Corwin. Speak up, children. Did any other of ye see the black man whispering to me?
Afflicted Girls. No! no! no!
Corwin. Mercy Lewis, you say of a truth you saw him?
Mercy. Your worship, it may have been Minister Parris's shadow falling across the platform.
Corwin. This is but levity, and hath naught to do with the trial.
Hathorne. We will proceed with the examination. Widow Eunice Hutchins, produce the cape.
[Widow Hutchins comes forward, holding the cape by a corner.
Hathorne. Put it over your daughter's shoulders.
Hutchins. Oh, your worships, I pray you not! It will kill her!
Ann. Oh, do not! do not! It will kill me! Oh, mother, do not! Oh, your worships! Oh, Minister Parris!