Witchcraft | ||
96
SCENE IV.
—The place of Execution: Ambla Bodish with Officers and Deacon Gidney, Justice Fisk, Topsfield, Braybrook, Pudeater, a part of the Populace, Goodwife Prawl, &c. Ambla standing in the centre, under a tree,—against which a ladder leans—with the Justice and Deacon; when the scene changes, the characters slowly fall into position.Deacon G.
[To the Crowd.]
Stand back—and let the law, duly adjudged,
Seize hold upon this infamous woman!—
Make room, there!—nor crowd on us—your
Magistrates would deal justice becomingly.
[Voices without.]
We cannot hold him.
Deacon G.
What uproar 's that?
Enter Blacksmith.
Blacksmith.
'T is Gideon Bodish struggles with the officers—
As though he had the strength of fifty men.
Enter violently, Gideon Bodish, followed by Officers, Crowd, &c.
Gideon.
Away! away! Ye cannot keep me back,
Though all the unchained fiends should second you!
With her I'll die—fixed by her side, immovably.
[Going to his Mother.]
Fear not, mother, they shall not part us;
I'll be a rock 'gainst which this angry surf
Of men, shall dash and fall to nothingness.
Ambla.
My son, enrage them not—
97
My aged head is ready for the blow—
Oh, stay it not, for fear it crush thee too;
My child, I feel the icy hand of death
Is on my heart;—I soon shall be beyond
Their cruel power.
Deacon G.
Do you obstruct the law? Officers, go on
To instant execution; if he bar you,
Cut him down.
Gideon.
Aye, cut me down and her; tear us in pieces—
Trample beneath your feet with demon power,
And rack us as you will, in baffled hate—
She shall not die the felon's tainted death!
Strike! strike us both, as rooted here we stand—
Spectres have scared you—ye are spectres! seem
Men, and are not men—more cruel are ye,
In your rage, than witch-wielded whips of iron,
In your souless faces, more hideous far
Than clay-images, swarthy and magical,
And aisles of apparitioned murderers!—
See you,—a mother, here, most pure, most holy,
And here, a son, whose heart heaves its red bank,
Against your coming—advance upon us!
Here 's merely age and youth, against you all—
A verdict of our own we make, a death
To die, above your blind and bigot law!
Deacon G.
Kill him, if he dare resist: mad youth!
Hold off, or the black doom shall smite your head
With hers!
98
E'en in this hour of dreadest wo, I laugh at you!—
We are prepared to fall—but not as you
Would have us: She shall not die a witch's
Death, no hangman's infamous hand shall fret
Away her holy life: She is no witch,
But my dear mother still, to whom is due
All this arm's strength.
Blacksmith.
Down with Gideon Bodish!—Down with him!
Enter Jarvis Dane, R. U. E.
Jarvis.
Aye, down with him! He has earned it well—
The wronged Susanna 's dead, within this hour,
By her own frenzied hand, on Maple Hill—
He was the damned cause of her sad fate—
I looked upon her pale young corpse; I swore
I 'd have revenge—and thus I seek it!
Carpenter.
Spare him no longer, down with him!
[The Populace, with Jarvis Dane, rush upon Gideon, who, defending himself and Ambla, is overpowered, and falls, pierced by the sword of Jarvis Dane; with a cry of alarm Ambla sinks on her knees by the side of Gideon.]
Ambla.
Oh, God! they 've slain my boy, my hope, my all,
The darling of my age!
[Throws herself on the body.
Deacon G.
Lift you the woman from her dead son; let
The law hold on its course.
[They raise Ambla; her head falls on her breast.
99
The work is done—she is beyond the law.
Gideon.
[Reviving.]
Mother—where art thou, mother?
Oh, Heaven! she 's dead—raise me and let, once more,
My fading lips press hers, once more, once more—
[He dies.
Witchcraft | ||