Parris. Nay; the black man is enough for you.
Giles (forcing his way to his daughter). Here I be, lass; and it will go hard if the hussies can see the black man and old Giles in one place. Where be the black man now, jades?
Hathorne (angrily). Marshal!
Corwin (interposing). Nay, good Master Hathorne, let Goodman Corey keep his standing. The maid looks near swooning, and albeit his manner be rude, yet his argument hath somewhat of force. In truth, he and the black man cannot occupy one place. Mercy Lewis, see you now this black man anywhere?
Mercy. Yes, your worship.
Corwin. Where?
Mercy. Whispering in your worship's ear.
Parris. May the Lord protect his magistrates from the wiles of Satan, and maintain them in safety for the weal of his afflicted people!
Hathorne. This be going too far. This be presumption! Who of you now see the black man whispering to the worshipful esquire Jonathan Corwin?
Mercy. He is gone now out of the meeting-house. 'Twas but for a moment I saw him.