MARTHA. Why will you harbor such delusions, Giles? Bewitched? Well, then it was John Gloyd bewitched them; I saw him even now take down the bars And turn them loose! They're only frolicsome.
COREY. The rascal!
MARTHA.
I was standing in the road,
Talking with Goodwife Proctor, and I saw him.
COREY. With Proctor's wife? And what says Goodwife Proctor?
MARTHA. Sad things indeed; the saddest you can hear Of Bridget Bishop. She's cried out upon!
COREY. Poor soul! I've known her forty year or more. She was the widow Wasselby, and then She married Oliver, and Bishop next. She's had three husbands. I remember well My games of shovel-board at Bishop's tavern In the old merry days, and she so gay With her red paragon bodice and her ribbons! Ah, Bridget Bishop always was a Witch!
MARTHA. They'll little help her now,—her caps and ribbons, And her red paragon bodice and her plumes, With which she flaunted in the Meeting-house! When next she goes there, it will be for trial.
COREY. When will that be?
MARTHA.
This very day at ten.
COREY. Then get you ready. We'll go and see it. Come; you shall ride behind me on the pillion.