* DRAMATISTS PLAY SERVICE. INC.THE CRUCIBLE Copyright © Renewed 1980, 1981, 1982, Arthur Miller ‘Copyright © 1952, 1953, 1954, Archur Miller All Rights Reserved CAUTION: Profesionals and amateurs ate hereby warmed that formance of THI’ CRUCIBLE is subject to payment ofa royaiy. Iris uly prouzted under the copyright ws of te Used Sates of America, znd) Of all coonees coveted by che Intemational Coppight Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest Pits ‘ommonwealth), and of all counties covered by the Pan-American Copyright Convention, the Univeral Copyright Convention, the Bere retin fel coun mihwhich bs Unie Sus asia copyright relations. 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The Hngih langange stock anc amateur sage performance rights in dhe Unial Sa eas pcan nd Caso TH CROCIRLE age cone exclusely by Dri Play Savi Lc, 440 Pak Avenue South, NewYork, NY 10010, No profesional ornonprofessonal performance of te Play may be gven without obtaining in advance the writen permission of Dramatists Pay Savice, Ine, and paying the resus louis concerning alone cghs should be adres to ICM Parner, 3 are 35th See 16th Floor New Yorks NY 10003 fh Pate Hera ‘SPECTAL nom ‘Anyone reciving permission to proce THE CRUCIBLE is equted wo alee creieto the Autor assole abd exclusive Asthor of th Play on thet ‘oF all prograns dita! in connection wth performances ofthe Pity and nal tances in which the ile of the May Spears or purses of adverusing publciing or etherwie caploling te Pay andor 2 prodcton chest. The natn ofthe Autor mst apsear on a separate ne, Etwhich no other name appear Snsmcdiatly beneath th te and tn az af ops cal 950% of he se of he gens most prominent fee sd forthe Geof the Pay No person, frm of ny may gece crt larger on mote prominent tun th scotded the Auton‘THE CRUCIBLE was first presented by Kermit Bloomgarden at the Martin Beck ‘Theatre, New York City, on January 22, 1953. It was directed by Jed Harti, and the scenery was designed by Boris Aronson. ‘The cast was as follows: BETTY PARRIS. ss - Janet Alexander REVEREND SAMUEL PARRIS ..... ~ Fred Stewart TITUBA sresevn .. Jacqueline Andre ABIGAIL WILLIAMS Madeleine Sherwood. SUSANNA WALCOTT .. .. Barbara Stanton MRS. ANN PUTNAM [Link] Jane Hoffman THOMAS PUTNAM ve Raymond Bramley ‘MERCY LEWIS .. .- Dorothy Jolife ‘MARY WARREN, Jenay Egan JOHN PROCTOR Arthur Kennedy REBECCA NURSE .. GILES COREY REVEREND JOHN HALE ELIZABETH PROCTOR .... FRANCIS NURSE nn EZEKIEL CHEEVER ron JOHN WILLARD so» George Mitchell JUDGE HATHORNE .... snes Philip Coolidge DEPUTY-GOVERNOR DANFORTH ‘Walter Hampden SARAH GOOD ‘Adele Fortin HOPKINS ...SYNOPSIS OF SCENES ACT |Scene 1: A bedroom in Reverend Samuel Parris’ house, Salem, Massachusetts, in the spring of the year 1692. ACT I—Scene 2: The common room of Proctor’s house, eight days later ACT Il—Scene 1: Five weeks later. A wood. ACT H—Seene 2: ‘the vestry of the Salem Meeting House, two ‘weeks later. ACT I—Scene 3; A cell in Salem jail, three months lates. “The Play Service hereby acknowledges with grateful thanks the friendly help of Mr. Leonard Patrick, production stage manager of the Broadway production, for his aid in preparing this acting edition.THE CRUCIBLE ACTI Scene 1 A bedroom in Reverend Samuel Parris howe, Salem, Masia- chusets, in the spring of the year 1692. As the curtain rises we see Parris on his knees, beside a bed, situated in the c. of the stage. His daughter Betty aged ten, is cxlep init, bus the headboard blocks our view of her. The sow rising of light revealing the scene should imply the dawning of day, One emphatic source of light is at the ., bus since the stage is surrounded by black velour freedom is given to light the area as the imagination requires. The only backdrop in all scenes of the play is of black curtains at the back and sides off the stage. The curtains at the sides of the stage (“legs”) are parallel to each other and parallel to the front of the stage ‘There are three of these curtains on each vide of the stage. All ‘entrances are made between these “legs.” Across the back of the stage is one curtain, In front of the curtains is a misty bluish lighting effect. Ths cam be achieved by a pipe of lights directly infront ofthe black backdrop. Rays of light an extend slightly DS. to be used asa definitive US. border fr the acting area. This makes the black backdrop les stark and produces a shee of light to appear as he back wall ofthe set. The mood must be onc af igh mastery impending revelation. Thee willbe a straight wooden chair to the left of the bed, another at r. and upstage of it, and a flat-topped clothes ches where convenient. The relative placing ofthese object depends upon he acting heme, rather than upon the requirements ofthe normal bedroom idea. 5In any case, she idea of chis furniture is turk, utilitarian, and. ‘beautsful in that direct way. Across the back of the stage a curtain of bluish light relieves the blacknes of the drapes. It willbe posible fr am actor to stand behind this light curtain, and 10 be barely visible o the audience as he awaits his entrance. Until he steps through this curain he will be inactive, and in not present inthe scene. However, entrances may be made ety lm ef frie As Parris prays, Tituba appears bebind the light curtain. She is bis Negro slave, in her fifties. She hesitates before entering, then seps into the acting area, approaches her master, glancing cover bis back at the child on the bed. ‘TTLUBA. My Beuy be hearty soon? PARRIS. Out of here! TITUBA. My Betty not gois’ dic... PARRIS. Out of my sight! Out of my... (Vituba exits harviedly. He Aneel again. He is overcome with sobs.) Oh, my God! God belp me! (Quaking with a bodyful of fear, and untering undecipherable sylla- bis of obs.) Betty. Child. Dear child. Will you wake, will you open up your eyes! Betty, little one... (Abigail Williams, seventeen, eniers. A strikingly beautiful girl, an orphan, with an endless capacity for dissembling. Now she i all worry and apprehension and propriety) ABIGAIL. Uncle? Susanna Walleot’s here from Doctor Griggs. PARRIS. Oh? The doctor. (Rising.) Let her come, let her come. ABIGAIL. Come in, Susanna, (Susanna Wallets a litle younger than Abigail. enters) PARRIS. What does the doctor say, child? SUSANNA. Doctor Griggs he bid me come and tell you, Reverend six, chat he cannot discover no medicine for it in his books. PARRIS. ‘Then he must search on. SUSANNA. Aye, si, he have been scarchin’ his books since he lft you, sir, but he bid me tell you thar you might look to unnatural tings forthe cause of it PARRIS. No—no. There be no unnatural causes here ‘lll hin T have sent for Reverend Hale of Beverly, and Mister Hale will surely confirm that. Let him look to medicine, and put out all thought of unnatural causes here. There be none. 6SUSANNA. Aye, sit. He bid me tell you. ABIGAIL. Speak nothin’ of it in the village, Susanna. PARRIS. Go directly home and speak nothin’ of unnatural causes. SUSANNA. Aye. sit. I pray for her. (Goes out.) ABIGAIL. Uncle, che rumor of witchcraft is all about; I think yould best go down and deny it yourself. The parlor’ packed with people sit. Tl sit with her PARRIS. And what shall I say wo them? That my daughter and my niece I discovered dancing like heathen in the forest?! ABIGAIL. Uncle, we did dance; ler you tell chem I confessed it But they're speakin’ of witcheraft; Bettys not witched. PARRIS. Abigail, I cannot go before the congregation when I know you have not opened with me. What did you do with her in the forest? ABIGAIL. We did dance, Uncle, and when you leaped out of the bbush so suddenly, Betty was frightened and then she fainted. And there's the whole of i. PARRIS, Child. Sit you down, ABIGAIL. I would never hure Betty, I love her dearly, 1 PARRIS, Now look you, child—I have no desire to punish you; that will come in its time. But if you crafficked with spirits in the forest, 1 must know it, for surely my enemies will, and they'll ruin me with it... ABIGAIL, But we never conjured spirits. PARRIS, ‘Then why can she not move herself since midnight? This child is desperate! Ie must come out—my enemies will bring it out. Letme know what you done there. Abigail, do you understand that Thave many enemies? ABIGAIL. know it, Uncle. PARRIS, There is a faction that is sworn to drive me from my pulpit. Do you understand that? ABIGAIL. T think so, sit. PARRIS, Now then—in the midst of such distuption, my own household is discovered to be the very center of some obscene practice. Abominations are done in the forest... ABIGAIL, It were only sport, Uncle! PARRIS, I saw Tituba waving her arms over che fre when I came con you; why were she doing that? And I heard a screeching and gibberish comin? from her mouth...ABIGAIL. She always sings her Barbados songs, and we dance. PARRIS, T cannot blink what I saw, Abigail—for my enemies will not blink i. I saw a dress lying in the gras. ABIGAIL..A dress PARRIS. Aye, « dress. And I chought T'saw a... someone naked running through the trees! ABIGAIL. No one was naked! You mistake yourself, Uncle! PARRIS. I saw it! Now tell me true, Abigail. Now my ministry’ at stake; my ministry and perhaps your cousin’s life... Whatever abomination you have done, give me all of it now, for I dare not be taken unaware when I go before them down there. ABIGATL. "There is nothin’ more. T sweat it, Uncle. PARRIS. Abigail, Thave fought here three long years to bend these stiff necked people to me, and now, just now when there must be some good respect for me in the parish, you compromise my very character. I have given you 2 home, child, | have put clothes upon your back—now give me upright answer:—your name in the town—it is entirely white is i no? ABIGAIL. Why, Fam sue name. PARRIS. Abigail is there any other cause than you have told me, for Goody Proctor dischargin’ you? It has troubled mie chat you are now seven months out of their house, an¢ in al cis time no other family has ever called for your service. ABIGAIL. ‘They want slaves, not such as . Lee them send to Barba- dos for that, Iwill not black my fice for any of thera! (Enter Mrs. Ann Puram. She is a rwisted soul of forty-five, a death-ridden woman, basnted by dreams.) PARRIS. No—no, | come ANN, Teisa marvel. Is surely a stroke of hell upon you.. PARRIS. No, Goody Putnam, itis. ANN. How high did she fly, how high? PARRIS. No—no, she never flew... ANN, Why, it's sure she did; Mister Collins saw her goin’ over Ingersoll’ barn, and come down light as bied, he says! PARRIS. Now, look you, Goody Putcam; she never... (Ener ‘Thomas Purnam, a well-io-do, hard-handed landowner near ff.) ‘Oh, good morning, Mister Purnam... PUTNAM. Iisa providence the thing s cut now! Ici providence. there be no blush about my mnot have anyone. Why, Goody Putnam, 8PARRIS. What's out, sit, what’s..? PUTNAM. (Looking down at Betty.) Why, her cyesis closed! Look ANN. Why ta Ours 1. Why, that’s is open. PARRIS, Yourliele Rush is ek? ANN. [not cal it sick, the Devil’s couch is heavier than sick, i's deaih, know, it’s death drivin’ into them forked and hoofed. PARRIS. Oh, pray not! Why, how does your child ail? ANN, ‘She ails as she must—she never waked shis morning but her «yes open and she walks, and hears naught, sts naught, and can- noteat. Her soul is taken, surely. PUTNAM. ‘They say you've sent for Reverend Hile of Beverly? PARRIS. A precaution only. He has much experience in all demonic ars andl... ANN. He has indeed, and found 2 witch in Beverly last year, and let you remember that. PARRIS. Now, Goody Ann, they only thought that were a witch, and I am certain there be no element of witchcraft here. PUTNAM. No witchcraft! Now look you, Mister Parris... PARRIS. ‘Thomas, Thomas, I pray you, leap not to witeheraft. 1 know that you, yot least ofall, Thomas, would ever wish so disas- trous 2 charge laid upon me. We cannot leap to witchcraft. They vill how! me out of Salem for such corruption in my house. PUTNAM. Now, look you, Mister Parris; I have taken your part in all contention here, and I would continue: but I cannot if you hhold back in this. There are hurcful, vengeful spires layin’ hands on these children, PARRIS. But, Thomas, you cannot... PUTNAM. Ann! Tell Mister Parris what you have done. ANN, Reverend Parris, I have laid seven bebies unbaptized in the earth, Believe me, sir, you never saw more hearty babies born. And yet, cach would wither in my arms the very right of their birch. I hhave spoke nothin’, but my heart has clamored intimations. And now, this year, my Ruth, my only—I see her turning serange. A sectet child she has become this yeas, and shrivels like a sucking ‘mouth were pullin’ on her life, too. And so I choughe to send her to your Tituba— PARRIS, To Tituba! What may Tituba...? ANN. Tituba knows how to speak to che dead, Mister Paris PARRIS. Goody Ann, itis 2 formidable sin toconjure up the dead! 9ANN. Take ic on my soul, (Rising,) but who dse may surdy tell tus what person murdered my babies. PARRIS. Woman! ANN. ‘They were murdered, Mister Parris! And mark this proof!— mark it Last night my Ruth were ever so close ta their litte spicits, I know it, sit. Yor how else is she struck dumb now except some power of darkness would stop het mouth! It isa marvelous sign, Mister Paris! PUTNAM. Don't you understand it, sit? ‘There is a murdering ‘witch among us bound to keep hersclin the dark. Let your encmies make of itwhat they will, you cannot blink it more. PARRIS. (To Abigail) ‘Then you were conjuring spirits last night. ABIGAIL. Not I, si, not 1, —Yituba and Ruth PARRIS. Now [am undone, PUTNAM. You are not undone. Let you take Fold bere. Wait for no one to charge you—declare it yourselé You have discovered wwitchoraf. PARRIS. In my house? In my house, ‘Thomas?—they will topple sme with thist ‘They will make of ita... (Enter Mercy Lewis, a sly, merciless gr of eighteen.) MERCY. Your pardons... only thought to sec ow Bets PUTNAN.. Why aren't you home? Who's with Ruth? MERCY. Her grandma come. She's improved alitde, [think —she give a powerful sneeze before. ANN, Ab, there’ a sign of life! MERCY. [i fear no more, Goody Putnam, it were a grand sneeze; another like i¢ will shake her wits together, 'm sare. PARRIS. Will you leave me now, Thomas, I would pray a while alone... ABIGAIL. Uncle, you've prayed since midnight. Why do you not go downand...? PARRIS. No-no. I'll wait till Mister Hale arrives, PUTNAM. (To Parris) Now leok you, sit—et you strike out against the Devil and the village will bless you for ie! Come down, speak to them—pray with them—ihey're thirsting for your word, Miser! Sucely youl pray with them. PARRIS. I have na stomach for dispntarion chic morning. T will lead them in a psalm. But let you say nothing cf witcheraft yet. I will nor discuss it. The cause is yet unknown, Ihave had enough contention since [came I wane no more, (Putnam roses. to above iotable, gets hat, erases and exits.) ANN: Mergy, you go home to Ruth, dye hear? MERCY. Aye, Mum. (Ann goes out.) PARRIS. If she stars for the window, cry for meat once. (Chasing 10 door.) ABIGAIL, Yes, Uncle. PARRIS, There isa terrible power in her arms today. (Goes out with Putnam.) ABIGAIL. How is Ruth sick? MERCY. les weirdish, I know not—she seems to walk like a dead cone since last night. ABIGAIL. Betty? (Betty doesn’t move. She shakes her.) Now stop this! Betty! Sit up now! MERCY. Have you tried beatin’ her? I gave Ruth 2 good one and ic waked her for a minute. Here, let me have her... ABIGAIL. No, he'll be comin’ up. Now look you, if they be ‘questioning us tell them we danced—I cold him as much already. MERCY, And what more? ABIGAIL. He saw you naked, MERCY. Oh, Jesus (Falls back on bed. Enter Mary Warren, breathless She is seventeen, a subserciens, naive girl) MARY. Wharlll we do, che whole village is out! MERCY. (Mimicking her.) “Whatll we do?” (Siting up.) MARY. I just come from the farm, the whole countzy’s talkin’ wwitcherafi! They'll be callin’ us witches, Abby! MERCY. (Mimicking her.) “They'll be calli’ us witches, Abby.” ‘She means to tell, 1 know it, MARY. Abby, we've gor to tell. Witchery’s a hangin’ error, a hangin’ like they done in Boston two year ago! We must tell the truth, Abby!—you'll only be whipped for dancin’, and the other things! ABIGAIL. Oh, well be whipped! ‘MARY, I never done none of it, Abby, I only looked! MERCY. Oh, you're a great one for lookin’, aren't you, Mary Warren? (Betty whimpers.) ABIGAIL, Betty? Now, Betty, dear, wake up now. Ie’s Abigail (She sits Betty up, furiously shakes her) Vl beat you, Bercy! (Betty swhimpers.) My, you seem improving. I talked to your papa and I told him everything. So there's nothing to... BETTY. Iwant my mama! ABIGAIL. What ails you, Betty? Your mama's dead and busied... uBETTY. Tl fly co Mama, let me fly..! (Raises her arms as though to fy. Mercy and Abigail thrust them down.) ‘ABIGAIL. T told him everything, he knows now; he knows every- thing we... (Betty suddenly springs off bed, rushes across reom to window, where Abigail catches her.) BETTY. You drank blood, Abby, you drank blood! ABIGAIL. (Dragging Betty back t0 bed and forcing her into it.) Betty, you never say chat again! You will never... BETTY. You did, you did! You drank a charm to kill John Proctor’s wife! You drank a charm to kill Goody Proctor! ABIGAIL. (Slaps her face ! BETTY. (Collapsing on the bed.) Mama, Mama... into sobs.) ABIGAIL. Now look you. All of you. We danced. And Tieuba con- jured Ruth Putnam's dead sisters. And that is all. And marke :his— let cither of you breathe a word, or the edge of a word about the other things, and I will come co you in the black of some terrible night and I will bring @ pointy reckoning that will shudder you. ‘And you know I can do it; I saw Indians smash my dear parents) heads on the pillow next to mine, and T have seen some reddish work done at night, and I can make you wish you had never seen the sun go down! (Betty cries louder. She goes to Betty, sis 1. side of bed us. of Mercy, and roughly sits ber up,) Now you... sit up and stop this! (Betty collapses in her hands.) MARY. What's got her? Abby, she's going to dit Ie’ asin to conjure and we... ABIGAIL. T say shut it, Mary Warren! (Enter John Proctor) ‘MARY. Obi I'm just going home, Mister Proctor. PROCTOR. Be you foolish, Mary Warren? Be you deaf? [forbid you leave the house, did I not? Why shall [ pay you?—I am lool for you more often than my cows! MARY, T only come to see the great doings in the world. PROCTOR. T'll show you a great doin’ on yous arse one of these days. Now get you home; (Mary croses up and out.) my wife is waitin’ with your work! MERCY, (Rising, crossing to eninance. Ttillated. Being awsare oftheir relationship.) Ve best be off. T have my Ruth to watch... Good morning, Mister Proctor. (Mercy sidles out. Since Proctor’ entrance, Abigail has stood absorbing his presence, wide-eyed.) ABIGAIL. She’ only gone silly, somehow. She'll come out off. 12PROCTOR, So she flies, ch? Where are her wings? ABIGAIL. (With a nervous laugh.) Oh, John, sure youte not believin she fies? PROCTOR. The road past my house is a pilgrimage to Salem all morning, The town's mumbling witehcraf. ABIGAIL. Oh, posh!—We were dancin’ in the woods last night, and my uncle leaped in on us. She took fright, is all. PROCTOR. (His smile widens. Crosing to door.) Dancin’ by moon- lighe! (Abigail springs into his path.) You'll be clapped in the stocks before youre twenty, ABIGAIL. (Barring his way at door.) Give me a word, John. A soft word. PROCTOR. No—no, Abby, I've not come for that. ABIGAIL. You come five mile to see a silly giel fy? 1 know you berter, PROCTOR. I come to see what mischief your uncle’ brewin’ now. Puc it out of mind, Abby. ABIGAIL. John—I am waitin’ for you every night. PROCTOR. Abby, youll put it out of mind. I'll not be comin’ for you more. ABIGAIL. You're surely sportin’ with me. PROCTOR. You know me better. ABIGAIL. I know how you clutched my back behind your house and sweated like a stallion whenever I come neat! I savr your fice ‘when she put me out and you loved me chen and you do now! PROCTOR. Abby, that’s a wild thing to say... ABIGAIL. A wild thing may say wild things. [have seen you since she put me out, I have seen you nights. PROCTOR. Thave hardly stepped off my farm this sevenmonth. ABIGAIL. Thave a sense for heat, John, and yours has dravn me to my window. Do you tell me you've never looked up at my window? PROCTOR. Pethaps I... have. ABIGAIL. know you, John, I know you. (She is weeping.) I cannot sleep for dreamin’, I cannot dream but I wake and walk about the house as though Ti find you comin’ through some door. PROCTOR. (Taking her hands.) Chil ABIGAIL. (With a flash of anger. Throwing his bands off) How do you call me child! PROCTOR. (As three or four persons oftage begin a quiet chant—a uhm or mn. by, nay ti of you sof ons eto ine 1BBut [ will cut off my hand before T'll ever reach for you again. Wipe it out of mind-—- (Tikes her arms,) We never touched, Abby. ABIGAIL... (Puating bands on bis shoulders.) Aye, bat we dic PROCTOR. (Pushing her away.) Aye, but we did not. ABIGAIL. (With a bitter anger.) Oh, I marvel how such a (Beating fer fits again sce.) song man may let sch sly wile PROCIOR. (Coldly. Grabbing her wrists.) Youll speak nothin’ of Blizabeth! ABIGAIL.. She is blackening my name in the village! She is telling Jies about me! She is a cold snivelling woman and you bend to her! Tet her turn you like a...? PROCTOR. (Shakes her.) Do you look for whippin'! ABIGAIL, (Outraged. In tears.) look for John Proctor that put knowledge in my heart! T never knew what pretense Salem was, ! never knew the lying lessons 1 was taught by all these Christian ‘women and theit covenanted men! —And now you bid me tear the light out of my eyes? J will not, I cannot! (Shakes fre.) You loved ‘me, John Proctor, and whatever sin itis you love me yet! (He turns «abruptly to go out. She rushes to door, blocks it.) John, pity me, pity me! (The word “Jebouah” is heard in the psalm—the song outide— Beaty claps her ears suddenly, and whines loudly.) Betty? (She hurries 40 Betty, who is sisting up and screaming, Proctor cresesD. to Ube of Abigail, wh is trying bo pd Bettys snd dons, alin “Bet?” Proctor is growing unnerved, calling, “Whats she doing? Girt, what ails you? ‘Stop that woailin Girl” Singing has stopped in the midst of this, and Parris rushes in.) PARRIS. What happened? What are you doing to her! Betty... (Rushes 10 bed, crying “Betty, Betty!” as Ann crosses to above Parris, feverish with curiosity, and with her Putnam, who crosses to bebind hen) ABIGAIL. She heard you singin’ and suddenly she’s up and psalm! ‘The psalm!—she cannot bear to hear the Lord's PARRIS. No, God forbid. ANN. Mark it for a sign, mark it..! (Rebecca Nurse, seventy-Av0, centers. She is white-haired, and leans upon her walking stick ) PUTNAM, ‘tbat is @ notorious sign of witcheraf afoot, « prodi- gious sign! 4ANN. My mother told me that! When they cannot bear to hear the name of... PARRIS, Rebecca, Rebecca, come to her... we're lost, she suddenly cannot bear to hear the Lord's name. (Rebecca crosses to bed. Giles Carey enters. He is eighty-thre, knotied with muscle, canny inquisitive, and sill powerful) There is hard sickness here, Giles Corey, 50 please to keep the quiet. COREY. I've not said a word. No one here can testify I've said a word. I she going to fly again? I hear she fics. PUTNAM. Man, be quiet now! (Rebecca stands by Betty who becomes quiet.) ANN. What have you done? REBECCA. Pray; calm yourselves. 1 have eleven children, and 1 am twenty-six times a grandma, and I have seen them all through their silly seasons, and when it come on them they will run the Devil bowiegged keeping up with their mischief. I think she'll wake when she tires of it. A child’s spirit is like 2 child, you can never catch itby running after it, you must stand sul, and for love it will soon itself come back. PROCTOR. Aye, that's the truth of it, Rebecca. ANN. This is no silly season, Rebecca. My Ruth is bewildered, Rebecca, she cannot eat. REBECCA. Perhaps she is not hungered yet. Mr. Parris, I hope ‘you are not decided to goin search of loose spirits. P've heard promise of that outside... PARRIS. A wide opinions running in che path thas the Devil ‘may be among us, and I would satisfy them that they are wrong PROCTOR. ‘Then let you come out and call ‘heanorone "Areyou ‘our minister, or Mister Hale? Did you consult the wardens of the church before you called this minister to look for devils? PARRIS. He is not coming to look for devild PROCTOR, ‘Then what’ he coming for? PUTNAM. ‘There be children dyin’ in the village, Mister... PROCTOR. see none dyin’ REBECCA. Pray, John... becalm. Mister Parts, I think youd best send Reverend Hale back as soon as he come. ‘This will se us all ro anguin’ again in che society, and we thought to have peace this yeat, 1 think we ought rely on Doctor Griggs now; and good prayer... ANN. Rebecca, the doctor's baffled. REBECCA. If so he is, then let us go to God for the cause of it. 15,“There is prodigious danger in the seeking ofloose spits, I fea ity I feat it, Let us rather blame ourselves and... PUTNAM. How may we blame ourselves? | am one of nine sons; the Purnam sced have peopled this province. And yet I have but tone child efi of ejght—and nov she shrivel! REBECCA, [ cannot fathom that, ANN. You think it God's work you should never lose < child, nor a grandchild either, and [bury all but one? PUTNAM. When Reverend Hale comes you will proceed to look for signs of witchcraft here. PROCTOR. You cannot command Mister Parris, We vore by name in this society, noc by acreage. PUTNAM. T never heard you woztied so on this society, Mister Proctor. Ido not chink I saw you at Sabbath meeting since snow flew. PROCTOR. | have trouble enough without I come five mile to hear him preach only hellfire and bloody dampation, ‘Ihere are ‘many others who stay away from church these days because he hardly cver mention God anymore. PARRIS. Why, chars a drastic charge... REBECCA, It's somewhat truc; there are many that quail co bring their children... PARRIS. I do not preach for childrea, Rebecca. leis noc the caldren ‘who are unmindful of their obligations toward this rainistry. Where is my wood? My contract provides | be supplied with all my fire- wood. [am wating since November fora stick, and even in November had to show my frost-bitten hands like some London begat! COREY. You are allowed six pounds a year to buy your wood, Mister Paris. PARRIS. am paid litle enough without 1 spend six pound on firewood. ‘The salary is sixty-six pound, Mister Prociod Tam not some preaching farmer with a book wader my army | ama graduare of Harvard Coll COREY. Aye, and well instructed in mathematic PARRIS. Mister Corey, you will look far for a man of my kind at sixty pound a year! 1 am not used to this poverty; | let a thrifly business in the Barbados to serve the Lord. 1 do not Fathom it, why am I persecuted here? I cannot offer one proposition but there be «howling riot of argument. | have often wondered if the Devil be in it somewhere; I cannot understand you people otherwise. 16PROCTOR. Mister Parris, you are the frst minister ever did demand the deed to this house— PARRIS, Tam your third preacher in seven years, I do not wish to be put out like the cat, whenever some majority feels che whim, You people seem not to comprehend that a minster isthe Lord’s man in the parish; a minister is not eo beso lightly eossed and contradicced... PUTNAM. Aye! PARRIS. There ether obedience or the shurch wll bur ike hl is burning PROCTOR. Can ‘you speak one minuce without we land in hell again? Iam sick of hel! PARRIS, Tis nor for you co say what is good for you to hear! PROCTOR. I may speak my heart, I chia! PARRIS, What, are we Quakers? We are not Quakers here yet, Mister Proctor. And you may tell that to your followers! PROCTOR. My followers! PARRIS. There is a party in this church; [am not blind; there is a faction and a party. PROCTOR. Againse you? PUTNAM. Agnes im and all author PROCTOR. Why, then I must find it and join it. REBECCA. He does not mean the... PROCTOR. I mean it solemnly, Rebecca; I like not the smell of this “authority” I have a crop to sow, and lumber to drag home. ‘What say you, Giles? Ler’ find that party. He says there is a party. COREY, I've changed my opinion of this man. Mister Parts, I beg your pardon. I never thought you had so much iron in you, PARRIS. Why, thank you, Giles. COREY. It suggesc to the mind what the trouble be among us all these years. Think on it, wherefore is everybody suing everybody cbse. [have been six times in court this year. PROCTOR. Isic che Devil’ faule thar a man cannot say you Good ‘Morning without you clap him for defamation? You'e old, Giles, and you're not hearing as well as you did. COREY. John Proctor, I have only last month collected four pound damages for you publicly saying Tburned the roof off your house, and I~ PROCTOR. I never said no such thing, but I paid you for it, so 1 hhope I can call you deaf without charge. Come along, Giles, and help me drag my lumber home. 7COREY. ll be damned first! PUTNAM. A moment, Mister Proctor. What lumber is that you're draggin’ home, if T may ask you? PROCTOR. My lumber. From out my forest by the riverside, PUTNAM. Why, we are surely gone wild thisycar: what anarchy is this —that tract isin my bounds, i’ in my bounds, Mister Proctor. PROCTOR. In your bounds! 1 bought that tract from Goody ‘Nurse's husband five months ago. PUTNAM. He had no right to sell i, Iestands clear in my grand- father’s will chat all the land between the river and. PROCTOR. Your grandfather had 2 habit of willing land that never belonged to him, if I may say it plain, COREY, ‘That's God's cruth; he nearly willed away my north pasture buthe knew Fi break his fingers before he set his name to it. Let’ get your lumber home, John, | feel a sudden will to work coming on. PUTNAM. Youload one oak of mine and youll fight co drag it home! COREY. Aye, and welll win, too, Putnam—this foo! and I. Come on! PUTNAM. I'll have my men on you, Corey! I'll lap a writ on you! (Enter Reverend Jobn Hale, thirty-five, a ruds, bright young man. He is laded down with half a dozen heavy books.) HALE. Pray you, someone take these! (Putnam erases to Hale's ., helps him.) PARRIS. Mister Hale! Oh, its good to see you again! (Helping him 1s they cross D. to table.) My, they/ce heavy! HALF. (Putting books on table.) They must be, they are weighted with authority PARRIS, Well, you do come prepared! HALE. We shall need hard study, ifit comes to cracking down the (Old Boy. You cannot be Rebecca Nursc? REBECCA. Tam, sir. Do you know me? HALE. Its strange how] knew you, bur I suppose you look as such a good soul should. We have al hcard of your great charities in Beverly. PARRIS. Do you know this gentleman?—Mister'Thomas Putnam, ‘And his good wife Ann. HALE, Putnam! I had not expected such distinguished company, si PUINAM. Itdoes not scem to help us today, Mister Hale. We look {0 you to come to our house and save our child. HALE. Your child ails, too?! ANN. Her soul, her soul sccms flown away. She sleeps and yet she walks... 18,PUTNAM. She cannot eat. HALE. Cannot eat! (To Proctor and Corey.) Do you men al have alflcted children? PARRIS. No, no, these are farmers. John Proctor... COREY. He don't believe in witches. PROCTOR, I never spoke on witches one way or the othe: Will you come, Giles? ‘COREY. No—no, John, I think not. I have some few queer ques- tions of my own to ask this fellow. PROCTOR. I've heard you be a sensible man, Mister Hale—I hope you'll leave some of it in Salem. (Proctor goes out.) PARRIS. Will you look at my daughter, si? (Hale crsesk.t0 bed, allowed by Parris. Core follows to U. . of Parris, Leads Hale to she ‘bed,) She has tried to leap out the window; we discovered her this morning on the highroad, waving her arms as though she'd Ay. HALE. “Tries to fly? PUTNAM. She cannot bear to hear the Lord’s name, Mister Hale; that’ a sure sign of witchcraft afloat. HALE, No—no... Now let me instruct you. We cannot look to superstition in this. The Devil is precise; che marks of his presence tre definite as sone and we mus ook only for his proper ign and judge nothing beforehand, and I must tell you all that I shall not proceed unless you are prepared to believe me if1 should find no trace of hell in this. PARRIS. It is agreed, sir—it is agreed—we will abide by your i HALE. Good then. Now, sit, what were your first warning of chis strangeness? PARRIS. Why, sir... I discovered her... and my niece Abigiil and ten or twelve of the other girs, dancing in the forest lst night HALE. You permit dancing” PARRIS. No—no, it were secret... ANN. Mister Parts’ slave has knowledge of conjuri’, sir. PARRIS. We cannot be sure of that, Goody Ann... ANN, know i, sit. sent my child... she should learn from Tituba who murdered her sisters, REBECCA. Goody Ann! You sent child co conjure up the dead...? ANN, (Hysterical) Let God blame me, not you, not you, Rebeccal T'll not have you judging me any more! Mr. Hale, is it « natural ‘work to lose seven children before they live a day? vy