MARTHA comes to the door.

MARTHA. 
Oh these old friends and cronies of my husband,
These captains from Nantucket and the Cape,
That come and turn my house into a tavern
With their carousing!  Still, there’s something frank
In these seafaring men that makes me like them. 
Why, here’s a horseshoe nailed upon the doorstep! 
Giles has done this to keep away the Witches. 
I hope this Richard Gardner will bring him
A gale of good sound common-sense to blow
The fog of these delusions from his brain!

COREY (within). 
Ho!  Martha!  Martha!

Enter COREY. 
          Have you seen my saddle?

MARTHA. 
I saw it yesterday.

COREY. 
                 Where did you see it?

MARTHA. 
On a gray mare, that somebody was riding
Along the village road.

COREY. 
                Who was it?  Tell me.

MARTHA. 
Some one who should have stayed at home.

COREY (restraining himself). 
                            I see! 
Don’t vex me, Martha.  Tell me where it is.

MARTHA. 
I’ve hidden it away.

COREY. 
                     Go fetch it me.

MARTHA. 
Go find it.

COREY. 
     No.  I’ll ride down to the village
Bareback; and when the people stare and say,
“Giles Corey, where’s your saddle?” I will answer,
“A Witch has stolen it.”  How shall you like that!

MARTHA. 
I shall not like it.

COREY. 
                Then go fetch the saddle.
                         [Exit MARTHA.

If an old man will marry a young wife,
Why then—­why then—­why then—­he must spell Baker!

Enter MARTHA with the saddle, which she throws down.

MARTHA. 
There!  There’s the saddle.

COREY. 
                  Take it up.

MARTHA.  I won’t!

COREY. 
Then let it lie there.  I’ll ride to the village,
And say you are a Witch.

MARTHA. 
                   No, not that, Giles.

She takes up the saddle.

COREY. 
Now come with me, and saddle the gray mare
With your own hands; and you shall see me ride
Along the village road as is becoming
Giles Corey of the Salem Farms, your husband!
                                  [Exeunt.

SCENE II. —­ The Green in front of the Meeting-house in Salem village.  People coming and going.  Enter GILES COREY.

COREY. 
A melancholy end!  Who would have thought
That Bridget Bishop e’er would come to this? 
Accused, convicted, and condemned to death
For Witchcraft!  And so good a woman too!

A FARMER. 
Good morrow, neighbor Corey.

COREY (not hearing him). 
                        Who is safe? 
How do I know but under my own roof
I too may harbor Witches, and some Devil
Be plotting and contriving against me?