You are afraid, I see—
Afraid of what? Man—man—it is you and your fellows that are afraid. Ye are men of a terrible faith—I am not.
You have only to say yes or no, said Judge Sewall.
What mockery! Ye that have buried them that were precious to you—very precious—
You are not obliged to answer that question, whispered the lawyer, who had been at his elbow during the trial of Martha Cory—nor any other—unless you like—
Ah—and are you of them that believe the story? Are you afraid of their keeping their promise?—you that have a—
What say you to the charge? I ask again!
How dare you!—ye that are husbands—you that are a widower like me, how dare you put such a question as that to a bereaved man, before the Everlasting God?
What say you to the charge? We ask you for the third time.
Father of love! cried Burroughs, and he tottered away and snatched at the bare wall, and shook as if he were in the agony of death, and all that saw him were aghast with fear. Men—men—what would ye have me say?—what would ye have me do?