Woman, woman! we pray thee to forbear! cried a voice from afar off.
I shall not forbear, Cotton Mather—it is your voice that I hear. But for you and such as you, miserable men that ye are, we should now be happy and at peace one with another. I shall not forbear—why should I? What have I done that I may not speak to the few that love me before we are parted by death?
Be prepared woman—if you will die, for the clock is about to strike said another voice.
Be prepared, sayest thou? William Phips, for I know the sound of thy voice too, thou hard-hearted miserable man! Be prepared, sayest thou? Behold——stretching forth her arms to the sky, and lifting herself up and speaking so that she was heard of the people on the house-tops afar off, Lo! I am ready! Be ye also ready, for now!—now!—even while I speak to you, he is preparing to reward both my accusers and my judges——.
He!—who!
Who, brother Joseph? said somebody in the crowd.
Why the Father of lies to be sure! what a question for you to ask, after having been of the jury!
Thou scoffer!—
Paul! Paul, beware!—
Hark—what’s that! Lord have mercy upon us!