[Phoebe gets down and begins to crawl under the bed. Nancy tries to imitate her, but cannot bend herself.

Nancy. Oh, massy!  I’ve got a crick in my back, and I can’t double up.  What shall I do? (Tries to bend.) I can’t; no, I can’t!  ’Tis like a hot poker.  Massy! what ’ll I do?

Phoebe. You’ve got to, Nancy.  Quick! the latch is lifting.  Quick! quick!  I’ll push you.  No; I’ll pull you.  Here!

[Pulls Nancy down upon the floor, and rolls her under the bed; gets under herself just as the door is pushed open.

Enter Giles Corey in great excitement.

Giles (running across the room, and listening at the door leading to the chamber stairs).  Devil take them! why don’t they put an end to it?  Why do they let the poor lass be set upon this way?  Screeching so you can hear her all over Salem Village!  There! hear that, will ye?  Out upon them!  Widow Hutchins!  Widow Hutchins!  Can’t you give her some physic?  Sha’n’t I come up there with my musket?  Why don’t they find out who is so tormenting her and chain her up in prison?  ’Tis some witch or other.  Oh, I’d hang her; I’d tie the rope myself.  Poor lass! poor lass! [The door is pushed open, and Giles starts back.

Enter John Hathorne, Minister Parris, and Widow Hutchins.

Giles. Good-day, Widow Hutchins.  Shall I go up there with my musket?

Parris. I trow there be too many of thy household up there now.

Giles. I’d lay about me till I hit some of ’em.  I’ll warrant I would.  Oh, the poor lass! hear that!

Parris. She is a grievous case.

Giles. I heard the screeches out in the wood, and I ran in thinking I might do somewhat.  I would Martha were here.  I’ll be bound she’d laugh and scoff at it no longer!

Hathorne. Laugh and scoff, say you?

Giles. That she doth.  Martha acts as if the devil were in her about it.  She doth nothing but laugh at and make light of the afflicted children, and saith there be no witches.  She would not even believe ’twas aught out of the common when our ox and cat were took strangely.  If she were herself a witch she could be no more stiff-necked.

Parris. Doth she go out after nightfall?

Giles. That she doth, in spite of all I can say.  She hath no fear that an honest gospel woman should have in these times.  She went out last night, and I was so angered that I charged her with galloping a broomstick home.

Hathorne. Did she deny it?

Giles. She laughed as she is wont to do.  She even made a jest on’t, when I could not when I would go to prayer, and the words stayed beyond my wits.  I would she could be here now, and hear this!

Parris. Perchance she doth.

Giles. I’ll warrant she’d lose somewhat of her stiff-neckedness.  Hear that!  Can’t ye chain up the witch that’s tormenting the poor lass!  Is’t Goody Osborn?