Giles Corey.
Paul Bayley, Olive Corey's lover.
Samuel Parris, minister in Salem Village.
John Hathorne, magistrate.
Jonathan Corwin, magistrate.
Olive Corey, Giles Corey's daughter.
Martha Corey, Giles Corey's wife.
Ann Hutchins, Olive's friend and one of the Afflicted Girls.
Widow Eunice Hutchins, Ann's mother.
Phœbe Morse, little orphan girl, niece to Martha Corey.
Mercy Lewis, one of the Afflicted Girls.
Nancy Fox, an old serving-woman in Giles Corey's house.
Afflicted Girls, Constables, Marshal, People of Salem Village, Messengers, etc.
Scene I.—Salem Village. Living-room in Giles Corey's house. Olive Corey is spinning. Nancy Fox, the old servant, sits in the fireplace paring apples. Little Phœbe Morse, on a stool beside her, is knitting a stocking.
Phœbe (starting). What is that? Oh, Olive, what is that?
Nancy. Yes, what is that? Massy, what a clatter!
Olive (spinning). I heard naught. Be not so foolish, child. And you, Nancy, be of a surety old enough to know better.
Nancy. I trow there was a clatter in the chimbly. There 'tis again! Massy, what a screech!
Phœbe (running to Olive and clinging to her). Oh, Olive, what is it? what is it? Don't let it catch me. Oh, Olive!
Olive. I tell you 'twas naught.
Nancy. Them that won't hear be deafer than them that's born so. Massy, what a screech!
Phœbe. Oh, Olive, Olive! Don't let 'em catch me!
Olive. Nobody wants to catch you. Be quiet now, and I'll sing to you. Then you won't think you hear screeches.
Nancy. We won't, hey?
Olive. Be quiet! This folly hath gone too far. [Sings spinning song.
SPINNING SONG.
“I'll tell you a story; a story of one,
'Twas of a great prince whose name was King John.
A great prince was he, and a man of great might
In putting down wrong and in setting up right.
To my down, down, down, derry down.”
Nancy. Massy, what screeches! [Screams violently.
Phœbe. Oh, Nancy, 'twas you screeched then.
Nancy. It wasn't me; 'twas a witch in the chimbly. (Screams again.) There, hear that, will ye? I tell ye 'twa'n't me. I 'ain't opened my mouth.
Olive. Nancy, I will bear no more of this. If you be not quiet, I will tell my mother when she comes home. Now, Phœbe, sing the rest of the song with me, and think no more of such folly. [Sings with Phœbe.
“This king, being a mind to make himself merry,
He sent for the Bishop of Canterbury.
‘Good-morning, Mr. Bishop,’ the king did say.
‘Have you come here for to live or to die?’
To my down, down, down, derry down.
“ ‘For if you can't answer to my questions three,
Your head shall be taken from your body;
And if you can't answer unto them all right,
Your head shall be taken from your body quite.’
To my down, down, down, derry down.”
Nancy (wagging her head in time to the music). I know some words that go better with that tune.
Phœbe. What are they?
Nancy. Oh, I'm forbid to tell.
Phœbe. Who forbade you to tell, Nancy?
Nancy. The one who forbade me to tell, forbade me to tell who told me.
Olive. Don't gossip, or you won't get your stints done before mother comes home.
Phœbe (sulkily). I won't finish my stint. Aunt Corey set me too long a stint. I won't. Oh, there she is now! [Knits busily.
Enter Ann Hutchins.
Olive (rising). Well done, Ann. I was but now wishing to see you. Sit you down and lay off your cloak. Why, how pale you look, Ann! Are you sick?
Ann. You know best.
Olive. I? Why, what mean you, Ann?
Ann. You know what I mean, in spite of your innocent looks. Oh, open your eyes wide at me, if you want to! Perhaps you don't know what makes them bigger and bluer than they used to be.
Olive. Ann!
Ann. Oh, I mean nothing. I am not sick. Something frightened me as I came through the wood.
Olive. Frightened you! Why, what was it?
Phœbe. Oh, what was it, Ann?
Ann. I know not; something black that hustled quickly by me and raised a cold wind.
Phœbe. Oh, oh!
Olive. 'Twas a cat or a dog, and your own fear raised the cold wind. Think no more of it, Ann. Wait a moment while I go to the north room. I have something to show you. [Exit Olive with a candle.
Phœbe. What said the black thing to you, Ann?
Ann. I know not.
Nancy. Said it not: “Serve me; serve me?”
Ann. I know not. I was deaf with fear.
Phœbe. Oh, Ann, did it have horns?
Ann. I tell you I know not. You pester me, child.
Phœbe. Did it have hoofs and a tail?
Ann. Be quiet, I tell you, or I'll cuff your ears.
Nancy. She needn't be so topping. It will be laying in wait for her when she goes home. I'll warrant it won't let her off so easy.
Enter Olive, bringing an embroidered muslin cape. She puts it gently over Ann's shoulders.
Ann (throwing it off violently). Oh! oh! Take it away! take it away!
Olive. Why, Ann, what ails you?
Ann. Take it away, I say! What mean you by your cursed arts?
Olive. Why, Ann! I have been saving a long time to buy it for you. 'Tis like my last summer's cape that you fancied so much. I sent by father to Boston for it.
Ann. I need it not.
Olive. I thought 'twould suit well with your green gown.
Ann. 'Twill suit well enough with a green gown, but not with a sore heart.
Nancy. I miss my guess but it 'll suit well enough with her heart too. I trow that's as green as her gown; green's the jealous color.
Olive. You be all unstrung by your walk hither through the wood, Ann. I'll fold the cape up nicely for you, and you can take it when you go home. And mind you wear it next Sabbath day, sweet. Now I must to my wheel again, or I shall not finish my stint by nine o'clock.
Ann. Your looks show that you were up later than nine o'clock last night.
Phœbe. Oh, Ann, did you see the light in the fore room?
Ann. That did I. I stood at my chamber and saw it shine through the wood.
Nancy. You couldn't see so far without spectacles.
Ann. It blinded me. I could get no sleep.
Nancy. You think your eyes are mighty sharp. Maybe your ears are too? Maybe you heard 'em kissing at the door when he went home?
Olive. Nancy, be quiet!
Nancy. You needn't color up and shake your head at me, Olive. They stood kissing there nigh an hour, and he with his arm round her waist, and she with hers round his neck. They'd kiss, then they'd eye each other and kiss again. I know I woke up and thought 'twas Injuns, and I peeked out of my chamber window. Such doings! You'd ought to have seen 'em, Ann.
Phœbe. Oh, Nancy, why didn't you wake me up?
Olive. Nancy, I'll have no more of this.
Nancy. That's what she ought to have said last night—hadn't she, Ann? But she didn't. Oh, I'll warrant she didn't! I know you would, Ann.
Olive. Nancy! [A noise is heard outside.
Phœbe. Oh, what's that noise? What is coming?
Enter Giles Corey, panting. He flings the door to violently and slips the bolt.
Nancy. Massy! what's after ye?
Phœbe. Oh, Uncle Corey, what's the matter?
Giles. The matter is there be too many evil things abroad nowadays for a man to be out after nightfall. When things that can be hit by musket balls lay in wait, old Giles Corey is as brave as any man; but when it comes to devilish black beasts and black men that musket balls bound back from—What! you here, Ann Hutchins? What be you out after dark for?
Ann. I came over to see Olive, Goodman Corey.
Giles. You'd best stayed by your own hearth if you've got one. Young women have no call to be out gadding after dark in these times.
Phœbe. Oh, Uncle Corey, something did frighten Ann as she came through the wood. A black beast, with horns and a tail and eyes like balls of fire, jumped out of the bushes at her, and bade her sign the book in a dreadful voice.
Giles. What! Was't so, Ann?
Ann. I know not. There was something.
Olive (laughing). 'Twas naught but Ann's own shadow that her fear gave a voice and a touch to. Say naught to frighten Ann, father; she is the most timorous maid in Salem Village now.
Giles. There is some wisdom in fear nowadays. You make too light of it, lass.
Olive (laughing). Nay, father, I'll turn to and hang up my own shadow in the chimbly-place for a witch, an you say so.
Giles. This be no subject for jest. Said you the black beast spoke to you, Ann?
Ann. I know not. Once I thought I heard Olive calling. I know not what I heard.
Giles. You'd best have stayed at home. Where is your mother, Olive?
Olive. She has gone to Goodwife Bishop's with a basket of eggs.
Giles. Gone three miles to Goodwife Bishop's this time of night? Is the woman gone out of her senses?
Olive. She is not afraid.
Giles. I'll warrant she is not afraid. So much the worse for her. Mayhap she's gone riding on a broomstick herself. How is the cat?
Olive. She is better.
Giles. She was taken strangely, if your mother did make light of it. And the ox, hath he fell down again?
Olive. Not that I have heard.
Giles. The ox was taken strangely, if your mother did pooh at it. The ox was better when she went out of the yard.
Phœbe. There's Aunt Corey now. Who is she talking to?
Enter Martha Corey.
Phœbe. Who were you talking to, Aunt Corey?
Martha. Nobody, child. Good-evening, Ann.
Phœbe.