Abigail, quavering, as she sits: I would never hurt Betty. I love her dearly.
Now look you, child, your punishment will come in its
time. But if you trafficked with spirits in the forest I must know
it now, for surely my enemies will, and they will ruin me with it.
But we never conjured spirits.
Abigail
Parris
Betty
No more! I should have roared you down when first you told me your suspicion. But I wilted, and, like a Christian, I confessed. Confessed! Some dream I had must have mistaken you for god that day. But you’re not, you’re not, and let you remember it! Let you look sometimes for the goodness in me, and judge me not.
I do not judge you. The magistrate sits in your heart
that judges you. I never thought you but a good man, John—
with a smile—only somewhat bewildered.
You will not use me! I am no Sarah Good or Tituba.
I am John Proctor! You will not use me! It is no part of salvation
that you should use me!
I do not wish to—
Beguile me not! I blacken all of them when this is
nailed to the church the very day they hang for silence!
You have not sold your friends—
I have three children—how may I teach them to walk
like men in the world, and I sold my friends?
Proctor
Danforth
Proctor
Elizabeth
Abigail, quavering, as she sits: I would never hurt Betty. I love her dearly.
Now look you, child, your punishment will come in its
time. But if you trafficked with spirits in the forest I must know
it now, for surely my enemies will, and they will ruin me with it.
But we never conjured spirits.
Abigail
Parris
Betty
No more! I should have roared you down when first you told me your suspicion. But I wilted, and, like a Christian, I confessed. Confessed! Some dream I had must have mistaken you for god that day. But you’re not, you’re not, and let you remember it! Let you look sometimes for the goodness in me, and judge me not.
I do not judge you. The magistrate sits in your heart
that judges you. I never thought you but a good man, John—
with a smile—only somewhat bewildered.
You will not use me! I am no Sarah Good or Tituba.
I am John Proctor! You will not use me! It is no part of salvation
that you should use me!
I do not wish to—
Beguile me not! I blacken all of them when this is
nailed to the church the very day they hang for silence!
You have not sold your friends—
I have three children—how may I teach them to walk
like men in the world, and I sold my friends?
Proctor
Danforth
Proctor
Elizabeth
Abigail, quavering, as she sits: I would never hurt Betty. I love her dearly.
Now look you, child, your punishment will come in its
time. But if you trafficked with spirits in the forest I must know
it now, for surely my enemies will, and they will ruin me with it.
But we never conjured spirits.
Abigail
Parris
Betty
No more! I should have roared you down when first you told me your suspicion. But I wilted, and, like a Christian, I confessed. Confessed! Some dream I had must have mistaken you for god that day. But you’re not, you’re not, and let you remember it! Let you look sometimes for the goodness in me, and judge me not.
I do not judge you. The magistrate sits in your heart
that judges you. I never thought you but a good man, John—
with a smile—only somewhat bewildered.
You will not use me! I am no Sarah Good or Tituba.
I am John Proctor! You will not use me! It is no part of salvation
that you should use me!
I do not wish to—
Beguile me not! I blacken all of them when this is
nailed to the church the very day they hang for silence!
You have not sold your friends—
I have three children—how may I teach them to walk
like men in the world, and I sold my friends?
Proctor
Danforth
Proctor
Elizabeth
Abigail, quavering, as she sits: I would never hurt Betty. I love her dearly.
Now look you, child, your punishment will come in its
time. But if you trafficked with spirits in the forest I must know
it now, for surely my enemies will, and they will ruin me with it.
But we never conjured spirits.
Abigail
Parris
Betty
No more! I should have roared you down when first you told me your suspicion. But I wilted, and, like a Christian, I confessed. Confessed! Some dream I had must have mistaken you for god that day. But you’re not, you’re not, and let you remember it! Let you look sometimes for the goodness in me, and judge me not.
I do not judge you. The magistrate sits in your heart
that judges you. I never thought you but a good man, John—
with a smile—only somewhat bewildered.
You will not use me! I am no Sarah Good or Tituba.
I am John Proctor! You will not use me! It is no part of salvation
that you should use me!
I do not wish to—
Beguile me not! I blacken all of them when this is
nailed to the church the very day they hang for silence!
You have not sold your friends—
I have three children—how may I teach them to walk
like men in the world, and I sold my friends?
Proctor
Danforth
Proctor
Elizabeth