She threatened me; stabbed at me with her spindle; And, when my brother thrust her with his sword, He tore her gown, and cut a piece away. Here are they both, the spindle and the cloth. _Shows them._ HATHORNE And there are persons here who know the truth Of what has now been said. What answer make you? MARTHA I make no answer. Give me leave to pray. HATHORNE Whom would you pray to? MARTHA To my God and Father. HATHORNE Who is your God and Father? MARTHA The Almighty! HATHORNE Doth he you pray to say that he is God? It is the Prince of Darkness, and not God. MARY There is a dark shape whispering in her ear. HATHORNE What does it say to you? MARTHA I see no shape. HATHORNE Did you not hear it whisper? MARTHA I heard nothing. MARY What torture! Ah, what agony I suffer! _Falls into a swoon._ HATHORNE You see this woman cannot stand before you. If you would look for mercy, you must look In God's way, by confession of your guilt. Why does your spectre haunt and hurt this person? MARTHA I do not know. He who appeared of old In Samuel's shape, a saint and glorified, May come in whatsoever shape he chooses. I cannot help it. I am sick at heart! COREY O Martha, Martha! let me hold your hand. HATHORNE