Why that are ... poh poh, poh—(pointing to Burroughs.)
Where to?
Where to Sir?—Take him away; away with him—pretty chap you are to be sure, not to know where to take a man to, after its all over with him—poh, poh, poh.
I say, Mr. Judge, none o’ that now—
Take the man away Sir. Do as you are bid.
Who—me—cried Burroughs, waking up from his fit of apathy and looking about on every side.
Away with him.
Judges—judges—hear me. Let me remain, I pray you, cried he, setting his back to the wall and lifting his loaded arms high up in the air—suffer me to stay here till the jury have said whether or no this heroic woman is worthy of death—I do beseech you!
Take him away, I tell you—what are ye afraid of?
Judges—men—I would that ye would have mercy, not on me, but on the people about me. I would that ye would suffer me to tarry here—in fetters—till the jury have given their verdict on Rachel Dyer. Suffer me to do so, I beseech you, and I will go away then, I swear to you, whithersoever it may please you, like a lamb to the slaughter. I swear this to you before God!—but, so help me God, I will not be carried away alive before. I will not stir, nor be stirred while I have power to lift my arms, or to do what you now see me do——