The Crucible by Arthur Miller
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.
DANFORTH: Mad?
HATHORNE: I met him yesterday coming out of his house, and I bid him good morning—and he wept and went his way. I think it is not well the village sees him so unsteady.
DANFORTH: Perhaps he have some sorrow.
CHEEVER, stamping his feet against the cold: I think it be the cows, sir.
DANFORTH: Cows?
CHEEVER: There be so many cows wanderin’ the highroads, now their masters are in the jails, and much disagreement who they will belong to now. I know Mr. Parris be arguin’ with farmers all yesterday—there is great contention, sir, about the cows. Contention make him weep, sir; it were always a man that weep for contention. He turns, as do Hathorne and Danforth, hearing someone coming up the corridor. Danforth raises his head as Parris enters. He is gaunt, frightened, and sweating in his greatcoat.
PARRIS, to Danforth, instantly: Oh, good morning, sir, thank you for coming, I beg your pardon wakin’ you so early. Good morning, Judge Hathorne.
DANFORTH: Reverend Hale have no right to enter this—
PARRIS: Excellency, a moment. He hurries back and shuts the door.
HATHORNE: Do you leave him alone with the prisoners?
DANFORTH: What’s his business here?
PARRIS, prayerfully holding up his hands: Excellency, hear me. It is a providence. Reverend Hale has returned to bring
DANFORTH, surprised: He bids her confess?
PARRIS, sitting: Hear me. Rebecca have not given me a word this three month since she came. Now she sits with him, and her sister and Martha Corey and two or three others, and he pleads with them, confess their crimes and save their lives.
DANFORTH: Why—this is indeed a providence. And they soften, they soften?
PARRIS: Not yet, not yet. But I thought to summon you, sir, that we might think on whether it be not wise, to—He dares not say it. I had thought to put a question, sir, and I hope you will not—
DANFORTH : Mr. Parris, be plain, what troubles you?
PARRIS: There is news, sir, that the court—the court must reckon with. My niece, sir, my niece—I believe she has vanished.
DANFORTH: Vanished!
PARRIS: I had thought to advise you of it earlier in the week, but—
DANFORTH: Why? How long is she gone?
PARRIS: This be the third night. You see, sir, she told me she would stay a night with Mercy Lewis. And next day, when she does not return, I send to Mr. Lewis to inquire. Mercy told him she would sleep in my house for a night.
DANFORTH: They are both gone?!
PARRIS, in fear of him: They are, sir.
DANFORTH, alarmed: I will send a party for them. Where may they be?
PARRIS: Excellency, I think they be aboard a ship. Danforth stands agape. My daughter tells me how she heard them speaking of ships last week, and tonight I discover my—my strongbox is broke into. He presses his fingers against his eyes to keep back tears.
HATHORNE, astonished: She have robbed you?
PARRIS: Thirty-one pound is gone. I am penniless. He covers his face and sobs.
DANFORTH: Mr. Parris, you are a brainless man! He walks in thought, deeply worried.
PARRIS: Excellency, it profit nothing you should blame me. I cannot think they would run off except they fear to keep in Salem any more. He is pleading. Mark it, sir, Abigail had close knowledge of the town, and since the news of Andover has broken here—
DANFORTH : Andover is remedied. The court returns there on Friday, and will resume examinations.
PARRIS: I am sure of it, sir. But the rumor here speaks rebellion in Andover, and it—
DANFORTH: There is no rebellion in Andover!
PARRIS: I tell you what is said here, sir. Andover have thrown out the court, they say, and will have no part of witchcraft. There be a faction here, feeding on that news, and I tell you true, sir, I fear there will be riot here.
HATHORNE: Riot! Why at every execution I have seen naught but high satisfaction in the town.
PARRIS: Judge Hathorne—it were another sort that hanged till now. Rebecca Nurse is no Bridget that lived three year with Bishop before she married him. John Proctor is not Isaac Ward that drank his family to ruin. To Danforth: I would to God it were not so, Excellency, but these people have great weight yet in the town. Let Rebecca stand upon the gibbet and send up some righteous prayer, and I fear she’ll wake a vengeance on you.
HATHORNE: Excellency, she is condemned a witch. The court have—
DANFORTH, in deep concern, raising a hand to Hathorne: Pray you. To Parris: How do you propose, then?
PARRIS: Excellency, I would postpone these hangin’s for a time.
DANFORTH: There will be no postponement.
PARRIS: Now Mr. Hale’s returned, there is hope, I think—for if he bring even one of these to God, that confession surely damns the others in the public eye, and none may doubt more that they are all linked to Hell. This way, unconfessed and claiming innocence, doubts are multiplied, many honest people will weep for them, and our good purpose is lost in their tears.
DANFORTH, after thinking a moment, then going to Cheever: Give me the list.
Cheever opens the dispatch case, searches.
PARRIS: It cannot be forgot, sir, that when I summoned the congregation for John Proctor’s excommunication there were hardly thirty people come to hear it. That speak a discontent, I think, and—
DANFORTH, studying the list: There will be no postponement.
PARRIS: Excellency—
DANFORTH: Now, sir—which of these in your opinion may be brought to God? I will myself strive with him till dawn. He hands the list to Parris, who merely glances at it.
PARRIS: There is not sufficient time till dawn.
DANFORTH: I shall do my utmost. Which of them do you have hope for?
PARRIS, not even glancing at the list now, and in a quavering voice, quietly: Excellency—a dagger—He chokes up.
DANFORTH: What do you say?
PARRIS: Tonight, when I open my door to leave my house—a dagger clattered to the ground. Silence. Danforth absorbs this. Now Parris cries out: You cannot hang this sort. There is danger for me. I dare not step outside at night!
Reverend Hale enters. They look at him for an instant in silence. He is steeped in sorrow, exhausted, and more direct than he ever was.
DANFORTH: Accept my congratulations, Reverend Hale; we are gladdened to see you returned to your good work.
HALE, coming to Danforth now: You must pardon them. They will not budge.
Herrick enters, waits.
DANFORTH, conciliatory: You misunderstand, sir; I cannot pardon these when twelve are already hanged for the same crime. It is not just.
PARRIS, with failing heart: Rebecca will not confess?
HALE: The sun will rise in a few minutes. Excellency, I must have more time.
DANFORTH: Now hear me, and beguile yourselves no more. I will not receive a single plea for pardon or postponement. Them that will not confess will hang. Twelve are already executed; the names of these seven are given out, and the village expects to see them die this morning. Postponement now speaks a floundering on my part; reprieve or pardon must cast doubt upon the guilt of them that died till now. While I speak God’s law, I will not crack its voice with whimpering. If retaliation is your fear, know this—I should hang ten thousand that dared to rise against the law, and an ocean of salt tears could not melt the resolution of the statutes. Now draw yourselves up like men and help me, as you are bound by Heaven to do. Have you spoken with them all, Mr. Hale?
HALE: All but Proctor. He is in the dungeon.
DANFORTH, to Herrick: What’s Proctor’s way now?
HERRICK: He sits like some great bird; you’d not know he lived except he will take food from time to time.
DANFORTH, after thinking a moment: His wife—his wife must be well on with child now.
HERRICK: She is, sir.
DANFORTH: What think you, Mr. Parris? You have closer knowledge of this man; might her presence soften him?
PARRIS: It is possible, sir. He have not laid eyes on her these three months. I should summon her.
DANFORTH, to Herrick: Is he yet adamant? Has he struck at you again?
HERRICK: He cannot, sir, he is chained to the wall now.
DANFORTH, after thinking on it: Fetch Goody Proctor to me. Then let you bring him up.
HERRICK: Aye, sir. Herrick goes. There is silence.
HALE: Excellency, if you postpone a week and publish to the town that you are striving for their confessions, that speak mercy on your part, not faltering.
DANFORTH: Mr. Hale, as God have not empowered me like Joshua to stop this sun from rising, so I cannot withhold from them the perfection of their punishment.
HALE, harder now: If you think God wills you to raise rebellion, Mr. Danforth, you are mistaken!
DANFORTH, instantly: You have heard rebellion spoken in the town?
HALE: Excellency, there are orphans wandering from house to house; abandoned cattle bellow on the highroads, the stink of rotting crops hangs everywhere, and no man knows when the harlots’ cry will end his life—and you wonder yet if rebellion’s spoke? Better you should marvel how they do not burn your province!
DANFORTH: Mr. Hale, have you preached in Andover this month?
HALE: Thank God they have no need of me in Andover.
DANFORTH: You baffle me, sir. Why have you returned here?
HALE: Why, it is all simple. I come to do the Devil’s work. I come to counsel Christians they should belie themselves. His sarcasm collapses. There is blood on my head! Can you not see the blood on my head!!
PARRIS: Hush! For he has heard footsteps. They all face the door. Herrick enters with Elizabeth. Her wrists are linked by heavy chain, which Herrick now removes. Her clothes are dirty; her face is pale and gaunt. Herrick goes out.
DANFORTH, very politely: Goody Proctor. She is silent. I hope you are hearty?
ELIZABETH, as a warning reminder: I am yet six month before my time.
DANFORTH: Pray be at your ease, we come not for your life. We—uncertain how to plead, for he is not accustomed to it. Mr. Hale, will you speak with the woman?
HALE: Goody Proctor, your husband is marked to hang this morning.
Pause.
ELIZABETH, quietly: I have heard it.
HALE: You know, do you not, that I have no connection with the court? She seems to doubt it. I come of my own, Goody Proctor. I would save your husband’s life, for if he is taken I count myself his murderer. Do you understand me?
ELIZABETH: What do you want of me?
HALE: Goody Proctor, I have gone this three month like our Lord into the wilderness. I have sought a Christian way, for damnation’s doubled on a minister who counsels men to lie.
HATHORNE: It is no lie, you cannot speak of lies.
HALE: It is a lie! They are innocent!
DANFORTH: I’ll hear no more of that!
HALE, continuing to Elizabeth: Let you not mistake your duty as I mistook my own. I came into this village like a bridegroom to his beloved, bearing gifts of high religion; the very crowns of holy law I brought, and what I touched with my bright confidence, it died; and where I turned the eye of my great faith, blood flowed up. Beware, Goody Proctor—cleave to no faith when faith brings blood. It is mistaken law that leads you to sacrifice. Life, woman, life is God’s most precious gift; no principle, however glorious, may justify the taking of it. I beg you, woman, prevail upon your husband to confess. Let him give his lie. Quail not before God’s judgment in this, for it may well be God damns a liar less than he that throws his life away for pride. Will you plead with him? I cannot think he will listen to another.