ENDICOTT. 
It is sufficient.  Edith Christison,
The sentence of the Court is, that you be
Scourged in three towns, with forty stripes save one,
Then banished upon pain of death!

EDITH. 
                       Your sentence
Is truly no more terrible to me
Than had you blown a feather into the the air,
And, as it fell upon me, you had said,
Take heed it hurt thee not!  God’s will he done!

WENLOCK CHRISTISON (unseen in the crowd). 
Woe to the city of blood!  The stone shall cry
Out of the wall; the beam from out the timber
Shall answer it!  Woe unto him that buildeth
A town with blood, and stablisheth a city
By his iniquity!

ENDICOTT. 
                  Who is it makes
Such outcry here?

CHRISTISON (coming forward). 
                I, Wenlock Christison!

ENDICOTT. 
Banished on pain of death, why come you here?

CHRISTISON. 
I come to warn you that you shed no more
The blood of innocent men!  It cries aloud
For vengeance to the Lord!

ENDICOTT. 
                     Your life is forfeit
Unto the law; and you shall surely die,
And shall not live.

CHRISTISON. 
                    Like unto Eleazer,
Maintaining the excellence of ancient years
And the honor of his gray head, I stand before you;
Like him disdaining all hypocrisy,
Lest, through desire to live a little longer,
I get a stain to my old age and name!

ENDICOTT. 
Being in banishment, on pain of death,
You come now in among us in rebellion.

CHRISTISON. 
I come not in among you in rebellion,
But in obedience to the Lord of heaven. 
Not in contempt to any Magistrate,
But only in the love I bear your souls,
As ye shall know hereafter, when all men
Give an account of deeds done in the body! 
God’s righteous judgments ye cannot escape.

ONE OF THE JUDGES. 
Those who have gone before you said the same,
And yet no judgment of the Lord hath fallen
Upon us.

CHRISTISON. 
       He but waiteth till the measure
Of your iniquities shall be filled up,
And ye have run your race.  Then will his wrath
Descend upon you to the uttermost! 
For thy part, Humphrey Atherton, it hangs
Over thy head already.  It shall come
Suddenly, as a thief doth in the night,
And in the hour when least thou thinkest of it!

ENDICOTT. 
We have a law, and by that law you die.

CHRISTISON. 
I, a free man of England and freeborn,
Appeal unto the laws of mine own nation!

ENDICOTT. 
There’s no appeal to England from this Court! 
What! do you think our statutes are but paper? 
Are but dead leaves that rustle in the wind? 
Or litter to be trampled under foot? 
What say ye, Judges of the Court,—­what say ye? 
Shall this man suffer death?  Speak your opinions.