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What victory would the Devil have to win a soul already bad? It is the best the Devil wants, and who is better than the minister?

She’ll not answer me, y’see.Īh! The stoppage of a prayer – that is strange. I’m not sayin’ she’s touched the Devil, now, but I’d admire to know what books she reads and why she hides them. And then she close her book and walks out of the house, and suddenly – mark this – I could pray again! It discomfits me! Last night – mark this – I tried and tried and could not say my prayers. I have waked at night many a time and found her in a corner, readin’ of a book. Hale, I have always wanted to ask a learned man – what signifies the readin’ of strange books?Ĭome, Mr. I never spoke on witches one way or the other. I have some few queer questions of my own to ask this fellow. You load one oak of mine and you’ll fight to drag it home! Your grandfather had a habit of willing land that never belonged to him, if I may say it plain.Īye, and we’ll win too, Putnam- this fool and I. That’s God’s truth he nearly willed away my north pasture but he knew I’d break his fingers before he’d set his name to it. Is it the Devil’s fault that a man cannot say you good morning without you clap him for defamation? You’re old, Giles, and you’re not hearin’ so well as you did.

John Proctor, I have only last month collected four pound damages for you publicly sayin’ I burned the roof off your house, and I.

Wherefore is everybody suing everybody else? Think on it now, it’s a deep thing, and dark as a pit. It suggests to the mind what the trouble be among us all these years. What say you, Giles, let’s find the party. Parris, I beg your pardon, I never thought you had so much iron in you. I’ve changed my opinion of this man, John. Proctor! I am not some preaching farmer with a book under my arm I am a graduate of Harvard college.

I am waiting since November for a stick, and even in November I had to show my frostbitten hands like some London beggar. Where is my wood? My contract provides I be supplied with all my firewood. You are allowed six pound a year to buy your wood, Mr. There is hard sickness here, Giles Corey, so please to keep the quiet. Is she going to fly again? I hear she flies. I’ve not said a word, No one can testify I’ve said a word.

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