MERCY LEWIS,
pointing:
It’s on the beam! Behind the rafter!
DANFORTH,
looking up:
Where!
ABIGAIL: Why—?
She gulps.
Why do you come, yellow bird?
PROCTOR: Where’s a bird? I see no bird!
ABIGAIL,
to the ceiling:
My face? My face?
PROCTOR: Mr. Hale—
DANFORTH: Be quiet!
PROCTOR,
to Hale:
Do you see a bird?
DANFORTH: Be quiet!!
ABIGAIL,
to the ceiling, in a genuine conversation with the
“bird,”
as though trying to talk it out of attacking her:
But God made my face; you cannot want to tear my face. Envy is a deadly sin, Mary.
MARY WARREN,
on her feet with a spring, and horrified, pleading:
Abby!
ABIGAIL,
unperturbed, continuing
to the
“bird”:
Oh, Mary, this is a black art to change your shape. No, I cannot, I cannot stop my mouth; it’s God’s work I do.
MARY WARREN: Abby, I’m
here!
PROCTOR,
frantically:
They’re pretending, Mr. Danforth!
ABIGAIL—
now she takes a backward step, as though in fear the bird will swoop down momentarily:
Oh, please, Mary! Don’t come down.
SUSANNA WALCOTT: Her claws, she’s stretching her claws!
PROCTOR: Lies, lies.
ABIGAIL,
backing further, eyes still fixed above:
Mary, please don’t hurt me!
MARY WARREN,
to Danforth:
I’m not hurting her!
DANFORTH,
to Mary Warren:
Why does she see this vision?
MARY WARREN : She sees nothin’!
ABIGAIL,
now staring full front as though hypnotized, and mimicking the exact tone of Mary Warren’s cry:
She sees nothin’!
MARY WARREN,
pleading:
Abby, you mustn’t!
ABIGAIL AND ALL THE GIRLS,
all transfixed:
Abby, you mustn’t!
MARY WARREN,
to all the girls:
I’m here, I’m here!
GIRLS: I’m here, I’m here!
DANFORTH,
horrified:
Mary Warren! Draw back your spirit out of them!
MARY WARREN: Mr. Danforth!
GIRLS,
cutting her off:
Mr. Danforth!
DANFORTH: Have you compacted with the Devil? Have you?
MARY WARREN: Never, never!
GIRLS: Never, never!
DANFORTH,
growing hysterical:
Why can they only repeat you?
PROCTOR: Give me a whip—I’ll stop it!
MARY WARREN: They’re sporting. They—!
GIRLS: They’re sporting!
MARY WARREN,
turning on them all hysterically and stamping her
feet: Abby, stop it!
GIRLS,
stamping their feet:
Abby, stop it!
MARY WARREN: Stop it!
GIRLS: Stop it!
MARY WARREN,
screaming it out at the top of her lungs, and raising her fists:
Stop it!!
GIRLS,
raising their fists:
Stop it!!
Mary Warren, utterly confounded, and becoming overwhelmed
by
Abigail‘s
—
and
the
girls’
—
utter conviction, starts to whimper, hands half raised, powerless, and all the girls begin whimpering exactly as she does.
DANFORTH: A little while ago you were afflicted. Now it seems you afflict others; where did you find this power?
MARY WARREN,
staring at Abigail :
I—have no power.
GIRLS: I have no power.
PROCTOR: They’re gulling you, Mister!
DANFORTH: Why did you turn about this past two weeks? You have seen the Devil, have you not?
HALE,
indicating Abigail and the girls:
You cannot believe them!
MARY WARREN: I—
PROCTOR,
sensing her weakening:
Mary, God damns all liars!
DANFORTH,
pounding it into her:
You have seen the Devil, you have made compact with Lucifer, have you not?
PROCTOR: God damns liars, Mary!
Mary utters something unintelligible, staring at Abigail, who keeps watching the “bird” above.
DANFORTH: I cannot hear you. What do you say?
Mary utters again unintelligibly.
You will confess yourself or you will hang!
He turns her roughly to face him.
Do you know who I am? I say you will hang if you do not open with me!
PROCTOR: Mary, remember the angel Raphael—do that which is good and—
ABIGAIL,
pointing upward:
The wings! Her wings are spreading! Mary, please, don‘t, don’t—!
HALE: I see nothing, Your Honor!
DANFORTH: Do you confess this power!
He is an inch from her face.
Speak!
ABIGAIL: She’s going to come down! She’s walking the beam!
DANFORTH: Will you speak!
MARY WARREN,
staring in horror:
I cannot!
GIRLS: I cannot!
PARRIS: Cast the Devil out! Look him in the face! Trample him! We’ll save you, Mary, only stand fast against him and—
ABIGAIL,
looking up:
Look out! She’s coming down!
She and all the girls run to one wall, shielding their eyes. And now, as though cornered, they let out a gigantic scream, and Mary, as though infected, opens her mouth and screams with them. Gradually Abigail and the girls leave off, until only Mary is left there, staring up at the “bird,”screaming madly. All watch her, horrified by this evident fit. Proctor strides to her.
PROCTOR: Mary, tell the Governor what they—
He has hardly got a word out, when, seeing him coming for her, she rushes out of his reach, screaming in horror.
MARY WARREN: Don’t touch me—don’t touch me!
At which the girls halt at the door.
PROCTOR,
astonished:
Mary!
MARY WARREN,
pointing at Proctor:
You’re the Devil’s man!
He is stopped in his tracks.
PARRIS: Praise God!
GIRLS: Praise God!
PROCTOR,
numbed:
Mary, how—?
MARY WARREN: I’ll not hang with you! I love God, I love God.
DANFORTH, to
Mary:
He bid you do the Devil’s work?
MARY WARREN,
hysterically, indicating Proctor:
He come at me by night and every day to sign, to sign, to—
DANFORTH: Sign what?
PARRIS: The Devil’s book? He come with a book?
MARY WARREN,
hysterically, pointing at Proctor, fearful of him:
My name, he want my name. “I’ll murder you,” he says, “if my wife hangs! We must go and overthrow the court,” he says!
Danforth’s head jerks toward Proctor, shock and horror in his face.
PROCTOR,
turning, appealing to Hale:
Mr. Hale!
MARY WARREN,
her sobs beginning:
He wake me every night, his eyes were like coals and his fingers claw my neck, and I sign, I sign ...
HALE: Excellency, this child’s gone wild!
PROCTOR,
as Danforth’s wide eyes pour on him:
Mary, Mary!
MARY WARREN,
screaming at him:
No, I love God; I go your way no more. I love God, I bless God.
Sobbing, she rushes to Abigail.
Abby, Abby, I’ll never hurt you more!
They all watch, as Abigail, out of her infinite charity, reaches out and draws the sobbing Mary to her, and then looks up to Danforth.
DANFORTH,
to Proctor:
What are you?
Proctor is beyond speech in his anger.
You are combined with anti-Christ, are you not? I have seen your power; you will not deny it! What say you, Mister?
HALE: Excellency—
DANFORTH : I will have nothing from you, Mr. Hale! To
Proctor:
Will you confess yourself befouled with Hell, or do you keep that black allegiance yet? What say you?
PROCTOR,
his mind wild, breathless:
I say—I say—God is dead!
PARRIS: Hear it, hear it!
PROCTOR,
laughs insanely, then:
A fire, a fire is burning! I hear the boot of Lucifer, I see his filthy face! And it is my face, and yours, Danforth! For them that quail to bring men out of ignorance, as I have quailed, and as you quail now when you know in all your black hearts that this be fraud—God damns our kind especially, and we will burn, we will burn together!
DANFORTH: Marshal! Take him and Corey with him to the jail!
HALE,
starting across to the door:
I denounce these proceedings!
PROCTOR: You are pulling Heaven down and raising up a whore!
HALE: I denounce these proceedings, I quit this court!
He slams the door to the outside behind him.
DANFORTH,
calling to him in a fury:
Mr. Hale! Mr. Hale!
THE CURTAIN FALLS
ACT FOUR
A cell in Salem jail, that fall.
At the back is a high barred window; near it, a great, heavy door. Along the walls are two benches.
The place is in darkness but for the moonlight seeping through the bars. It appears empty. Presently footsteps are heard coming down a corridor beyond the wall, keys rattle, and the door swings open. Marshal Herrick enters with a lantern.
He is nearly drunk, and heavy-footed. He goes to a bench and nudges a bundle of rags lying on it.
HERRICK: Sarah, wake up! Sarah Good!
He then crosses to the other bench.
SARAH GOOD,
rising in her rags:
Oh, Majesty! Comin‘, comin’! Tituba, he’s here, His Majesty’s come!
HERRICK: Go to the north cell; this place is wanted now.
He hangs his lantern on the wall. Tituba sits up.
TITUBA: That don’t look to me like His Majesty; look to me like the marshal.
HERRICK,
taking out a flask:
Get along with you now, clear this place.
He drinks, and Sarah Good comes and peers up into his face.
SARAH GOOD: Oh, is it you, Marshal! I thought sure you be the Devil comin’ for us. Could I have a sip of cider for me goin’- away ?
HERRICK,
handing her the flask:
And where are you off to, Sarah?
TITUBA,
as Sarah drinks:
We goin’ to Barbados, soon the Devil gits here with the feathers and the wings.
HERRICK: Oh? A happy voyage to you.
SARAH GOOD: A pair of bluebirds wingin’ southerly, the two of us! Oh, it be a grand transformation, Marshal!
She raises the flask to drink again.
HERRICK,
taking the flask from her lips:
You’d best give me that or you’ll never rise off the ground. Come along now.
TITUBA: I’ll speak to him for you, if you desires to come along, Marshal.
HERRICK: I’d not refuse it, Tituba; it’s the proper morning to fly into Hell.
TITUBA: Oh, it be no Hell in Barbados. Devil, him be pleasure-man in Barbados, him be singin’ and dancin’ in Barbados. It’s you folks—you riles him up ‘round here; it be too cold ’round here for that Old Boy. He freeze his soul in Massachusetts, but in Barbados be just as sweet and—
A bellowing cow is heard, and Tituba leaps up and calls to the window:
Aye, sir! That’s him, Sarah!
SARAH GOOD: I’m here, Majesty!
They hurriedly pick up their rags as Hopkins, a guard, enters.
HOPKINS: The Deputy Governor’s arrived.
HERRICK,
grabbing Tituba:
Come along, come along.
TITUBA,
resisting him:
No, he comin’ for me. I goin’ home!
HERRICK,
pulling her to the door:
That’s not Satan, just a poor old cow with a hatful of milk. Come along now, out with you!
TITUBA,
calling to the window:
Take me home, Devil! Take me home!
SARAH GOOD,
following the shouting Tituba out:
Tell him I’m goin’, Tituba! Now you tell him Sarah Good is goin’ too!
In the corridor outside Tituba calls on—“Take me home, Devil; Devil take me home!” and Hopkins’ voice orders her to move on. Herrick returns and begins to push old rags and straw into a corner. Hearing footsteps, he turns, and enter Danforth and Judge Hathorne. They are in greatcoats and wear hats against the bitter cold. They are followed in by Cheever, who carries a dispatch case and a flat wooden box containing his writing materials.
HERRICK: Good morning, Excellency.
DANFORTH: Where is Mr. Parris?
HERRICK: I’ll fetch him.
He starts for the door.
DANFORTH: Marshal.
Herrick stops.
When did Reverend Hale arrive?
HERRICK: It were toward midnight, I think.
DANFORTH,
suspiciously:
What is he about here?
HERRICK: He goes among them that will hang, sir. And he prays with them. He sits with Goody Nurse now. And Mr. Parris with him.
DANFORTH: Indeed. That man have no authority to enter here, Marshal. Why have you let him in?
HERRICK: Why, Mr. Parris command me, sir. I cannot deny him.
DANFORTH: Are you drunk, Marshal?
HERRICK: No, sir; it is a bitter night, and I have no fire here.
DANFORTH,
containing his anger:
Fetch Mr. Parris.
HERRICK: Aye, sir.
DANFORTH: There is a prodigious stench in this place.
HERRICK: I have only now cleared the people out for you.
DANFORTH: Beware hard drink, Marshal.
HERRICK: Aye, sir.
He waits an instant for further orders. But Danforth, in dissatisfaction, turns his back on him, and Herrick goes out. There is a pause. Danforth stands in thought.
HATHORNE: Let you question Hale, Excellency; I should not be surprised he have been preaching in Andover lately.
DANFORTH: We’ll come to that; speak nothing of Andover. Parris prays with him. That’s strange.
He blows on his hands, moves toward the window, and looks out.
HATHORNE: Excellency, I wonder if it be wise to let Mr. Parris so continuously with the prisoners.
Danforth turns to him, interested.
I think, sometimes, the man has a mad look these days.