Martha. I pray your worships to ask the maid. Perchance, since she sees him, she can also hear what he saith better than I.
Hathorne. Why do you not tell how the devil comes in your shape and hurts these maids?
Martha. How can I tell how? I was never acquaint with the ways of the devil. I leave it to those wise maids who are so well acquaint to tell how. Perchance he hath whispered it in their ears.
Afflicted Girls. Oh, there is a yellow bird! There is a yellow bird perched on her head!
Hathorne. What say you to that, Goodwife Corey?
Martha. What can I say to such folly?
Hathorne. Constables, let go the hands of Martha Corey.
[The Constables let go her hands, and immediately there is a great outcry from the Afflicted Girls.
Afflicted Girls. She pinches us! Hold her hands! Hold her hands again! Oh! oh!
Ann. She is upon me again! She digs her fingers into my throat! Hold her hands! Hold her hands! She will be the death of me!