Parris, pressed, turns on her: And what shall I say to them? That my daughter and niece I discovered dancing like heathen in the forest?
Parris turns now, with new fear, and goes to Betty, looks down at her, and then, gazing off.
Abigail: No, he’ll be comin’ up. Listen, now; if they be questioning us, tell them we danced - I told him as much already.
Abigail, in tears: I look for John Proctor that took me from my sleep and put knowledge in my heart! I never knew what pretense Salem was, I never knew the lying lessons I was taught by all these Christian women and their covenanted men! And now you bid me tear the light out of my eyes? I will not, I cannot! You loved me, John Proctor, and whatever sin it is, you love me yet! He turns abruptly to go out. She rushes to him. John, pity me, pity me!
Mrs. Putnam: I take it on my soul, but who else may surely tell us what person murdered my babies? Parris, horrified: Woman! Mrs. Putnam: They were murdered, Mr. Parris! And mark this proof! Last night my Ruth were ever so close to their little spirits; I know it, sir. For how else is she struck dumb now except some power of darkness would stop her mouth? It is a marvelous sign, Mr. Parris!
Hale: Tituba. You must have no fear to tell us who they are, do you understand? We will protect you. The Devil can never overcome a minister. You know that, do you not? Tituba, kisses Hale’s hand: Aye, sir, oh, I do. Hale: You have confessed yourself to witchcraft, and that speaks a wish to come to Heaven’s side. And we will bless you, Tituba. Tituba, deeply relieved: Oh, God bless you, Mr. Hale!