PROCTOR [hesitating, and with deep hatred of himself]. Good. Then her saintliness is done with. [ MARYbacks from him.] We will slide together into our pit; you will tell the court what you know.
MARY WARREN [in terror]. I cannot, they'll turn on me--
[ PROCTORstrides and catches her, and she is repeating, "I cannot, I cannot!"]
PROCTOR. My wife will never die for me! I will bring your guts into your mouth but that goodness will not die for me!
MARY WARREN [struggling to escape him]. I cannot do it, I cannot!
PROCTOR [grasping her by the throat as though he would strangle her]. Make your peace with it! Now Hell and Heaven grapple on our backs, and all our old pretense is ripped away--make your peace!
[He throws her to the floor, where she sobs, "I cannot, I cannot . . ." And now, half to himself, staring, and turning to the open door]
Peace. It is a providence, and no great change; we are only what we always were, but naked now. [He walks as though toward a great horror, facing the open sky.] Aye, naked! And the wind, God's icy wind, will blow!
[And she is over and over again sobbing, "I cannot, I cannot, I cannot," as
THE CURTAIN FALLS
THE VESTRY ROOM of the Salem meeting house, now serving as the anteroom of the General Court.
As the curtain rises, the room is empty, but for sunlight pouring through two high windows in the back wall. The room is solemn, even forbidding. Heavy beams jut out, boards of random widths make up the walls. At the right are two doors leading into the meeting house proper, where the court is being held. At the left another door leads outside.
There is a plain bench at the left, and another at the right. In the center a rather long meeting table, with stools and a considerable armchair snugged up to it.
Through the partitioning wall at the right we hear a prosecutor's voice, JUDGE HATHORNE'S, asking a question; then a woman's voice, MARTHA COREY'S, replying.