Thus much for the evidence, gentlemen of the jury; I proceed now to remark on what has been urged for the—officer—officer ... look to your prisoner!
O, I am so tired and so sleepy! said Martha a getting up, and trying to pass the sheriff, who stood by her with a drawn sword. Let me go, will you!—get out o’ the way and let me go—what’s the use o’ keeping me here; I’ve told you all ’t I know o’ the job. Do let poor Martha go!
Gracious God!—Father of Love! cried Burroughs, what an appeal to the executioners of the law! Did you not hear it, ye judges? Do you not see her now, tottering away ... the poor bewildered creature.
Have done Sir.
Dear brother—if we are wise we shall be not be strict with him here—let us give the world nothing to complain of, our duty require it, policy requires it—ah!
Prisoner at the bar—go back to your seat: Officer—officer—
She don’t hear a word you say, Mr. Judge.
Martha Cory—Martha!
Well, here I be, Mister Capun Sewall; what d’ye want o’ me?
Go back to your seat, Martha.