Paul. She spake like a martyr at the door of heaven.

Giles. Did they let her speak long?

Paul. They cut her short, Minister Parris saying, “Let not this firebrand of hell burn longer.”

Giles. Then they put the rope to her neck.  Martha had a fair neck when she was a maid.  Did she struggle much?

Paul. Not much.

Giles. Then they left her hanging there a space.  It was a wet day, and the rain pelted on her.  I remember it was a wet day.  The rain pelted on her, and the wind blew, and she swung in it.  I swear to thee, lass, I will make amends!  I will suffer twenty pangs for thy one.

Paul. ’Tis not you who should make amends.

Giles. I tell ye I did Martha harm.  When she chid my folly and the folly of others, I did bawl out at her, and say among folk things to her undoing, though I meant it not as they took it.  Now I will make amends, and the King himself shall not stop me.  Martha was a good wife.  I know not how I shall make myself seemly for the court this afternoon.  My coat has many stitches loose in it.  She was a good wife.  I will make amends to thee, lass; I swear I shall make amends to thee!  I will come where thou art by a harder road than the one I made thee go.

Paul. It was not you, goodman.  You overblame yourself.  Those foul-mouthed jades did it, and those bloodthirsty magistrates.

Giles. I tell ye I did part on’t.  I was wroth with her that she made light of this witch-work over which I was so mightily wrought up, and I said words that they twisted to her undoing.  Verily, words can be made to fit all fancies.  ’Twere safer to be mute—­as I’ll be this afternoon.

Paul. Goodman Corey, you must not think of this thing.  There is still some hope from the trial.  They will not dare murder you too.

Giles. There be some things in this world folks may not bear, but there be no wickedness they’ll stick at when they get started on the way to ’t.  ’Tis death in any case, and what would ye have me do?  Stand before their mad worships and those screeching jades, and plead as though I were before folk of sound mind and understanding?  Think ye I would so humble myself for naught?

Paul. But Olive!  I tell you ’twill kill her!  There may be a chance yet, and you should throw not away however small a one for Olive’s sake.  She can bear no more.

Giles. There is no chance, and if there were—­I tell ye if I had a hundred daughters, and every one such a maid as she, and every one were to break her heart, I would do this thing I have set myself to do.  There be that which is beyond human ties to force a man, there be that which is at the root of things.

Paul. We will have none of your goods, I tell you that, Giles Corey!