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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:55:08 -0700 |
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diff --git a/31112-h/31112-h.htm b/31112-h/31112-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b59ca74 --- /dev/null +++ b/31112-h/31112-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4043 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Scarlet Stigma, by James Edgar Smith. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + +body { + font-size: 100%; + max-width: 100%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + +h1,h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; + } + +h1 {letter-spacing: 0.1em;} + +h3 { + font-variant: small-caps; + display:inline; + } + +div.scn {margin-top: 2.5em; margin-bottom: 2.5em;} + + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: left; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 1em; + } + + + +div.left { + float: left; + width: auto; + padding: 0 .5em 0 0; + margin: 0; + } + + .left p { + margin-top: 0; + text-align: left; + margin-bottom: 0; + text-indent: 1em; + } + + .left .p000l { + margin-top: 0; + text-align: left; + margin-bottom: 0; + text-indent: 0; + } + +.p00 {text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0; } + +.pt00 {text-indent: 1em; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0;} + +.p000 {text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0;} + +.rgh {text-align: right; margin-bottom: .75em; text-indent: 0;} + +.rgh0 {text-align: right; text-indent: 0; margin-bottom: 0;} + +.rgh00 {text-align: right; text-indent: 0; margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0;} + + +hr { + width: 5em; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + color: silver; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } + +.retop { + font-size: .75em; + position: absolute; + right: 97%; + text-align: left; + font-variant: normal; + font-weight: normal; + text-decoration: none; + text-indent: 0em; + } + + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps; font-style: normal;} + +.fsmcap {font-size: .8em; font-style: normal;} + +.fh2 {font-size: 1.5em; font-weight: bold; letter-spacing: .1em;} + + +table {margin-left: 1em;} + td {vertical-align: top; text-align: left; } + td.llr {vertical-align: top; text-align: left; padding-left: 1em;} + td.ctr {vertical-align: top; text-align: center;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid black 1px;} + .bt {border-top: solid black 1px;} + .br {border-right: solid black 1px;} + + + +.cstpbx { + text-align: center; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + } + +.cstpbx .cstp {text-align: left; margin: 0 0 .75em 0} + +.i0 {margin-left: 0em; } +.ih {margin-left: 0.5em;} +.i1 {margin-left: 1em; } +.i2 {margin-left: 2em; } +.i4 {margin-left: 4em; } +.i6 {margin-left: 6em; } +.i8 {margin-left: 8em; } +.i10 {margin-left: 10em; } +.i12 {margin-left: 12em; } +.i14 {margin-left: 14em; } +.i16 {margin-left: 16em; } + +.trns {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: 1em; } +table.transnotes {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; text-align: left;} +.tdleft {vertical-align: top; padding-right: 1em; padding-left: 2em;} + +a:active {outline:#ffee66 solid 2px; background-color:#ffee66;} +a:focus {outline:#ffee66 solid 2px; background-color:#ffee66;} + + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Scarlet Stigma, by James Edgar Smith + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Scarlet Stigma + A Drama in Four Acts + +Author: James Edgar Smith + +Release Date: January 28, 2010 [EBook #31112] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCARLET STIGMA *** + + + + +Produced by Sigal Alon and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="trns"> + + <p><i><a name="top" id="top">— etext navigation —</a></i></p> + + <p class="i2"><b><a href="#Stigmatization">Stigmatization</a></b></p> + + <p class="i2"><b><a href="#PERSONS_REPRESENTED">Persons Represented</a></b></p> + + <table class="transnotes" summary="Acts and Scenes"> + <tr> + <td class="tdleft"><b><a href="#Act_I">Act I</a></b> + </td> + <td><a href="#Act_I_ScI">Scene I</a><br /> + <a href="#Act_I_ScII">Scene II</a><br /> + <a href="#Act_I_ScIII">Scene III</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdleft"><b><a href="#Act_II">Act II</a></b> + </td> + <td><a href="#Act_II_ScI">Scene I</a><br /> + <a href="#Act_II_ScII">Scene II</a><br /> + <a href="#Act_II_ScIII">Scene III</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdleft"><b><a href="#Act_III">Act III</a></b> + </td> + <td><a href="#Act_III_ScI">Scene I</a><br /> + <a href="#Act_III_ScII">Scene II</a><br /> + <a href="#Act_III_ScIII">Scene III</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="tdleft"><b><a href="#Act_IV">Act IV</a></b> + </td> + <td><a href="#Act_IV_ScI">Scene I</a><br /> + <a href="#Act_IV_ScII">Scene II</a> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + + <p class="i2"><b><a href="#Transcriber">Transcriber's Note</a></b></p> + +</div> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h1>The Scarlet Stigma</h1> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center fh2">A Drama<br /> +In Four Acts</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center fsmcap">By</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">James Edgar Smith</span>.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center">Founded upon Nathaniel Hawthorne's Novel,<br /> +"The Scarlet Letter."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><span class="fsmcap">WASHINGTON, D.C.</span><br /> +JAMES J. CHAPMAN,<br /> +<span class="fsmcap">1899.</span></p> + + + + +<p class="center fsmcap">Copyright, 1899, by JAMES EDGAR SMITH.</p> +<hr /> +<p class="center fsmcap">All rights reserved.</p> + +<p class="center fsmcap">Press of George S. Krouse. Bindery of Edwin F. Price.</p> + +<p class="center fsmcap">WASHINGTON, D.C.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p><a name="Stigmatization" id="Stigmatization">Stigmatization</a> is a rare incident of ecstasy. Not +many well authenticated cases have been reported by competent +medical authorities, and yet there can be no doubt of +its occasional occurrence. See Encyclopaedia Britannica, +article on Stigmatization by Dr. Macalister, and references +therein cited; also the work on Nervous and Mental Diseases +by Dr. Landon Carter Gray, page 511. That it may +occur in men of a high order of ability is instanced by the +case of St. Francis of Assisi.</p> + +<p>It ought not to be necessary to point out that the entire +third scene in the second act of this play is a dramatic transcript +from the diseased consciousness of Mr. Dimsdell, that +the Satan of the play is an hallucination, and that the impress +of the stigma upon Dimsdell's breast is merely the +culmination of his auto-hypnotic ecstasy, or trance.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><span class="fsmcap"><a name="PERSONS_REPRESENTED" id="PERSONS_REPRESENTED">PERSONS REPRESENTED.</a></span></h2> + + +<div class="cstpbx" style="max-width: 24em"> + <div class="cstp"> + ROGER PRYNNE, called <i>Chillingworth</i>, a physician.<br /> + ARTHUR DIMSDELL, a youthful divine.<br /> + JOHN WILSON, a good old minister.<br /> + BELLINGHAM, Governor of the Colony.<br /> + BUTTS, a sea captain.<br /> + SATAN, an hallucination of Dimsdell's.<br /> + <table style="margin-left: 0pt;" summary="" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"> + <tr> + <td>BRONSON,<br />WARD,<br />LANGDON,<br />ARNOLD,</td> + <td class="bt br bb"><span class="ih"> </span></td> + <td style="vertical-align: middle;"><span class="ih">Members of the Governor's Council.</span></td> + </tr> + </table> + DIGGORY, a servant to Governor Bellingham.<br /> + </div> + <div class="cstp"> + HESTER PRYNNE, wife of Roger Prynne.<br /> + MARTHA WILSON, daughter of Rev. John Wilson.<br /> + URSULA, a nurse.<br /> + BETSEY, a milkmaid.<br /> + MOTHER CAREY, keeper of a sailor's inn.<br /> + </div> + + + <p class="center"><i>A Clerk, a Crier, a Jailer, Councilors, Citizens, Soldiers,<br /> + Sailors, Indians, Servants.</i></p> + + <div class="left"> + SCENE—<i>Boston</i>. + </div> + <p class="rgh">TIME—<i>June, 1668</i>.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h1><a name="THE_SCARLET_STIGMA" id="THE_SCARLET_STIGMA">THE SCARLET STIGMA.</a></h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><span class="smcap"><a name="Act_I" id="Act_I">Act I.</a></span></h2> + + +<div class="scn"><h3><a name="Act_I_ScI" id="Act_I_ScI">Scene I.</a></h3>—<i>A tavern and a street in front of it. Settles on +porch. <span class="smcap">Sailors</span> smoking and drinking. Enter <span class="smcap">Captain +Butts</span>, singing.</i></div> + + <table> + <tr> + <td style="width: 3em;"><i>Butts.</i> + </td> + <td class="llr"><i>The Margery D. was a trim little ship,</i><br /> + <i>The men they could man, and the skipper could skip;</i><br /> + <i>She sailed from her haven one fine summer day,</i><br /> + <i>And she foundered at sea in the following <span style="white-space: nowrap;">way,—</span></i><br /> + </td> + </tr> + <tr><td> </td> + <td class="ctr"><i>To-wit:</i><br /><br /> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><i>All.</i> + </td> + <td class="llr"><i>A-rinkety, clinkety, clink, clank, clank,</i><br /> + <i>The liquor they bathed in, the spirits they drank;</i><br /> + <i>A sailor at sea with three sheets in the wind</i><br /> + <i>Can hardly be called, sirs, quite sober.</i><br /> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Mother Carey</span>, from Tavern.</i></p> + +<p><i>Carey.</i> Cap'n! Cap'n Butts! Gen'le gen'lemen! would + +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> + +ye rune a pore widdy woman by a singing of sech filthy +tunes? And me up for my license again nex' Tuesday!</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Butts.</i> Peace! Peace, Mother Carey, hear your chickens +screech! Come, boys!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Singing.</i></p> + + <table> + <tr> + <td style="width: 3em;"> + </td> + <td class="llr"><i>The captain was thirsty, and so was each man,</i><br /> + <i>They ladled the grog out by cup and by can,</i><br /> + <i>The night it was stormy, they knew not the place,</i><br /> + <i>And they sang as they sank the following <span style="white-space: nowrap;">grace,—</span></i><br /> + </td> + </tr> + <tr><td></td> + <td class="ctr"><i>To-wit:</i><br /><br /> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><i>All.</i> + </td> + <td class="llr"><i>A-sinkety, sinkety, sink, sank, sunk,</i><br /> + <i>Our captain is tipsy, our mate is quite drunk,</i><br /> + <i>Our widows we leave to the world's tender care</i><br /> + <i>And we don't give a damn for the Devil!</i><br /> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + +<p class="center">Ha! Ha! Ha!</p> + +<p><i>Carey.</i> O, Lord! O, Lord! If the magistrates should hear +that song, they'd close my place!</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> There, there now. [<i>Chucks her under the chin.</i>] +The magistrates are not as quick to hear a sailor sing as +thou art to take his orders. Bring us a pint apiece.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Carey.</i> Thou naughty man! [<i>Slaps his jaws.</i>] A pint +apiece?</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Butts.</i> Aye. Now, lads, bargain out your time; ye'll +not see a petticoat for many a day.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Lights pipe and sits.</i></p> + +<p><i>Sailors.</i> Aye, aye, sir.</p> + +<p class="center"><i><span class="smcap">Citizens</span> cross stage, singly and in groups, all going in the same +direction. Enter <span class="smcap">Mother Carey</span> from house with ale, serves it, +looks up and down street as in expectation of some one, then goes in.</i></p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Butts.</i> Mother Carey's lost one of her chicks. Here lads! +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +here's to the mousey Puritan lassies! They won't dance, +they can't sing—Ah! well! here's to them till we come +again!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>All drink.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter along the street two <span class="smcap">Councilors</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Arnold.</i> 'Tis very true; but, sir, though many break +this law and go unpunished, our godly Company should +not wink at known adultery.</p> + +<p><i>Langdon.</i> In other words, we must find scape-goats to +bear our sins.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Arnold.</i> Nay, not exactly that. We vindicate God's +laws, <span style="white-space: nowrap;">and——</span></p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Exeunt Councilors.</i></p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> He must be Privy Councilor to the Lord Himself!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter a group of <span class="fsmcap">WOMEN</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>First Woman.</i> Her beauty, say'st thou? Pretty is as +pretty does, say I. I'd beauty her! Go to! Who knows +the father of her brat; can any tell?</p> + +<p><i>Second Woman.</i> Thou dost not doubt thy goodman?</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>First Woman.</i> Trust none of them. I know mine own; +dost thou know thine? As for her she hath shamed our +sex, and I <span style="white-space: nowrap;">would—</span></p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Exeunt Women.</i></p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> God's-my-life, there's more poison in their tongues +than in a nest of rattlesnakes? What's all this pother, +lads?</p> + +<p><i>Sailor.</i> There's a trial, sir, on a charge of bastardy.</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> Ha! ha! ha! You rogues had better ship elsewhere; +if the wind sits in that quarter, you'll find foul +weather here.</p> + +<p><i>Sailors.</i> Ha! ha! ha!</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>More people cross the stage.</i></p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> Cheapside on a holiday!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Re-enter <span class="smcap">Mother Carey</span>, dressed for walking.</i></p> + +<p><i>Carey.</i> O, dear! O, dear! I'll be late; I'm sure I'll be +late. Oh! dear, dear, dear! why will that Ursula still lag?</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> What's the matter, Mother?</p> + +<p><i>Carey.</i> Matter? Matter enough! a gentlewoman tried +for adultery and me sure to miss it all! [<i>Looks around.</i>] +Why doesn't Ursula come? O, dear! O, dear!—why, +here she is!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Ursula</span>.</i></p> + +<p>What kept thee, Ursula?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Such a crowd! Whew! I'm out o' breath. +[<i>Sits; one or two pass over.</i>] The town's run mad to look +upon a gentlewoman shamed. [<i>Citizens still pass.</i>] Ah! +there's no room for me now, but when her labor came God +knows there was no press! I had room enough then, not +one would lend a hand—fie! they are serpents, all of them; +they have double tongues to hiss, but ne'er a hand to help.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Carey.</i> Still talking to herself. Here, Ursula, take the +keys and wait upon the gentlemen.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Hands keys to Ursula and exit up street.</i></p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Let the gentlemen wait on me awhile.</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> Would you have us die of thirst, Ursula?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> What will you have, Captain?</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p class="pt00"><i>Butts.</i> Stingo, Ursula, stingo!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Exit Ursula in tavern.</i></p> + +<p class="p000">What say you, lads, shall we see this trial?</p> + +<p><i>Sailor.</i> Aye, aye, sir, the woman's fair to look upon.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> Then let us get our ballast in, hoist sail and +tack away.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Re-enter <span class="smcap">Ursula</span> with ale.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Who is it, Ursula, they try?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> A gentle lady, sir. God's-my-life, had no man +tempted her—but, that's your ways, you tempt us, blame +us when we yield, and then make laws to punish us.</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> But, what's her name?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> What should it be but Hester Prynne?</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> Hester Prynne? The gentle Mistress Prynne +I brought from Amsterdam three years ago?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> The same, God bless her.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Butts.</i> My lads, don't wait for me.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh0">[<i>Exeunt Sailors.</i></p> +<p class="p00">I knew her husband, Ursula; a man<br /> +Well versed in all the wisdom of the time;<br /> +Somewhat well gone in years, but lovable<br /> +Beyond the shallowness of youth, and rich<br /> +In mellow charity. Oft hath he sailed<br /> +With me from port to port where learning drew him,<br /> +And still came richer home. One day he shipped<br /> +For Amsterdam and brought his bride, who, like<br /> +A hawthorn in its pink of youth that blushes<br /> +'Neath the shadow of an ancient elm,<br /> +Shed spring-time sweetness round his green old age.<br /> +I've seen them often in their Holland home,<br /> +Where wisdom laid its treasures at the feet<br /> +Of love, and beauty crowned the offering.<br /> +She was a lovely lady, Ursula,<br /> +And when her lord, still bent on learning more,<br /> +Resolved to come out to <span style="white-space: nowrap;">America—</span><br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +His own affairs then calling him to <span style="white-space: nowrap;">England—</span><br /> +He placed her in my care, intending soon<br /> +To follow her. He did, but curséd fate!<br /> +His ship was lost—no one knows where!</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> <span style="margin-left: 12em;">Alack</span><br /> +The day! She had not sinned had he been here.</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> But, didst thou know her, Ursula, as I<br /> +Have known her, wisely good and true, thou wouldst<br /> +Have wondered more.</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Know her, sir! I nursed her!</span></p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> Thou, Ursula?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> <span style="margin-left: 7em;">None but I!</span></p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> Where were her friends?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">Where, but at home! Dear heart,</span><br /> +They shunned her like the plague—though if the truth<br /> +Were known, many that shun her now would keep<br /> +Her company perforce. None came near<br /> +But pious Master Dimsdell, and even he<br /> +Came only out of duty to her soul;<br /> +He told me so.</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> <span style="margin-left: 6em;">The Reverend Master Dimsdell</span><br /> +And thou her only comforters?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> <span style="margin-left: 12em;">Nay,</span><br /> +The little bairn was her greatest comfort, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> How doth she bear her trouble, Ursula?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Like a good woman, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> <span style="margin-left: 12em;">She yet is that!</span><br /> +But have you never learned her lover's name?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Nay, I never have.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> <span style="margin-left: 11em;">'Tis strange that she</span><br /> +Should fall; and then endeavor to conceal<br /> +Her lover! Noble, wise and beautiful,<br /> +No other than a man of mark could win her!</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> A three years widow, baby three months old,<br /> +A coward run-a-gate of a lover, <span style="white-space: nowrap;">sir—</span><br /> +Tell me, is there no exception made<br /> +By law for widows?</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> <span style="margin-left: 7em;">None, of which I know.</span></p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> The law is hard indeed!</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> <span style="margin-left: 13em;">I wonder if</span><br /> +A rough sea-dog like me might speak a word<br /> +For her?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Aye, that you might! Go seek the good<br /> +Old Doctor Wilson, mercy dwells with him,<br /> +And he will aid you, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Butts.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">I'll go at once.</span></p> + +<p class="rgh">[<i>Exeunt severally, Butts up street, Ursula in tavern.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Roger Prynne</span>, travel stained.</i></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> We are not masters of our paths, although<br /> +Our wills do seem to guide our faltering steps:<br /> +Ship voyagers are we, and roam at will<br /> +Within the narrow confines of the deck,<br /> +But neither plot nor steer the destined course.<br /> +I may have passed her house—I'll ask my way<br /> +Here at the inn. Long live King Boniface!<br /> +What ho! some wine!</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> [<i>Within</i>] Your patience, Captain, I'll be there +anon.</p> + +<div class="left"> + <p><i>Roger.</i> At your leisure, hostess; I've learned to wait.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh0">[<i>Sits.</i></p> +<p class="p00">A bachelor at sixty, I found myself<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +Encumbered with a ward—nay, not <span style="white-space: nowrap;">that—</span><br /> +Enriched with female loveliness and grace<br /> +Bequeathed unto me by a dying friend.<br /> +Volition had no part in that, nor in<br /> +My sudden recrudescency of love.<br /> +I willed our marriage; but 'twas fate bestowed<br /> +The joys I long had fled. Then came our life<br /> +In Amsterdam; each day so filled with bliss<br /> +It overflowed into the next, and days<br /> +Of joy grew into weeks and months of <span style="white-space: nowrap;">happiness—</span><br /> +Let me have wine, I say!</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> [<i>Within</i>] Coming, sir!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Anon the traveling itch—was't fate or <span style="white-space: nowrap;">will—</span><br /> +Possessed my soul to see America,<br /> +And money matters calling me to London,<br /> +Where raged the plague, I sent my wife before me<br /> +To America with Captain Butts, then bound<br /> +For Boston. Ah! well-a-day, the <span style="white-space: nowrap;">parting!—</span><br /> +I hurried up my business; fled London town;<br /> +Shipped for America; was wrecked far South;<br /> +Captured by Indians; escaping, wandered North<br /> +Until I found the white man's colonies;<br /> +And now footsore and old I've reached the place<br /> +I first intended. What next, O, Fate?</p> + + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Ursula</span>.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Good morrow, hostess.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Ursula.</i> <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Good morrow, sir.</span></p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Surprised.</i></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p class="pt00"><i>Roger.</i> <span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">Look not</span><br /> +Askance upon my way-worn clothes; there's gold</p> +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">To pay my reckoning.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Throwing money down.</i></p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> <span style="margin-left: 3em;">Your pardon, sir;</span><br /> +I marveled, sir, so fine a gentleman<br /> +Should be so travel-stained. What will you have?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Bring me a cup of sherris-sack.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Ursula.</i> [<i>Aside</i>] I knew he was a gentleman!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> How will my Hester greet me? Will she know me?<br /> +She never saw me with a beard, nor in<br /> +Such rags. Perhaps she thinks me <span style="white-space: nowrap;">dead—</span><br /> +If so, the shock might kill her—Let me <span style="white-space: nowrap;">see—</span><br /> +Putative widows have before my time<br /> +Bought second husbands with their beauty, wealth,<br /> +Or wit—and she hath all. 'Tis <span style="white-space: nowrap;">probable—</span><br /> +And when the long-supposed defunct returned,<br /> +He found his amorous relict the bride<br /> +Of a bright-eyed youth! What worse, ye harpy fates?<br /> +She may be dead! Oh! this is madness!<br /> +Sweet Heaven, let her live! and, if I find<br /> +Her married, I'll depart unknown to her<br /> +And bury in my heart's deep sepulchre<br /> +My widowed grief. Bah! I'm a fool!<br /> +This weakness comes from my long wandering!<br /> +Misfortunes, though we think we conquer them,<br /> +Ever pursue, hang on our rear, and give<br /> +Such rankling wounds as teach our souls to dread<br /> +What else may lie in wait invincible.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Re-enter <span class="smcap">Ursula</span> with wine.</i></p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> I beg your pardon, sir. I could not find the wine +at first.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Why, how was that?</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> I'm not the hostess, sir, she is away; I merely +take her place till she comes back.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> You fill it rarely.</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> God bless thee, sir, I'm cook, nurse, or hostess, +as people need me. Ursula Cook, Ursula Nurse, or Ursula +Goodale, at your service, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Ah, indeed, Ursula! Then I presume thou knowest +many of the citizens?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> I know them everyone.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> This wine is excellent. [<i>Drinking</i>] Dost know +one Roger Prynne?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> The husband of our Hester Prynne?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> The same. [<i>Aside</i>] Thank God, she lives.</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> He's dead, sir, rest his soul, a more than thirty +months ago.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Poor fellow! He was a friend of mine. Where +did they bury him?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> His ship was wrecked, he had no burial.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Here's to his memory! You know his wife?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Alas; I do, sweet lady!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> And why alas? The loss of a husband is no great +calamity in a colony. There can be no dearth here of husband-material, +I fancy.</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Whence come you that you know so little of the +doings here?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> From the far South, where for two long years and +more I've lived among the savages. What do you mean?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> I mean her trial by the magistrates.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Tried by magistrates? For what?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Adultery.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Tried for adultery?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Aye, sir, that she is.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> It is a lie, a damned lie! Tried for adultery! A +likely thing! So pure a woman! A purer creature never +lived!</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Sir, you are her friend? You know her?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> I am—I am her husband—her husband's friend. +I knew her in Old England. Adultery! A pretty word! +Who doth accuse her? Damned detractors!</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Her child.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Her what?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Her child.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Hath Hester Prynne a child? Well, well; that is +news indeed! God bless the little thing! it can't be quite +as much as three years old; nay, not so old. Why, such +a tot can give no testimony. I'll go to this trial; I may be +able yet to aid her. Adultery! Bah!</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> God bless your heart, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Is't a boy or girl, how old?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> A girl and three months old.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Three months? Three years you mean.</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Three months, I said.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Thou dost not mean that Hester Prynne hath +borne a child within the last two years?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> I do. [<i>Aside</i>] A strange man, truly. This news +hath troubled him; but that's not strange, it troubles all +her friends. He seemed glad enough she had a child, but +when I said it was a girl it seemed to sting him. Well, +well! God help the women; we are unwelcome when we +come, abused while we stay, and driven hence with ill-usage.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Adulteress! That cannot be! There's some<br /> +Mistake, or some deceit in this. Her great<br /> +Nobility of heart would take upon<br /> +Herself another's wrong. I'll take an oath<br /> +The babe they say is hers she never bore!</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> 'Tis surely hers, for I delivered her.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Hester! Hester! O, my God! My Hester!<br /> +Woman, didst thou say that she is married?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Nay, I said she is a widow, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Who is her paramour?</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Ursula.</i> I do not know.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Busies herself removing tankards.</i></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> [<i>Aside</i>] Now is my honored name dragged in the dust<br /> +By her to whom I did confide its keeping;<br /> +And she herself, my cherished wife, upraised<br /> +Upon a pedestal of shameful guilt<br /> +For filthy mouths to spit their venom at.<br /> +Slowly now. Whatever haps I'll be<br /> +Cornelius Tacitus for the nonce, nor brave<br /> +My state with that true name which marks me out<br /> +As Publius Cornutus. I must have time to think.<br /> +[<i>To Ursula</i>] Get me more wine. Prepare a room for me.</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Aye, sir. [<i>Going.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Where is this trial held?</p> + +<p><i>Ursula.</i> Sir, at the Market place, three crossings up<br /> +The street and to the left.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Roger.</i> <span style="margin-left: 3em;">I thank thee. Go.</span></p> +</div> + <p class="rgh0">[<i>Exit Ursula.</i></p> +<p class="p000">Why was the banishment of tyrant fate<br /> +Annulled by vigorous will? and why should I,<br /> +For whom the jaws of death unhinged themselves,<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +Escape from shipwreck, war, and pestilence,<br /> +And here attain my journey's end at last,<br /> +But that such evil deaths were much too mild<br /> +To gratify the fury that pursues me!<br /> +I was reserved for this last ignominy<br /> +As in despite of human purposes;<br /> +Robbed of mine honor where most I placed my trust<br /> +And reap this pain where most I sowed for peace.<br /> +Was it for this that I did marry her?<br /> +Was it for this I sent her here before me?<br /> +For this I nursed the holy purposes<br /> +Of wedded purity, o'ercame the shocks<br /> +Of human destiny, and held in check<br /> +The inward passions of the baser man?<br /> +For this—to be cornuted in mine age<br /> +And die a by-word?<br /> +My purposes! My purposes! O, God!<br /> +Our purposes are little nine-pins<br /> +Which fate's sure aim bowls down incessantly:<br /> +As fast as we can set them up, events<br /> +Roll down the narrow alleys of our lives,<br /> +Rumbling like distant thunder as they speed,<br /> +Till crash! our king-intent is down, and in<br /> +His fall share all his puny retinue!<br /> +She an adulteress! My Hester, whom<br /> +I cherished as my soul! How I loved her!<br /> +Forgotten, like the meat of yesterday,<br /> +Let it pass!<br /> +Henceforth, for me there's nothing on this side<br /> +Of Hell, but study of revenge on him<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +Who wrought her shame. He must have used foul means;<br /> +For she was ever chaste in thought and deed.<br /> +Hell fiend! Now, under an assuméd name,<br /> +I'll ferret out her lusty paramour;<br /> +Contrive some means to deeply punish him,</p> +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">And satisfy my fathomless revenge.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + + +<div class="scn"><h3><a name="Act_I_ScII" id="Act_I_ScII">Scene II.</a></h3>—<i>Another street. Enter <span class="smcap">Rev. Arthur Dimsdell</span>, +alone.</i></div> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> 'Twould do no good.—The Governor is late,<br /> +Or I have missed him.—Confess?—Disgrace for me;<br /> +No help to her; and all the blasphemies<br /> +That evil minds could cast on sacred calling<br /> +Would be my blame. Whereas, I now can make<br /> +My pleas take on the color of mine office<br /> +And yet reflect on it a purer <span style="white-space: nowrap;">glow.—</span><br /> +Why comes he not?—The path of righteousness,<br /> +Though straight, leads on thro' pleasant fields to Heaven,<br /> +Whereas the broad and easy road of sin<br /> +Splits in its downward way, and then the will<br /> +Stands at a halt which fork to take, though both<br /> +Lead on to Hell! Now—why, here he comes!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Governor</span>, attended.</i></p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Nay, Dimsdell, plead no more; she must be tried.<br /> +I know what thou wouldst say, and like thee for it;<br /> +But think, my friend, the law would mock itself<br /> +If pardon did precede the penalty.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Our Lord did pardon one was taken in<br /> +The very act. O, think of Him!</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> Enough!<br /> +What! wouldst thou have our laws contemned<br /> +As feeble nets to catch the smaller fry<br /> +And let the great break through? I tell thee, sir,<br /> +Her wealth, her beauty, her hitherto fair fame,<br /> +Blacken her crime and make its punishment<br /> +A signal warning to the baser sort.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Hath she not suffered pains and imprisonment?<br /> +Enough to answer all the decalogue?</p> + +<p class="pt00"><i>Governor.</i> I stand for law; and you, I think, do think<br /> +You stand for gospel.—Come, we <span style="white-space: nowrap;">tarry.—</span><br /> +Plead with the Council for the woman, and, while<br /> +I think her death were well deserved, I'll not<br /> +Oppose their mercy if you win it.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">My hand upon it.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Going.</i></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> If that she be condemned,<br /> +Suspend her sentence till her paramour<br /> +Be found; and let them die together.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Governor.</i> Agreed. Come, we're late.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + + +<div class="scn"><h3><a name="Act_I_ScIII" id="Act_I_ScIII">Scene III.</a></h3>—<i>The Market Place.—Church with Portico, L.—A +pillory on a raised Platform, R.—The <span class="smcap">Governor</span> and +<span class="smcap">Council</span> seated in portico.—A crowd of <span class="fsmcap">TOWNSFOLK</span>.</i></div> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Now that our other business is dispatched,<br /> +Call Hester Prynne.</p> + +<p><i>Wilson.</i> <span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wise Governor, and you,</span><br /> +My brethren: dried as I am with age,<br /> +The tendrils of my heart are pliable;<br /> +Nor have the tangles of this thicket-world<br /> +So twisted all my grain as not to bend<br /> +Before another's misery. Wherefore,<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +I do beseech you, call her not.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 9em;">Yet must</span><br /> +We try the woman, though we pity her;<br /> +And though the scion mercy grafts upon<br /> +The stock of justice, the stock is justice still.</p> + +<p><i>Wilson.</i> I plead for justice! even-handed justice!<br /> +As blind and cold as death—but with a sword,<br /> +Sharp on one side to reach the woman's heart<br /> +And on the other keener for the man's!<br /> +You call the woman; where's her paramour?</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 2em;">We do not know.</span></p> + +<p><i>Wilson.</i> <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Then grant a stay to Hester</span><br /> +Till he's known.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Too late; nor were it good</span><br /> +To let the woman slap the face of law,<br /> +And not resent it quickly. Once again,<br /> +Call Hester Prynne. The man she may discover.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter Rev. <span class="smcap">Arthur Dimsdell</span> through crowd and goes to +Portico.</i></p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Crier.</i> Hester Prynne! Hester Prynne!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Most worthy Governor, I am like one<br /> +Who waking hears the village clock toll time,<br /> +Yet, having missed the first few strokes, the hour<br /> +He cannot tell: and so stand I and hear<br /> +Fair Hester called. Is it for trial, or<br /> +For punishment?</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 4em;">For both.</span></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I am her pastor and I speak for her;<br /> +I would to God that I could plead "Not guilty,"<br /> +Or in her stead could offer up myself<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +To satisfy the law!</p> + +<p><i>Crowd.</i> <span style="margin-left: 2em;">How good he is!</span></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Gentle and wise she is, grave councilors,<br /> +And with a modest meekness goes about<br /> +The daily duties of her household care;<br /> +Oh! I am sure no vulgar palate-bait<br /> +Did lure her to this shame, but some enticement<br /> +That took the form of higher nature did<br /> +Invest the hook. For she is modesty<br /> +Itself.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Can modesty, then, fall like this?</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> The modesty of woman is like the blush<br /> +Upon a tender rose; it is her treasure<br /> +And her ornament: you cannot touch it,<br /> +But it fades away; or breathe upon it,<br /> +But it loses perfume; or bring it to the light,<br /> +Unwilted.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> True, but when the roses fade<br /> +We cast them forth, nor treasure them again.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> 'Tis thus I own; but we have higher teaching.<br /> +Our Lord, who knew temptation's mighty power,<br /> +Yet was himself without sin's damning stain,<br /> +Did pass upon a case like this. "Let him<br /> +Who hath no sin first cast a stone at her."<br /> +And then He said, "Go, woman, sin no more."<br /> +Oh! wondrous grace that pardoned frailty<br /> +Which had not sunk to vice!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Re-enter <span class="smcap">Crier</span> with <span class="smcap">Hester Prynne</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 3em;">Enough! Here comes the woman.</span><br /> +Hester, thou art accused before this court<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +Of that which blushing virtue shrinks to name,<br /> +Adultery.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I pray you spare me.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Thou art the widow of a man of whom<br /> +Report spake only praise: no act of thine<br /> +Hath openly offended decency,<br /> +But that young life which draws its sustenance<br /> +From thy round breast avows thy hidden shame.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Have mercy on the babe, O, God!</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> That thou shouldst sin, and thereby, Hester, bring<br /> +Dishonor on the name thy spouse did give thee,<br /> +Is worse than in a meaner woman. If thou<br /> +Hast aught to say to mitigate the wrath<br /> +Of justice, speak. And, Hester, bear in mind<br /> +The penalty is death or banishment.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I would not gloze my crime, nor do I know<br /> +How to address your worships.<br /> +Yet since you bid me I will plead my cause<br /> +As best I can.<br /> +That I have sinned is true; and well I know<br /> +Henceforth for me there's nothing left from all<br /> +My kind but scorn and hate.<br /> +For me hath life no charm to cheat my hope,<br /> +Or make me wish to linger here; yet I<br /> +While lives the child would shelter her, the one<br /> +Sweet flower that lovely grows above the soil<br /> +Of my most foul debasement.<br /> +Although the blossom of iniquity,<br /> +She takes no tinct from whence she springs, but rather<br /> +Of the sky toward which she doth unfold.<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +Believe me, sirs,<br /> +But for my babe's dear love, I'd ask for death<br /> +To rid me quickly of my misery:<br /> +For love itself, dishonored in my being,<br /> +Turns all the gentle cords that bind affection<br /> +Into hard-knotted thongs to whip me hence.<br /> +Therefore, if I do plead for life, think not<br /> +I do beseech a favor for myself,<br /> +But rather, that I beg a lingering pain,<br /> +Than expiate in one quick-ending pang<br /> +The sum of all my loathéd wickedness.<br /> +Thus, for my tender babe, I ask my life,<br /> +And, for myself, I do implore you now,<br /> +Banish me not.<br /> +As for my crime, I have repented it<br /> +Most bitterly; yea, I've suffered anguish<br /> +From the very hour when, as the spring<br /> +Of nature dragged my anchors loose, the soft<br /> +Entreaty of a lover's sigh did blow<br /> +Concurrent with my tide, and swept me out<br /> +Into a troubled sea.<br /> +Now, battered on the rocks of hard opinions,<br /> +My most untimely wreck is quite complete;<br /> +Yet spare the hulk for that dear freight it bore.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Woman, I pity thee; now, while our laws</span><br /> +Are strict, yet may our mercy show itself<br /> +In staving off the penalty, if thou<br /> +Wilt aid us.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Your mercy comes with hard condition;<br /> +For how can I, who stand here helpless,<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +Aid you who have all power?</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Tell us who is thy paramour?</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> That I will not do.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Thou art most obstinate. What say you now,<br /> +Grave councilors? Need we delay the sentence?</p> + +<p><i>Bronson.</i> Quick to forgive and slow in condemnation,<br /> +Would be our wisest course in such a case.<br /> +The life she hath God gave; we should not take it;<br /> +Nor should we banish her, for she is useful,<br /> +And with her needle doth assist the poor.<br /> +There is provision in our law to fit<br /> +This crime when neither death nor banishment<br /> +Is proper. It is: [<i>Reading</i>] "Th' adulteress shall stand<br /> +Upon the pillory; and on her breast<br /> +Shall wear a scarlet letter A, to mark<br /> +Her criminal incontinence."</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 12em;">A good</span><br /> +Suggestion truly; we had forgot the clause<br /> +From long disuse. What say you?</p> + +<p><i>Ward.</i> I think it wise.</p> + +<p><i>Arnold.</i> <span style="margin-left: 8em;">'Twill be more merciful.</span></p> + +<p><i>Langdon.</i> A living warning 'gainst adultery.</p> + +<p><i>All.</i> It is our suffrage.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 12em;">So be it then.</span><br /> +Hester, thou art to stand upon the pillory<br /> +A little while, and wear upon thy breast<br /> +The Scarlet Letter "A" forever;<br /> +This see thou do on pain of instant death<br /> +Or banishment. Hath anyone a piece<br /> +Of scarlet cloth?</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Bronson.</i> I have the letter here prepared.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Clerk, affix the letter to her breast.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Roger Prynne</span>, clad as in Scene I.—He keeps to the +rear of Hester.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Now, Jailer, lead her to the pillory,<br /> +There let her stand unbound.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Hester ascends steps to pillory platform.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Dimsdell, you are her pastor, speak to her.<br /> +Hold up her sin before her eyes, and warn<br /> +The multitude by her example.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I beg you, sir, let Dr. Wilson speak.</p> + +<p><i>Wilson.</i> Nay, Dimsdell. Nay, the charge is yours.<br /> +Speak on. And plead that she disclose the man<br /> +Who was her paramour.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I pray you pardon me. I am not well.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Not well? 'Tis but compassion weakens thee.<br /> +Speak man! thy words are gentlest and will draw<br /> +Her secret from her, though ours do seal her lips.<br /> +Proceed, Dimsdell.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> We wrong her nature when we seek to know<br /> +That which her heart doth teach her to conceal;<br /> +Yet at your bidding will I plead with her.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Goes over to pillory.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Hester, look down upon me; let thine ear<br /> +Receive my meaning with the sound I make;<br /> +Behold in me the body of the Council,<br /> +Not me alone; and hear my words as though<br /> +The general voice, speaking in concert true,<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +Did intone them.<br /> +For it were vain presumption to expect<br /> +That, what the Governor could not extract,<br /> +My words alone could move thee to disclose.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> A modest gentleman, truly!</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Upon thy sin I dwell not; the penalty<br /> +Which thou dost suffer preaches repentance;<br /> +And in thy nature there is naught to lead thee<br /> +Twice astray.<br /> +There's not an eye that now doth look upon thee<br /> +But pities thee, and doubt thou not, if he<br /> +Who wronged thee is present here, his heart is wrung<br /> +With bitterest remorse. Wilt speak his name?</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I will not.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I do command thee by the Commonwealth,<br /> +I do entreat thee for thy reputation,<br /> +I do implore thee for thy soul's salvation,<br /> +Give up his name.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I would not breathe his name to anyone;<br /> +Nay, not to him who was my husband, though<br /> +The sea should cast him up to question me.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Woman, who did seduce thee?</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> <span style="margin-left: 13.5em;">I keep my vow.</span></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Hester, deceive thyself no more; look down<br /> +Upon me once again. Believe me, Hester,<br /> +No pain the world could now inflict would harm<br /> +Thy recreant lover. To see thee here set up<br /> +The target of a thousand curious eyes,<br /> +Thy beauties blistered in the noonday sun,<br /> +Thy gentle breast seared with yon scarlet letter,<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +Would burn that image on his soul. Have mercy,<br /> +Hester, forgive his cowardice, do thou<br /> +Act for him; pronounce his name and let him die<br /> +To satisfy his crime.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I will not drag him down with me.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Oh! glorious generosity misplaced!</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Your generosity hath led you once<br /> +Astray; do not allow it now to aid<br /> +Him in hypocrisy. For, Hester, you,<br /> +Who know his weaknesses and aspirations,<br /> +His station in his calling, his place in life<br /> +Among us, will be a party to deception<br /> +If now you hide his name.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I answer to my God. No man shall know<br /> +That which is only known to me and him.<br /> +But speak thou on his crime!</p> + +<p class="pt00"><i>Dimsdell.</i> Ho! all ye people of the commonwealth!<br /> +Behold!—let him confess!—O, Hester! <span style="white-space: nowrap;">speak!—</span></p> +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">I see—no <span style="white-space: nowrap;">more—</span></p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Dimsdell falls.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Throng, confused and amazed, closes around Dimsdell.</i><br /> +<i>Cries of horror and apprehension.</i></p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Look to our brother Dimsdell. He faints;<br /> +The heat hath overcome him.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> <span style="margin-left: 3em;">I am a doctor. Make room!</span><br /> +The falling sickness. Give us breathing space!</p> + +<div class="left"> + <p><i>Governor.</i> Hester, thou art discharged. Let all go home!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><span class="smcap"><a name="Act_II" id="Act_II">Act II.</a></span></h2> + + +<div class="scn"><h3><a name="Act_II_ScI" id="Act_II_ScI">Scene I.</a></h3>—<i>Interior of Hester's home. Furniture Dutch-English, +comfortable and handsome. Windows draped in scarlet-fringed +curtains with scarlet cross-cords, simulating the letter "A." +Rich needle work in the hangings and other accessories. A +cradle L., near it a table with a quarto Bible. <span class="smcap">Hester</span> discovered +bending over cradle, then sits R.C. and takes up a piece +of embroidery (the letter "A" in scarlet on a dark background).</i></div> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> God bless the little darling, how she sleeps!<br /> +Had I but thought that all my heart would beat<br /> +Within the tender compass of her arms,<br /> +I had not prayed she might not be. But now,<br /> +Although unasked she came, unasked she brought<br /> +A wealth of love and blessing to my soul.</p> + +<p class="center">[<i>Sits and embroiders.</i>]</p> + +<p class="p00">Thus Providence, although it pierce the heart,<br /> +Works into it some glorious design;<br /> +Which on this under side of life is blurred,<br /> +Thread over thread in infinite confusion.<br /> +Or, if we are not made of firmest texture,<br /> +The work pulls through, or tears an ugly rent,<br /> +Or gathers up our woof in meshy tangles.<br /> +This is a world of worn and fretted ends,<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +Knit in a maze of fearful intricacy,<br /> +Wherein we see no meaning. Nor can we know<br /> +The hidden shuttles of Eternity,<br /> +That weave the endless web of living, loving,<br /> +And begetting, whereby a filament<br /> +Of earth takes on the likeness of an angel.<br /> +The primal burden of our race-existence,<br /> +Mankind's perpetual perpetuation,<br /> +Weighs on weak womanhood; we bear the race<br /> +And all its natural ills, yet still our fellows,<br /> +Who proudly call themselves our lords and masters,<br /> +Do heap upon us petty wrongs, and load<br /> +Us down with their oppressions. I cannot tell<br /> +What rich reward my suffering may bring,<br /> +But bide the piercing, like this patient cloth,<br /> +In hope the needle carries golden thread.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter a</i> Maid-Servant.</p> + +<p class="p00">What is it?</p> + +<p><i>Servant.</i> Madam, a gentleman would speak with you.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p class="pt00"><i>Hester.</i> Bid him enter.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Exit Servant.</i></p> + +<p class="p000">Methought I heard my husband's dreaded voice<br /> +Speak to me on the pillory. What<br /> +If he lives, or hath arisen from the dead<br /> +To reckon with me now? Well, let him come;<br /> +For this strong heart outcast from sympathy<br /> +Hath turned back on itself in double strength;<br /> +And all the puny woman of my mind,<br /> +Burned in the furnace of my sex's scorn,<br /> +Plunged in the icy vat of love's neglect,<br /> +Hath tempered hard. I fear him not.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Roger Prynne</span>, shaved, and dressed as a +doctor of medicine.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Roger himself!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Thou didst provide snug quarters, Hester, against +my coming. Aye, and hast furnished them better than I +bade thee.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> The cost was small; my needle and my <span style="white-space: nowrap;">energy—</span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Have done the work; yea, and supplied the cradle +also. Ah! 'tis a brave piece of work; very beautiful and +delicate; the lusty offspring of lustful parents. Somewhat +costly, I should think, and asked some pains. Methinks, +thou hadst some help with that; or was it thy needle or thy +energy which wrought this dainty bit?</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Touch not the child; 'tis mine, thou hast no part +in it.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Too true. But calm thyself. I have not harmed +the brat, nor did I touch it. [<i>Looking around.</i>] I like thy +taste, Hester. A handsome house to hold a handsome +woman.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> The house is thine; let me and my babe depart.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Nay, keep the house, 'twill shelter you; I do not +need it.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I will not have it.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Will not, Madam Hester, is a strong word to use +to your wedded lord and master. I say you shall; yea, and, +furthermore, here is provision for the child and thee.</p> + +<p class="center">[<i>Throwing purse upon the table.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Take up thy purse. I who have done thee wrong +will not henceforth eat thy bread.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Wrong, Hester. Done me wrong? Wronged me? +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +Nay, Hester, wronged thyself; wronged thine innocent +babe; wronged the world; wronged whom thou wilt, but +not wronged me! To wake me from a doting dream—that +was not wrong! A dream of woman's purity and innocence; +a foolish dream of married happiness between thy +youth and my decrepitude; to put an end to such a madness, +surely was not wrong! Wronged me? Thy levity +hath righted my poor mind, which, pondering o'er thy beauties, +listed to one side.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Oh! pardon me!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Pardon thee? yea, why should I not? I do pardon +thee; yea, more, I do applaud thine act. Thou wast no +slothful servant; thou didst not fear the coming of thy lord; +thou puttest all to use and gottest cent per cent. Therefore, +the care I show for thee is hire and wages; it is thy due, +accept it freely.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Let me and my babe depart. Receive thy money +and thy house, I can take nothing from thee. Ah! if I could +I would return thee every penny I have spent of thine.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Wait till I ask thee to account. What! am I so +old, and yet not know the cost of dalliance? Nothing +dearer. And he who eared my field during my absence, +being now, in thy abasement, so chary of his presence, spent +little of his gold, I'll warrant. Who is he, Hester?</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Thou shalt never know.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Never's a long word, Hester; it stretches beyond +the judgment into eternity. Come, I'll know him then, +tell me now.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> He is a scholar and can cope with thee; thou canst +not find him.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> If he do walk the earth, I'll find him out; if he be +now in Hell, I'll follow him; where'er he be, his peace is +forfeited and I <span style="white-space: nowrap;">will—</span></p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> What wilt thou do to him?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Nothing, Hester, nothing. I merely wish to thank +him for the love he showed thee during my absence, whereby +thou didst mourn for me the less.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Thou wilt not kill him?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> What a silly thing thou hast become, now thou +hast left the path of virtue! Do I kill thee? Am I dangerous? +Is there force in this withered body to harm a lusty +knave, a brave seducer of ripe womanhood?</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Nay, do not harm him.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> At thy request, mistress.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> The fault was mine.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> No doubt 'twas thine alone.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Wreak vengeance then on me alone.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> I have none.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I would I could believe thee.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> As well give faith to me as him. But, truly, Hester, +I had thought these puritans, these pilgrim fathers, had left +all fleshly lusts behind them with their vanities in England. +He must be a rare bird in these parts—O, I shall know him +by his plumage!</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> He's safe enough.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Perhaps, but then these poachers, who fish in +others' ponds, are proud of their achievements. They will +talk. They brag in their cups and strut and ogle when +they're sober.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I'll warn him of thee.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Thou wilt do nothing of the kind. But come, +Hester, man and wife ought not to quarrel. Let us set a good +example to the world in peace if not in chastity. Sit you +here and listen to me.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Well?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Hester, I loved thee when thou wast a babe,<br /> +A prattling child no taller than my knee,<br /> +A pretty little innocent, a tot<br /> +That wavered in its walk and won my heart<br /> +By tender trustfulness. Thou'dt leave thy father,<br /> +Mother, all, to nestle in these arms<br /> +The whiles I told some worn out fairy tale,<br /> +Or sang of Robin Hood.<br /> +That was before thy mind did take its shape,<br /> +And subsequent events have blotted out<br /> +All memories of thy babyhood.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Nay, but I do recall, as in a haze,<br /> +Some of the incidents of infancy.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Perhaps. Hester, thou wast the dearest child<br /> +That ever blest fond parents, unfolding sweet<br /> +Thy mother's beauties and thy father's strength.<br /> +And canst thou now remember who made himself<br /> +A child to play with thee vain, foolish games;<br /> +Who taught thee out of books such lessons as<br /> +Thy little mind could grasp?</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> <span style="margin-left: 9em;">It was thou.</span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Then, as thou didst grow toward womanhood,<br /> +Some fifteen springs, thy gentle mother died;<br /> +A woman beautiful and pure, as sweetly<br /> +Ignorant of all her charms as is<br /> +The hyacinth.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mother! Mother!</span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Pray God the saints see nothing here on earth:<br /> +Or else that in their golden paradise<br /> +Some sleepy potion dull their sympathies<br /> +With us: for who could look upon this world,<br /> +And see mankind divested of the lies<br /> +That make our comeliness; or, with an eye undimmed,<br /> +Behold the brutal tragedies of life;<br /> +And yet find happiness or peace in Heaven?<br /> +Hell's flames would reach unto the tree of life<br /> +Itself and singe thy mother's heart, if she<br /> +Could see that scarlet letter on thy breast.</p> + +<p class="center">[<i>Hester covers her face and moans.</i>]</p> + +<p class="p00">Great God! what thread of continuity<br /> +Doth string the whirling incidents of life?<br /> +This woman was that maid whose purity<br /> +Excelled imagination's greatest reach;<br /> +Whose happiness sang ever like the lark<br /> +Arising from the earth to soar in Heaven!<br /> +And now behold her dyed in scarlet sin,<br /> +Branded with infamy, and moaning here<br /> +In deepest anguish!<br /> +Nay, come; let out thy grief in linkéd words,<br /> +For this tooth-gated dumb remorse will herd<br /> +Thy thoughts until they gore each other.<br /> +Hester, thy strength is greater than to yield<br /> +Thus to thy misery; do not lash<br /> +Thy heart into a fury; never blow<br /> +The tiny sparks of pain<br /> +Into the flaming coals of Hell.<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +That sinning soul is traitor to itself<br /> +That leagues its bruiséd thoughts with imps of Hell<br /> +To torture conscience.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Leave me, I pray you.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Not yet, else were my visit bootless.<br /> +Hester, I will not dwell upon thy life<br /> +From year to year, nor drag thy colliered soul<br /> +Back to its days of spotless innocence.<br /> +Thy father's amity for me, thou knowest,<br /> +And how, upon his death, I stood toward thee<br /> +In place of parents.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Would you had remained a father to me!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> I loved thee, Hester; daughter, sister, sweetheart,<br /> +You were to me. And you did love me too,<br /> +And as an elder brother looked on me<br /> +In gentle confidence.<br /> +So did the years post by in th' dim afterglow<br /> +That comes to agéd men; while love with thee<br /> +Was in the dawning; a tender sky with both<br /> +Of us, my sun already set; and thine<br /> +Not yet arisen; nor did it ever rise<br /> +To shine on me, fool that I was!</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I never loved you, should not have married you;<br /> +Knew nothing then of love except the name.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Aye, you loved me, and you loved me not;<br /> +Hester, I wronged thee when I married thee;<br /> +The fault was mine, old as I was, to hope<br /> +To still the sweet necessities of youth<br /> +With passionless love; nature demands her due,<br /> +And we should know, while love may grow at home,<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +Passion requires some novelty.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> We both have done foul wrong unto each other,<br /> +And, as this world doth judge, mine is the greater.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Yet thou wast tempted by thy youth, my absence,<br /> +A handsome lover's importunity:<br /> +But what can be said for me, old as I was,<br /> +To drive and badger thy chaste ignorance<br /> +To marry mine infirmities?</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> How can I right this wrong?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> And wouldst thou if thou couldst?</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Aye, if I could; but yet these broken lives,<br /> +Cracked by my fall, no putty will make whole.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Yet canst thou veil my ruin, and o'er me hang<br /> +The drapery of silence. Dost consent?</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Aye, but how?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> But swear to me thou wilt conceal my name,<br /> +Nor ever claim relationship with me,<br /> +Until I bid thee.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> <span style="margin-left: 2em;">Wherefore the vow?</span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Because I wish it;<br /> +Perhaps, because I would not bear the scorn,<br /> +The petty taunts, the contumelious looks,<br /> +That ever greet the cuckold husband.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Then will I take the oath.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Swear by the book, and also by the babe,<br /> +Never to breathe my rightful name;<br /> +Never to claim me as thy husband;<br /> +Never to leave this place.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Wherefore not leave the place?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Swear, woman, swear!<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +Never to leave this place, until I bid thee.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I swear to all these things.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Swear once again; never to tell thy paramour<br /> +Thy husband lives and walks these streets.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> I swear to keep thy counsel as I have kept<br /> +His and mine own.</p> + +<p class="pt00"><i>Roger.</i> Remember then, from this time on, my name<br /> +Is Chillingworth, no longer Prynne, for that<br /> +I will not bear. [<i>Going</i>] Hester, farewell.<br /> +Yet ere I go, Hester, behold my mind:<br /> +I love thee still; but with a chastened heart<br /> +Made wise by sorrow. Day after day, as thou<br /> +Dost wend thy way about this mazy world,<br /> +My care will shield thee and thy little babe.<br /> +Do not repulse it. I have no hope that thou<br /> +Wilt think of me without revulsion;<br /> +Then hate me if thou must; but spare the thought<br /> +That ever thou didst take my hateful kisses,<br /> +Or clasp those soft warm arms about my thin,<br /> +Cold carcass.<br /> +Do not despise thy beauties that I once<br /> +Did own them. Forget it, Hester, for such a marriage<br /> +Was my infamy, and I it was</p> +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">Who sinned against thy youth. Farewell!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + + +<div class="scn"><h3><a name="Act_II_ScII" id="Act_II_ScII">Scene II.</a></h3>—<i>A Churchyard. A bell ringing for service. +Groups of people standing about. Persons cross stage and enter +church door on extreme L.</i></div> + +<p><i>Bronson.</i> They say the Reverend Master Dimsdell hath<br /> +Recovered from his fainting fit, and will,<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +God willing, preach to us this afternoon.</p> + +<p><i>Langdon.</i> Aye, that he will.</p> + +<p><i>Arnold.</i> <span style="margin-left: 9.5em;">But hath he come?</span></p> + +<p><i>Ward.</i> <span style="margin-left: 18em;">Not yet;</span><br /> +He's late, but, whether here or elsewhere,<br /> +He's always doing good.</p> + +<p><i>Bronson.</i> <span style="margin-left: 10em;">A kindly man!</span><br /> +His feet do tread th' o'ergrown path that leads<br /> +Unto the poor man's door.</p> + +<p><i>Langdon.</i> <span style="margin-left: 10em;">Aye, that they do!</span><br /> +And, in the darkened hour of mortal grief,<br /> +His presence like a lamp gives light and hope.</p> + +<p><i>Arnold.</i> His charity exceeds all human bounds,<br /> +And, though he's blameless in himself, knows how<br /> +To pardon others.</p> + +<p><i>Ward.</i> <span style="margin-left: 7.5em;">Aye, that he doth! Didst note</span><br /> +His plea for Hester Prynne upon her trial?</p> + +<p><i>Langdon.</i> Aye, that I did!</p> + +<p><i>Ward.</i> <span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">But know the goodness of it!</span><br /> +He was her constant friend up to the time<br /> +Her wantonness declared itself, and then<br /> +He left her lonely, as though that punishment<br /> +Were all a man of mercy could inflict.</p> + +<p><i>Arnold.</i> He takes it much to heart that wanton vice<br /> +Hath found a nest within his congregation.</p> + +<p><i>Langdon.</i> That grief is truly great with him; but yet<br /> +He will not hear a word against her.—Look!<br /> +For here she comes.<br /> +How bravely doth she wear her scarlet letter!</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Hester Prynne</span> alone; walks proudly, with slow steps, +to porch and enters church; looking neither to the right nor to the +left, but straight before her, with her head up. People turn to +look at her, but no one speaks.</i></p> + +<p><i>First Woman.</i> The brazen thing!</p> + +<p><i>Second Woman.</i> Didst note the fashion of her badge of vice,<br /> +And how she's turned it into ornament?</p> + +<p><i>Third Woman.</i> A handy woman with her needle.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>First Woman.</i> Let's in and stare her out of countenance.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Exeunt Women.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Governor Bellingham</span> and <span class="smcap">Roger Prynne</span>, +called Doctor Chillingworth.</i></p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Now, as I told you, there hath lately come,<br /> +But how I know not, a change in him so rare,<br /> +It baffles cure.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> <span style="margin-left: 10.5em;">I think you said he is</span><br /> +A very studious man?</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 10em;">Aye, that he is.</span><br /> +Good evening, gentlemen.</p> + +<p><i>All.</i> <span style="margin-left: 12.5em;">Your worship.</span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> <span style="margin-left: 2em;">I pray you, tell me more.</span></p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 13em;">Nay, use your eyes,</span><br /> +For here he is.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Rev. Arthur Dimsdell</span>. People uncover as he passes. +He salutes them gravely and generally.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Dimsdell, a word with you.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Good evening, gentlemen.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Dimsdell, here is good Doctor Chillingworth,<br /> +Who tended thee. I hope you gentlemen<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +Will prize each other at your native worths.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I shall be glad to know you better, Doctor.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> And I, to see you better, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Pardon me, I must in; I'm late already.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Exit Dimsdell—all follow except Governor Bellingham and +Roger Prynne. Bell ceases.</i></p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> How weak a hold we have on health! That man<br /> +Is but the standing ruin of his former self,<br /> +And yet, for beauty, comeliness and grace,<br /> +He still is model to the colony.<br /> +What do you think, can care restore him yet,<br /> +And give him to us as he used to be?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> I cannot tell. I need more knowledge of him.<br /> +There are no marks of cureless <span style="white-space: nowrap;">malady—</span><br /> +A faint suggestion of overwatchfulness,<br /> +That oft points out the student—nothing more.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Hymn from church. (Tune: "<em lang="de" xml:lang="de">Ein' feste Burg</em>" or other +ancient hymn used by the Puritans.)</i></p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> The worship hath begun; but, ere we in,<br /> +A word about the wealth you left with me.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> No more. Pray use it as your own, in trade,<br /> +Or howsoe'er you choose. The largest pearl<br /> +An Indian chief did give me; but sell it with<br /> +The rest, and with their worth provide for Hester.<br /> +She is the widow of mine ancient friend,<br /> +To whom I ever shall be much indebted,<br /> +And while I would not have her know me yet<br /> +As what I am—her husband's friend and <span style="white-space: nowrap;">hers—</span><br /> +As that might breed more grief in her, or wake<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +An old one—yet I think it meet to care<br /> +For her and for her child.</p> + +<p class="pt00"><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 5em;">Your goodness is</span><br /> +Your passport, Doctor. Come, let us in.—Nay,</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">After you; you are my guest.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + + +<div class="scn"><h3><a name="Act_II_ScIII" id="Act_II_ScIII">Scene III.</a></h3>—<i>Bed room of the <span class="smcap">Rev. Arthur Dimsdell</span>. +Night. <span class="smcap">Dimsdell</span>, alone in the dark.</i></div> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> O, she is beautiful!<br /> +The memory of her loveliness<br /> +Pervades my waking dreams, and, pleasant theft,<br /> +Deprives my sleep of dark oblivion.<br /> +And thus, while fleeing from the gentle bonds<br /> +Of love, I am become the thrall of passion,<br /> +And sigh my heart away in waste desire!<br /> +Had I but truly loved her,<br /> +Would not our joys, that then were innocent,<br /> +Have moulded soul to soul and made mine take<br /> +The form of her most dear perfections?<br /> +But, now!<br /> +No trait of Hester's noble purity<br /> +Remains with guilty me, for I purloined<br /> +Her precious diadem and like a rogue<br /> +I cast that crown away, afraid to wear<br /> +What would have been my dearest ornament.<br /> +Why can I not repent? Or is it true<br /> +Repentance is denied the hypocrite?<br /> +And must it then forever be that, though<br /> +I cast out sin, both root and branch, the seed<br /> +Of evil, scattered long ago, will sprout<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +And bloom carnation thoughts that dull the soul<br /> +With subtle sweetness!<br /> +Oh! coward that I am!<br /> +Bound down, as to a rock, to form and place,<br /> +By iron chains of worldly precedent,<br /> +While my desires like eagles tear my breast,<br /> +And make of me a base Prometheus.<br /> +O, God!<br /> +I married all the family of sins,<br /> +When I espoused the pleasantest; I am<br /> +Become a liar through my lechery,<br /> +A thief of reputation through my cowardice,<br /> +And—puh! the rest but follow in the train<br /> +Of my dear wedded crime!<br /> +O, God! and shall this lust burn on in me<br /> +Still unconsumed? Can flagellation, fasting,<br /> +Nor fervent prayer itself, not cleanse my soul<br /> +From its fond doting on her comeliness?<br /> +Oh! heaven! is there no way for me to jump<br /> +My middle age and plunge this burning heart<br /> +Into the icy flood of cold decay?<br /> +None? O, wretched state of luxury!<br /> +This hot desire grows even in its death<br /> +And from its ashes doth arise full fledged<br /> +Renewed eternally!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>A blinding flash of lightning, followed quickly by sharp thunder, +discloses Dimsdell kneeling at his couch, and also +shows <span class="smcap">Satan</span>—an archangel with bat +wings—who has just entered.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Have mercy upon me, O, my God, have mercy!<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +According to thy gentle lovingkindness,<br /> +According to the multitude of all<br /> +Thy tender mercies, blot out my foul transgression.<br /> +Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;<br /> +Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow;<br /> +Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out<br /> +All mine iniquities.</p> + +<p><i>Satan.</i> You mar the psalm, Sir priest, for you omit<br /> +The saving clause. Your sin is unconfessed.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Who art thou that durst interpose between<br /> +My soul and God?</p> + +<p><i>Satan.</i> I am the stronger part of lower nature,<br /> +The worser part of all that came from Him<br /> +Whom all adore. Behold me!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Satan becomes visible by light emanating from himself.</i></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Thou art Satan! The Prince of Hell!</p> + +<p><i>Satan.</i> I am so called.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Get thee hence! I am a minister<br /> +Of God, a priest, and am anointed of the Lord<br /> +To teach His children.</p> + +<p><i>Satan.</i> And, therefore, am I come to thee, Sir priest.<br /> +I do confess a predilection for<br /> +Thy calling; conclaves, synods, convocations,<br /> +Are never held without my guiding presence;<br /> +They are my field days and my exercises,<br /> +While in the study and the cell I take<br /> +My cloistered ease. I love all priests and am<br /> +The bosom friend of many who would blush<br /> +To speak to me in public. Receive me, brother.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Scorner, avaunt! Sink to the hell from whence<br /> +Thou cam'st! I do abhor thee, Satan; yea,<br /> +I tell thee to thy face that I who quail<br /> +Before the awful majesty of God,<br /> +And cowardly do hide my sin from man,<br /> +I tell thee, vile as I am, I do detest<br /> +Thy very name! I do defy thee!</p> + +<p><i>Satan.</i> These words are very brave; if more than wind,<br /> +Go to the market place tomorrow, there<br /> +Proclaim thy vice; or else ascend thy pulpit<br /> +And denounce thyself as what thou art, adulterer.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Recreant to my God am I; think'st thou<br /> +That I will thee obey, to whom I owe<br /> +No deep allegiance?</p> + +<p><i>Satan.</i> Then bare thy sinful breast, for here I swear,<br /> +By that dread Name which mortals cannot hear,<br /> +I will upon thee print a mark, the stigma<br /> +Of thy secret crime.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Hold off! I charge thee by that other Name<br /> +Of Him who rent thy kingdom, and will destroy it,<br /> +Touch me not yet!<br /> +Almighty Purity, Dread Essence Increate;<br /> +Behold concentrate, in this wicked form,<br /> +The universal spirit of iniquity.<br /> +Come quickly in thy majesty, O Lord!<br /> +Wither him here within the awful flame<br /> +Of Thy bright Holiness! Shrivel his frame<br /> +Into an atom, and blow the lifeless dust<br /> +Beyond the farthest star.<br /> +And, if in his destruction my soul should share<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +Through close proximity, spare not!<br /> +Then will Thy servants serve Thee, Gracious Lord!<br /> +And mankind find its paradise!</p> + +<p><i>Satan.</i> That was well said!<br /> +Perhaps, Sir priest, you now will treat me to<br /> +A learned disquisition on the birth<br /> +Of evil? I'd like to hear it, if it tread<br /> +Beyond theology's well beaten path;<br /> +But, if it stumbles in the pug-mill round<br /> +Of teleology, you must excuse me.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Base siege of scorn! I curse thee!</p> + +<p><i>Satan.</i> Curses but belch foul wind, they pass beyond me.<br /> +But, come; I have no time to waste with thee;<br /> +This visitation had not been, nor would<br /> +I dignify thy carnal slip by my<br /> +Incarnate presence, but for thy perfidy.<br /> +For thou hast reached a depth of moral baseness<br /> +Below the meanest fiend in lowest hell;<br /> +Thou hast deserted her who sinned with thee,<br /> +Gave up her virtue to express her love,<br /> +Laid down her treasure to thy secret lust,<br /> +And then took up thy burden with her own.<br /> +Think not I come to draft thee of my legions,<br /> +I would not have so weak, so mean a coward,<br /> +To sow pale fear among them. No!<br /> +Thou wilt be damned outside of Hell. I come<br /> +To show, as in a mirror, what thou art;<br /> +Not what thou shalt be. The past and present both<br /> +Are mine, the future rests with God. But now,</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Hester's image appears in a cloud dressed in white.</i></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p00">Behold the woman as thou first didst know her,<br /> +A loveliness to tempt or saint or devil,<br /> +The rare quintessence of pure womanhood!<br /> +Transparent brightness! A living crystal globe,<br /> +Wherein all beauties of humanity<br /> +Reflect themselves with iridescent glow!<br /> +Dost thou remember?<br /> +Behold her now the mother of thy babe,</p> + +<p class="center"><i>The image of Hester changes. She holds their babe +in her arms.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Whose pretty wiles would win hard Moloch's heart;<br /> +Make him forget his rites, and turn man-nurse.<br /> +O, fool! I would renounce my war with Heaven,<br /> +Eat up my pains in one most bitter mouthful,<br /> +And sue for pardon from God's hated Throne,<br /> +If such an offspring might but call me father!<br /> +Where is thy manly pride?<br /> +But, now, behold her shamed, bearing the badge</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Hester's image wears Scarlet Letter "A."</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Of thy foul infamy. Tear wide thy shirt,<br /> +For as thou look'st on her I will impress<br /> +Upon thy breast a stigma worse than hers.<br /> +Aye, fall upon thy knees to worship her<br /> +The Lady of the Scarlet Letter.<br /> +Yet while thou kneel'st thy flesh doth glow and burn</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Scarlet Letter "A" glows on Dimsdell's breast.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">With all the deep red heraldry befits<br /> +A coward lust: the latter "A" in gules<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +Upon thy sable heart. There let it gnaw<br /> +Forever and forever!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Hester vanishes. Satan fades. No light, save "A" on +Dimsdell's breast.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">And, now I go, I put this curse upon thee:<br /> +Be coward still, wear outwardly the garb<br /> +Of righteousness, shake in thy pious shoes,<br /> +Cover the stigma on thy breast from eyes<br /> +Of flesh, and be a hypocrite, till death<br /> +Relieves the world of thee. We'll meet again.</p> + +<p class="rgh">[<i>Lightning. Exit Satan. Dimsdell lies in trance.<br /> +Night. No sound, no light.</i></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><span class="smcap"><a name="Act_III" id="Act_III">Act III.</a></span></h2> + + +<div class="scn"><h3><a name="Act_III_ScI" id="Act_III_ScI">Scene I.</a></h3>—<i>The garden of Governor Bellingham. <span class="smcap">Roger +Prynne</span>, called Chillingworth, alone.</i></div> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> The fox that robbed my roost is sly; he keeps<br /> +The cover warily; and, now the scent<br /> +Is cold, the curs that yelp in scandal's pack<br /> +Bay loud on many faults, but cannot trace him.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Diggory</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Doctor, the Governor will join you presently.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Roger.</i> Diggory, I will await him patiently.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Sits.</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Diggory retires, then returns.</i></p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Doctor, may I beg a word with you?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> A thousand if you will.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> I would speak in confidence.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> The manner would become thee, Diggory. +But speak, man! Say on.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> I need a philter, Doctor. For the love of <span style="white-space: nowrap;">mercy—</span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> For the love of good liquor, Diggory, thou shalt +have twenty filters. Still decanting?</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> O, sir! not that kind of filter. I'm in love!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Ah! thou art in love? In love didst thou say?</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Aye, sir, if it please you.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> It pleases me well enough; how doth it please the +lady?</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> She's not a lady, sir, thank God! she's but a +simple maiden, and it pleaseth her not.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> A simple maid refuses you! Ah! Diggory, Diggory, +be thankful for the good things God hath sent thee.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Truly, sir, I thank Him ev'ry day; but, sir, as I +do desire the maiden—I—I—would have her too.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> And so, Diggory, thou wouldst have me aid thee +in this folly, and give thee a love potion?</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Aye, sir, begging your honor's pardon.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> But why dost thou ask me, Diggory? Dost thou +take me for an herb-doctor, or a necromancer, or what?</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> My master, the Governor, says you are a very +learned man, a what-you-call-'em—a scientist; and a scientist +can do anything.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Humph!—Diggory, I do not deal in philters; they +are out of date—but I know a charm will win her love.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Tell it me for the love <span style="white-space: nowrap;">of—</span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Thou wilt betray it, Diggory.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Never! Never!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Omit thou but a word of it, and the maiden's lost +to thee—but con it well, and all her beauties will be thine.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Oh! Doctor!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Take of the rendered grease of three black bears—do +not fail in that—anoint thy curly <span style="white-space: nowrap;">locks—</span></p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> My hair is straight.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Never mind—but rub; and, as thou dost, repeat +these words:</p> + + <p class="p00"> + <i>Lady love, lady love, where e'er thou be,</i><br /> + <i>Think of no man but only me;</i><br /> + <i>Love me, and wed me, and call me thine own,</i><br /> + <i>Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, Joan.</i><br /> + </p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> What is that "Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling"?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> That is the chief element of the charm—don't forget +it. Having done this on nine successive days—dost +thou follow me?</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Aye, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> On the tenth go to the barber's and have thy hair +cut short.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> But, sir, my hair is my best feature!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> It is with many; cut it, however, or lose the worth +of all of the charm. Dost thou hear, Diggory? Cut thy +hair short or never win fair woman. Farewell.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> I thank you, sir. [<i>Going</i>] "Lady love, ting-a-ling"—nay, +that's not it.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Diggory!</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Yes, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Who are with the Governor?</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> The worthy ministers, Master Wilson and Master +Dimsdell.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p class="pt00"><i>Roger.</i> Very well.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Exit Diggory, trying to recall the verse.</i></p> +<p class="p00">Ah! Diggory, thou art but a dram of love in a fluid ounce +of fool! And so may we label all mankind. For instance: +the Governor is a wise man and a politic; Wilson a good +man and a pious; Dimsdell—ah! there I pause, for what +fine formula can sum the qualities of that same Arthur Dimsdell? +He's not a fool; nor mad; nor truly cataleptic—yet +he's moody, falls in trance, and I suspect his power as a +preacher comes from ecstasy. Something he is akin to +genius—yet he hath it not, for though his aim be true +enough, he often flashes in the pan when genius would have +hit the mark. I'll write his case in Latin! What a study +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +that would be if I could first find out the reason why he +clutches at his breast!—If once I find him in a trance, alone—ah! +here they come.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Governor Bellingham</span>, <span class="smcap">Rev. John Wilson</span>, +<span class="smcap">Rev. Arthur Dimsdell</span>, and following them, +with a tray of wine, <span class="smcap">Diggory</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Wilson.</i> Good morrow, Doctor.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Good morning, gentlemen.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> [<i>To Diggory.</i>] Leave the wine within the summer +house. Good morning, Doctor. When Mistress Prynne +doth come conduct her hither.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Sir, she's coming this way now.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Very well. Go. [<i>Exit Diggory.</i>] Doctor, we +debate what disposition should be made of Hester Prynne's +young child. We ask your aid—but here she is.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Hester Prynne</span>.</i></p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Your worship hath been pleased to summon me<br /> +To bring my child before you.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 7em;">Where is the child?</span></p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> The babe is sick but answers by attorney.<br /> +What is your will?</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Some pious matrons, Hester,</span><br /> +Have charged that thou art not a person fit<br /> +To rear that infant immortality,<br /> +And guide it unto God.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> <span style="margin-left: 5em;">God gave the child</span><br /> +In rich exchange for all things else which I,<br /> +Poor sinful I, had forfeited; and now<br /> +You, who have made yourselves the flails of God,<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +Would separate the wheat from chaff before<br /> +The grain is ripe, and take her from me.<br /> +Oh! ye are wise! No doubt ye see beyond<br /> +The purpose of Almighty God who gave<br /> +The child to me!</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 6em;">Nay, take it not to heart,</span><br /> +For, Hester, duty to the child we owe<br /> +To put its soul upon the way that leads<br /> +To Heaven. She will be cared for tenderly.</p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> She is the last small link that binds my soul<br /> +To earth, the tiny needle that doth point<br /> +My way to Heaven. You shall not take her from me!<br /> +Speak thou for me [<i>To Dimsdell</i>]; as my pastor speak;<br /> +Speak now; and say if any harm from me<br /> +Will hurt the child. I will not part with her!<br /> +Say if thou canst, for thou hast sympathies<br /> +Which these men lack, say what the mother's rights<br /> +Are in her child; and what those rights must be<br /> +When naught beside the child is left to <span style="white-space: nowrap;">her—</span><br /> +Her husband gone, her friends deserted,<br /> +No reputation, no sympathy, no <span style="white-space: nowrap;">love—</span><br /> +But only those twin brands of shame, her baby<br /> +And The Scarlet Letter!</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I have a dual duty to discharge;<br /> +I am this woman's pastor—and her friend,<br /> +And therefore she hath called me to defend her;<br /> +I am, beside, a member of your council,<br /> +And hence am with you in your consultation;<br /> +And yet, I think, these duties may be made<br /> +To yoke and draw me to a just conclusion.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Wilson.</i> Thou also hast a duty to the child.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Aye, so I have. Our aim is well enough,<br /> +But let us pause before we do adopt<br /> +A means that varies from the one marked out<br /> +By God and Nature.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 4em;">Is there not command</span><br /> +To teach our children in the fear of God<br /> +And guide them from impurity?</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> God gave us mothers when He gave us life,<br /> +And to their tender care He did entrust<br /> +The mortal and immortal parts of us.<br /> +What then? Would we improve upon His system;<br /> +Would we now deprive this little one<br /> +Of that fond mother-care which nurtures her?<br /> +Or would we put, in place of mother-love,<br /> +The cold, hard, formal training of a paid<br /> +Instructor?</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> But is this woman, stained with sin,<br /> +A mother to entrust a child to?</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> That question God hath answered; and we know<br /> +The stain of sin doth fade beneath the bleach<br /> +Of true repentance; through it all appears<br /> +The woven figure of the woman-fabric—<br /> +Her motherhood!<br /> +We owe our lives to woman's suffering,<br /> +We owe our health unto her temperance,<br /> +We owe her all the best of us. Let God<br /> +Condemn her sin, but let us not presume<br /> +To punish her where He hath healed her heart.</p> + +<p><i>Wilson.</i> There is weight in what he says.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Yea, and earnestness!</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Well, Hester, go thy way; the child is thine.<br /> +Remember thou dost owe a gentle thanks<br /> +Unto this pious man. Go, Hester, keep<br /> +The child. Think well upon his words; be thou<br /> +A mother in all righteousness, as well<br /> +As in thy sin. Farewell.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Hester.</i> I thank you, gentlemen.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p><i>Wilson.</i> That woman would have been a noble wife<br /> +Had not some villain robbed her of her dower.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Come, gentlemen, this business well is ended,<br /> +And, Dimsdell, yours is all the credit of it;<br /> +For one I thank you.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> We all do thank you, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Come, let us drain a cup of wine; and then<br /> +Go in.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I beg you to excuse me.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> <span style="margin-left: 15em;">And me,</span><br /> +I pray. I'll stay with Dimsdell.</p> + +<p class="pt00"><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 9em;">Well, Wilson, you</span><br /> +Shall not escape me. Gentlemen, the wine<br /> +We leave you; keep it company.—And, Dimsdell,<br /> +Forget it not, to-morrow thou must preach<br /> +A grand election sermon. The people do</p> + +<div class="left"> + <p class="p000l">Expect a master effort, man. Fail not.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Exeunt Governor and Wilson.</i></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> He will not fail them, Governor; a tongue<br /> +Of flame is his. What ails thee, Dimsdell?<br /> +How now? Why man!</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I'm very weak. The pain about my <span style="white-space: nowrap;">heart—</span></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Nay, courage, man! 'Twill leave thee soon. +I'll get a cup of wine to cheer thee up.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Do, I pray. And, Doctor, give me something +to abate this agony.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Roger.</i> I will.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Try how I may, there's no escape from pain.<br /> +I robbed the law's strong arm, and thereby put<br /> +The lash in conscience' hand—and yet I thought<br /> +Hypocrisy a duty to my calling!<br /> +'Twere better I were known as what I am,<br /> +Than still to hide my sin beneath the garb<br /> +Of outward purity! 'Twere better now,<br /> +By Hester's side, to bear opprobrium,<br /> +And brave what man may do, than still to nurse<br /> +This misery in secret!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Re-enter <span class="smcap">Roger</span> with wine-tray; places it upon a bench and, +taking a vial from a pocket medicine-case, pours a few drops +into a wine-glass, then fills the glass with wine.</i></p> + +<p class="pt00"><i>Roger.</i> A minim more would lull him into sleep.<br /> +Here is the chance—and here the will—to learn<br /> +His secret malady. What holds me back?<br /> +Conscience? Tut, tut! It will not harm him!<br /> +'Twill do him good to sleep; 'twill do me good<br /> +To know the why he clutches at his breast.</p> +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">I'll do it.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Pours more from vial.</i></p> +<p class="p00">Sir, drink this off.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I thank thee, kind physician.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Drinks.</i></p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Roger.</i> Nay, thank me not. Now, take a glass of wine.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Giving him another glass.</i></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Methinks, the wine is richer than is common.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Thirst always gives an added age to wine.<br /> +This is right Xeres. Hast been in Spain?</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Nay, but the wine hath. I feel its warmth.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Truly, it is a grand inquisitor;<br /> +'Twill search each petty heresy that taints<br /> +Thy blood, and burn it to a cinder.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> How many leagues it came to serve my need.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Aye, a thousand, and a thousand more!</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I would not go so far for it just now,<br /> +For through my limbs there creeps a lang'rous ease<br /> +Like that which doth precede deep slumber.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p class="pt00"><i>Roger.</i> Rest here upon this bench.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Dimsdell sits, half reclining.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Give way unto your drowsiness; it is<br /> +Not sleep, but rest and relaxation. There!<br /> +I'll keep you company.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Do.</p> + +<p class="pt00"><i>Roger.</i> [<i>Pouring wine and drinking.</i>] This wine is liquid gold.<br /> +I quaff to your good health and ease of mind.<br /> +This is good wine. It warms my chilly blood<br /> +With all the dreamy heat of Spain. I hear<br /> +The clack of th' castinet and th' droning twang<br /> +Of stringéd instruments; while there before<br /> +Mine eyes brown, yielding beauties dance in time<br /> +To the pulsing music of a saraband!</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">And yet there is a flavor of the sea,</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Sipping wine.</i></p> + +<p class="p000">The long-drawn heaving of the ocean wave,<br /> +The gentle cradling of a tropic tide;<br /> +Its native golden sun—I fear you sleep?<br /> +Or do the travels of the wine so rock<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +Your soul that self is lost in revery?<br /> +Why, man, dream not too much of placid bliss;<br /> +Nor wine, nor man, can reach this clear perfection<br /> +Until they pass the rack of thunder and</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">Of hurricane.—'Tis on us now! Awake!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Shouting in Dimsdell's ear.</i></p> + +<p class="p000">My friend, awake! Dost thou not hear the storm?<br /> +Oh! how it shrieks and whistles through the shrouds!<br /> +The awful guns of heaven boom in our <span style="white-space: nowrap;">ears—</span><br /> +Nay, that was the mainsail gone by the board,<br /> +Flapping with cannon roar.<br /> +You do not follow me. O, come, I say!<br /> +This is no sermon. You cannot be asleep,<br /> +Yet feign you are to cheat me of my story.<br /> +Wake up, my friend. You carry the jest too far.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Roger cautiously shakes Dimsdell.</i></p> + +<div class="left"> + <p class="p000l">So soon! So sound!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Looks around.</i></p> + +<p class="p000">I fear you are not easy; thus. That's better.<br /> +Your pardon, sir, your collar's much too tight.<br /> +Now will I steal his hidden mystery,<br /> +And learn the secret of his lengthened pain;<br /> +Cure him and gain great honor. To think a man<br /> +Would case himself in buttons like an armour!<br /> +Now, <span style="white-space: nowrap;">shirt——</span><br /> +Merciful God! what miracle is this!<br /> +A stigma! Aye! a stigma! the letter "A"<br /> +In blood suffused! The counterpart of that<br /> +Which Hester wears, but palpitating here<br /> +In life! This is beyond my skill.<br /> +Ah! David! David! Thou art the man! Thou wouldst<br /> +Have set me in the hot forefront of battle<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +Hadst thou but known me as Uriah!<br /> +Bah!<br /> +Why, what a brainless dullard have I been,<br /> +To see this pretty puff-ball of a preacher<br /> +Wax large before mine eyes in righteous <span style="white-space: nowrap;">husk—</span><br /> +And think him whole within—when but a touch,<br /> +But one, had aired his rottenness!<br /> +Oh! dotard that I am! blind, deaf and stupid!<br /> +It takes a miracle to make me see<br /> +What lay before me open. He did take<br /> +Her part; ever professed himself her friend;<br /> +And at her trial fell in trance. What more?<br /> +He is the man! He is the man!<br /> +Now ends our game of hoodman blind; oh, I<br /> +Was warm, so very warm at times, so hot,<br /> +Did almost touch thee; yet I knew thee not<br /> +For him I sought. Thou cunning hypocrite!<br /> +It must be I am fitted to my state,<br /> +Dull, trusting and incapable;<br /> +Or else—why surely I'm a <span style="white-space: nowrap;">fool.—</span><br /> +Had I been here when Hester bore her child,<br /> +I would have fondly dreamed it was mine own;<br /> +Put on the unearned pride that old men wear<br /> +When their young wives bear children.<br /> +A pretty baby, sir! My grandchild?—No;<br /> +Mine own; my very own! Nay, wrong me not;<br /> +I'm not so old—not so damned old after all!<br /> +A ghe! a ghoo! Are not the eyes like <span style="white-space: nowrap;">mine?—</span><br /> +Yea, would have dandled it upon my knee,<br /> +And coddled each succeeding drop, as though<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +My fires had distilled them.<br /> +But—now I know—my knowledge must be hid.<br /> +Back shirt! cover blazoned infamy<br /> +And let the whited front still hide from man<br /> +The sepulchre of crime that festers here.<br /> +He will not wake within an hour. I'll go<br /> +Inform the Governor he sleeps, and have<br /> +Him order none disturb his pious rest.<br /> +Then I'll return and calmly probe his soul.</p> + +<div class="left"> + <p class="p000l">Sleep on! Sleep on!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Exit Roger.</i></p> + + +<div class="scn"><h3><a name="Act_III_ScII" id="Act_III_ScII">Scene II.</a></h3>—<i>Another part of the garden. Enter alone, <span class="smcap">Diggory</span>.</i></div> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> If there be no true charm but it hath a touch of +folly in it, this one must be most potent. Now a wise man +would not think there's that virtue in a bit of grease, a +jingling rhyme, and a hair cut, that one might thereby win +a woman's love—but the wise are fools in love. I have here +the lard of three bears—one more than the old adage of +"bear and forbear"—and with it I am to anoint my head +as an enchantment to bring about my marriage to Betsey—marry, +I'll temper the strength of the charm with a little +bergamot, for in truth two of the bears have been dead over-long. +Whew!—Aha! enchantment is the only highway to +success in love! Now let me see: "Lady love, lady love, +where'er you <span style="white-space: nowrap;">be"—</span></p> + +<p><i>Betsey.</i> [<i>Singing behind the scenes</i>]</p> + <p class="p00"> + <i>Little bird, little bird, come tell me true;</i><br /> + <i>If I love my love, as your love loves you,</i><br /> + <i>And if he loves me, as you love your mate;</i><br /> + <i>Can hardly be called, sirs, quite sober.</i> + </p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> That's Betsey singing now! If the charm works +like this, bear fat will be worth its weight in gold. But +perhaps my features may have pleased her after all—I'm +not bad to look upon; and truly I would save my hair; it's +the best part about me. Singing again.</p> + +<p><i>Betsey.</i> [<i>Singing behind the scenes</i>]</p> + <p class="p00"> + <i>In Summer-tide, sweet Summer-tide,</i><br /> + <i>O, what can a maiden do,</i><br /> + <i>If, while he walks close by her side,</i><br /> + <i>Her lover begins to woo?</i> + </p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Now I wonder where she learnt all those profane +songs? From some liberal folk in the old country, no +doubt; they ill become a puritan. If she were a little +slower in her speech, what an angel she would be! As it is, +she is a very good woman, tongue and all.</p> + +<p><i>Betsey.</i> [<i>Singing again, behind the scenes.</i>]</p> + + <p class="p00"> +<i>For her, of buttercups and violets,</i><br /> +<i>A circlet for her hair he makes;</i><br /> +<i>And sings, in roundelays and triolets,</i><br /> +<i>A song that soon her fancy takes.</i><br /> +<i>In Summer-tide, sweet Summer-tide,</i><br /> +<i>O, what can a maiden do,</i><br /> +<i>If, while he walks close by her side,</i><br /> +<i>Her lover begins to woo?</i> + </p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> I'm not a judge of songs, but if she means half +she says—and a woman sometimes does—some one is about +to be the top feather in Fortune's cap; it may be me. I'll +try my luck once more. [<i>Going toward R. wing</i>] Why, here +she comes.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Betsey</span>, with a pair of butter paddles.</i></p> + +<p><i>Betsey.</i> [<i>Entering.</i>]</p> + +<p class="p00"> +<i>Adown the moonlit path they walk,</i><br /> +<i>Through all the world called lover's lane,</i><br /> +<i>And hand in hand they sigh and talk</i><br /> +<i>Of the love that binds them, happy twain!</i><br /> + </p> + +<p>What are you gaping like a great gaby for?</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> For Fortune to drop the plum into my mouth.</p> + +<p><i>Betsey.</i> Where is the plum?</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> There. [<i>Pointing at her.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Betsey.</i> You silly fellow! yesterday I was a peach; the day +before strawberries and cream; the day before that a rose; +and last week a dove—marry, I don't coo for you! Can I +be all these things at once and still be Betsey Tomkins?</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> O, Betsey, thou art all the world to me!</p> + +<p><i>Betsey.</i> O, Diggory, thou art a great fool to me! Why, +man, thy head is as soft as a pat of butter; I could take it +between my paddles, like this, and mold it into any shape I +chose.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> So you may, Betsey; so you may. And, Betsey, +for the love of mercy, mold it into the head of thy future +husband.</p> + +<p><i>Betsey.</i> 'Twould take a pair of shears to do that.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Wouldst thou marry me, Betsey, if I should +lose my pretty locks?</p> + +<p><i>Betsey.</i> I would not marry you with them, that's flat.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Shall I shave my head or only clip it close?</p> + +<p><i>Betsey.</i> Cut it off, Diggory, cut it off.</p> + +<p><i>Diggory.</i> Kiss me but once, Betsey, and I'll cut my head +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +off; 'tis of little use to me now, and if thou dost marry me—well, +thy head shall rest upon my shoulder, like this, and +one head is enough for any pair of shoulders.</p> + + +<p class="pt00"><i>Betsey.</i> <span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>In Summer-tide, sweet Summer-tide,</i></span></p> +<div class="left"> + <p class="i8"><i>O, what can a maiden do</i>, etc.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Exeunt.</i></p> + + +<div class="scn"><h3><a name="Act_III_ScIII" id="Act_III_ScIII">Scene III.</a></h3>—<i>The same as in Scene I of this act. Dimsdell +asleep upon a garden bench, half reclining. Enter <span class="smcap">Roger +Prynne</span>, called Chillingworth.</i></div> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> To kill were easy; aye, but—to stretch his life<br /> +As on a rack—were that not better still?<br /> +Dead, I'd bury with him my revenge;<br /> +But while he lives the old account will stand<br /> +At daily usury.<br /> +I'll tent his agony, prolong it here,<br /> +Even here where I may feed upon it;<br /> +Not send him hence beyond my reach. Aye!<br /> +I'll fight with death to keep him for mine own.<br /> +But, <span style="white-space: nowrap;">now—</span><br /> +O, I must calm myself or miss my aim!<br /> +For, like a hunter when first he sees the buck,<br /> +My nerves are all unstrung. This weakling trick<br /> +Of overearnestness betrays the fool<br /> +In me; and yet we know it, though we profit not,<br /> +The eager hand doth ever spill the cup<br /> +That lifted carefully would quench our thirst.<br /> +I must assume a wise placidity;<br /> +As he puts on—Ah! damnéd <span style="white-space: nowrap;">hypocrite!—</span><br /> +The air of purity. (<i>Approaches Dimsdell.</i>)<br /> +I'll drink dissimulation at the source;<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +I'll study him.—Thus might an angel look<br /> +When, wearied with the music of the spheres,<br /> +He laid him down upon a roseate bank<br /> +To dream of holiness!—He hath not <span style="white-space: nowrap;">stirred.—</span><br /> +'Twas well I did not speak to Bellingham,<br /> +For we have not been noted. Good, so far.<br /> +All eyes are busy with their own affairs;<br /> +I'll wake him now and foil discovery.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Takes vial from pocket medicine case.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Our native drugs are balanced well; one plant<br /> +Sucks in the beams the sleepy moon sends down,<br /> +Another drinks the waking draught of dawn.<br /> +That made him sleep, but this—Ah!<br /> +A mouldy mummied corse that in the tomb<br /> +A thousand years had lain, would wake once more,<br /> +If but three drops of this should touch its lips.<br /> +I'll give you, sir, but two.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Drops liquid into glass and fills with wine.</i></p> + +<p>There, swallow it.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Administering to Dimsdell.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Now, let me see—he must not know how long<br /> +He slept,—and by the sun it is not <span style="white-space: nowrap;">long—</span><br /> +I have't; I'll make him think he merely lost<br /> +Himself while I was talking.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Dimsdell stirs. Roger pours a glass of wine and takes position +he occupied when Dimsdell fell asleep. Speaks as +in continuation of former speech.</i></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p00">Mellow wine<br /> +Is Nature's golden bounty unto man.<br /> +And it hath well been said: Dame Nature is<br /> +A gentle mother if we follow her;<br /> +But if she drives our steps no fury wields<br /> +A fiercer lash; yet all her punishments<br /> +Are kindly meant; our puny faculties<br /> +Would nest forever fledgeling in our minds,<br /> +Did not her wise austerity compel<br /> +Their flight.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Dimsdell wakes with a start and recovers himself as one who +would not seem rude.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Or, put the same in other words:<br /> +That man is noble who doth fear no fate<br /> +Which may afflict humanity; but, like<br /> +A gallant soldier, meets the charge half way,<br /> +And takes his wounds a-jesting.<br /> +Now ev'ry one of us, whom Nature whips,<br /> +Must take it meekly; for she means our good;<br /> +And learn to go along with her.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> <span style="margin-left: 12em;">I fear</span><br /> +I dozed and lost the thread of argument.<br /> +I pray you, pardon me.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> <span style="margin-left: 9em;">I did not note it.</span><br /> +But, be it so, come sun yourself; drive out<br /> +The fog and vapor that becloud your mind,<br /> +And let the warmth of nature take their place.<br /> +Nature retrieves our losses, or charges them<br /> +Against us; all things do rest, even the plants<br /> +Do slumber as they grow.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> How greedily<br /> +The flow'rs drink up the wine our golden sun<br /> +Pours down on them, yet blush to own their drinking!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> This is the New World, man; and Nature here<br /> +Is lusty; drink in thy dole of heat and light;<br /> +For even I, drenched in the golden rain,<br /> +Feel pulsings of lost paradise that make<br /> +My blood leap with th' quick-step bound of youth.<br /> +This is the very show'r of gold in which<br /> +Jove comes to fill the longing world with life.<br /> +And as he kisses her with ling'ring lips,<br /> +All Nature lies wide open to th' warm embrace<br /> +And quickens in his arms.—All, all, but thou!<br /> +For thou art single as the northern pole;<br /> +As cold, as distant, and unreachable<br /> +To what hath passion's warmth; and, though<br /> +Thy life be at its summer solstice—bright<br /> +With day—thy heart still turns to barren ice,<br /> +More bleak than many a wintry age.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> How can I change my disposition, Doctor?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Widen the thin ecliptic of thy life;<br /> +Revolve upon another axis, man;<br /> +Let love, the sun of life, beam meltingly<br /> +Upon thy heart and thaw it into happiness.<br /> +Marry, man, marry.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I cannot marry: I have my work to do.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> If work precedent were to love, the world<br /> +Would be unpeopled. This is the month of June,<br /> +And now the locust and the linden tree<br /> +Do wed the zephyrs as they blow, and weight<br /> +The air with oversweetness.—What song is that?</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">[<i>Voice of Betsey singing behind scenes.</i>]</p> + +<p class="p00"> + <i>For her, of buttercups and violets,</i><br /> + <i>A circlet for her hair he makes;</i><br /> + <i>And sings, in roundelays and triolets,</i><br /> + <i>A song that soon her fancy takes.</i><br /> + <i>In Summer-tide, sweet Summer-tide,</i><br /> + <i>O, what can a maiden do,</i><br /> + <i>If, while he walks close by her side,</i><br /> + <i>Her lover begins to woo?</i> +</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> That maid is innocent and happy too.<br /> +You may have noticed that—when the heart<br /> +Is pure—love overflows the lips in song<br /> +As sweet and limpid as a mountain spring;<br /> +But—when it's bitter with base <span style="white-space: nowrap;">treachery—</span><br /> +It dams itself against all utterance,<br /> +And either mines the soul, or, breaking forth,<br /> +Sweeps downward to destruction. Oh! 'tis true,<br /> +Love is the lyric happiness of youth;<br /> +And they, who sing its perfect melody,<br /> +Do from the honest parish register<br /> +Still take their tune. And so must you. For you<br /> +Are now in the very period of youth<br /> +When myriads of unborn beings knock loud and long<br /> +Upon the willing portals of the heart<br /> +For entrance into life. Deny it not;<br /> +I say but truth—I once was young myself.<br /> +Behold the means!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Martha Wilson</span>, carrying a bunch of roses.</i></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Oh! Oh! [<i>Clasps his breast.</i>]</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Whither so fast, Martha, that thou canst not speak +to us?</p> + +<p><i>Martha.</i> Oh! I beg your pardon, Doctor. Good morning, +sir. I seek my father; is he with the Governor?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Knowledge is costly, Martha; yet thou art rich +enough to buy more than information. For one of those +sweet roses, I'll tell you he is well and with the Governor.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Martha.</i> You beg it prettily.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Giving Roger a rose.</i></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Pure and fragrant as the giver—marry, the blush +becomes it not so well; it does not come and go. Martha, +thy father and the Governor are in the library. Is that not +worth another rose?</p> + +<p><i>Martha.</i> Nay, only a very little one; for when he talks of +books he's always loath to come with me.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Nay, slander him not. But, Martha, books or no +books, for two more roses I will bring him here; and, truly, +fathers were cheap at three roses apiece. What say you?</p> + +<p class="pt00"><i>Martha.</i> Nay, I'll go myself; but do not think I grudge +the roses; here they are. You have not begged of me [<i>To +Dimsdell</i>]. May I beg you to accept this? Gentlemen, farewell.</p> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Exit Martha.</i></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Roses, and you asked her not!<br /> +In love! in love! up to the eyes in love!<br /> +She'll drown in love unless you marry her!</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Oh! that I were worthy of her!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Dost love her, Dimsdell? Ah! she's worthy love.<br /> +She's fair and young; of gentle birth and rich;<br /> +And warm and pure and spirit-like as flame<br /> +That floats above new brandy.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Out upon thee, satyr! Thou dishonorest her.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Not a whit. Is't dishonor to her purity<br /> +To urge thy smoky flame to brightness worthy<br /> +Of her? 'Tis what she wishes most; witness<br /> +Her confusion and her telltale blushes.<br /> +Do me justice, man; my thoughts are pure<br /> +And dwell on lawful marriage only. Thou, thou<br /> +Alone, couldst see impurity in that.<br /> +I spoke of thee, man, of thee; and who<br /> +Beside thyself would think a mottled thought<br /> +Could touch a maiden linked to thee in words<br /> +Or fact?</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Oh! Oh!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Clutching at his breast.</i></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Had I young daughters by the score, each fair<br /> +As Hebe, as voluptuous as Venus,<br /> +All thinly clad as in the golden age,<br /> +I could not wish a chaster keeper of them.<br /> +Nay, had I wives in droves like Solomon,<br /> +I'd make thee Kislah Aga of my harem,<br /> +Chief eunuch and sole security—What!<br /> +Call me satyr when I urge in bounds<br /> +The boundless beauties of pure maidenhood,<br /> +And bid thee wed them! Thus best advices are<br /> +Construed amiss, and what we kindly mean<br /> +Turned into scorn and filthiness!</p> + + + +<p class="pt00"><i>Dimsdell.</i> Forgive me, Doctor; I'm ill at ease. This pain<br /> +Is like a stick thrust in a spring; it muddies</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">All my thoughts. Oh! Oh!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Pressing his hands to his breast.</i></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Come, Dimsdell, listen to a bit of reason.<br /> +Thy body is as sound as a red apple<br /> +In November. The pain's imaginary.<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +Marry, man, marry; thy wife will prove<br /> +A counter-irritant and drive the pain away.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> No more of that, I pray you.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Not enough of it, not enough of it!</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> No more, no more! I must not marry.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Think once again, man; if that thy mind<br /> +Can pardon the suggestion—and, mark, I urge it<br /> +With all diffidence—there is a way,<br /> +Wherein the low opinion thou doth hold<br /> +Of thine own virtues—not held by any <span style="white-space: nowrap;">else—</span><br /> +May wed with beauty all unspeakable,<br /> +Raise up a noble lady, and show thy christian<br /> +Spirit to the world.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> And what is that?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> <span style="margin-left: 11em;">Wed Hester Prynne.</span></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Wed Hester Prynne?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> <span style="margin-left: 9em;">Aye! 'twas that I said.</span><br /> +She is a paragon—nay, beauty's self.<br /> +All other women are but kitchen-maids<br /> +Beside her loveliness.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Wed Hester Prynne!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> I hear her husband left her well to do;<br /> +And as for that small blot that sullies her<br /> +'Twill fade when covered by thy name.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Hester Prynne!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> What act more merciful, more christianlike?<br /> +Redeem the reputation of her child,<br /> +And to the jeers of fools stop up thine ears;<br /> +Enwrap thee in her gentle arms, lay down<br /> +Thine aching head upon her tender breast,<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +And dream thyself in paradise.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Thou fiend of Hell! I know thee now; thou cam'st<br /> +But once in thine own form, and ever since<br /> +Hast been too near me in a worser one.<br /> +Back to the pit, I say! No more of tempting!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Art mad? I'm man as thou dost seem to be;<br /> +I'm not a fiend.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> What dost thou know?</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Shaking Roger by the shoulders.</i></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Only this—thou art as cowardly<br /> +As thou art lecherous. What! betray<br /> +A woman! Desert her in her misery!<br /> +Refuse to marry her!<br /> +And all the while, cloaked in thy ministry,<br /> +Dispense the sacraments of God to <span style="white-space: nowrap;">children—</span><br /> +How canst thou do it?</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> If thou be not Satan, why raise this cloud?<br /> +Why vanish from my sight? Yet I did touch him even <span style="white-space: nowrap;">now—</span><br /> +I'll kill him—Kill, kill, kill—now, now, <span style="white-space: nowrap;">now—</span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> In trance again! Help! Help! Help!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Dimsdell becomes rigid; with arm uplifted as if to strike a death +blow. His speech thickens, and he stands motionless. +Roger supports him.</i></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h2><span class="smcap"><a name="Act_IV" id="Act_IV">Act IV.</a></span></h2> + + +<div class="scn"><h3><a name="Act_IV_ScI" id="Act_IV_ScI">Scene I.</a></h3>—<i>A room. <span class="smcap">Dimsdell</span> upon a couch in a cataleptic +trance. <span class="smcap">Roger Prynne</span> watching him. Two chairs; +other furniture heavy and immovable.</i></div> + +<p class="pt00"><i>Roger.</i> [<i>Feeling Dimsdell's pulse</i>] There's been no change.<br /> +A very long trance.<br /> +At times he mumbles; at other times, as now,<br /> +He lies like death. If ev'ry murderer<br /> +Were stricken with the image of the thing<br /> +Which he would deal, 'twould be a blessing! Yet<br /> +When consciousness returns, with it will come<br /> +The murderous disposition; for in these cases<br /> +The mind, although it wanders while the trance<br /> +Is on, always comes back upon its path<br /> +Where first it left It. Therefore, 'twere wise in me<br /> +To be on guard. Well, so I am; but <span style="white-space: nowrap;">what—</span><br /> +What fear should drive me hence, or make me leave<br /> +The study of his case? He hath no arms<br /> +But such as both of us were born with;<br /> +And despite my age I am his equal that way.<br /> +Ah! a chair swung by a furious man<br /> +Might make an omelet of my brain;</p> +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">Therefore, one chair will do—and that for me.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Removes chair.</i></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter <span class="smcap">Governor Bellingham</span> in robes of office.</i></p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Good morning, Doctor.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Good morning, Governor. I wish you, sir,<br /> +As happy and as prosperous a term<br /> +In office, as that just closing.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 12em;">I thank you, sir.</span><br /> +Has Dimsdell recovered from his trance?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Not yet. There he lies.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> <span style="margin-left: 11em;">Wonderful!</span><br /> +Can you account for his condition, Doctor?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> There's no accounting for it, Governor.<br /> +This is the second trance I've seen him in;<br /> +How many more he's had, God only knows.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> 'Tis most unfortunate that we must lack<br /> +His eloquence to-day. The people, who<br /> +Always love high-sounding words more than<br /> +Wise thoughts, prefer the music of his voice<br /> +To good old Wilson's drone. Why isn't he in bed?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Oh! there are many reasons; 'twould take too long<br /> +To tell you now; but at another time<br /> +I'll ask your patience for a tale more strange<br /> +Than ever made your flesh to creep.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Is there mystery in the case?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Mystery! aye, and miracle, too!<br /> +You know him, Governor—a man whose nerves<br /> +Are gossamers, too fine to sift the music<br /> +Of the blasts that blow about our burly world,<br /> +And only fit for harps whereon Zephyrus<br /> +In Elysium might breathe.—And yet this <span style="white-space: nowrap;">man—</span><br /> +Oh! you'd not believe it if I told you.</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Enter</i> Servant.</p> + +<p><i>Servant.</i> Your worship is asked for at the door.</p> + +<div class="left"> + <p class="pt00"><i>Governor.</i> Say I am coming. We'll speak again of this.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Exit Servant.</i></p> +<p class="p000">I must be gone. We servants of the State<br /> +Are slaves to show, and serve the people best<br /> +When most we trick them. The pageant of the day<br /> +Goes much against my better judgment, but<br /> +The crowd will have it so, and so farewell.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> One moment, if you please. If he revives<br /> +He'll pick the thread of life up where he dropt it;<br /> +He may desire to preach, as he hath promised you,<br /> +And, if he doth, 'twere better not to thwart him.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Very well. I'll speak to Wilson.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> I'm sorry I cannot go with you. Farewell.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Exit Governor. Dimsdell moves. Roger goes to his side and +examines him.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">The pulse hath quickened. He moves his lips.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Dimsdell mumbles indistinctly.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">I cannot catch <span style="white-space: nowrap;">it.—</span></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Think of it no more, my <span style="white-space: nowrap;">love.—</span><br /> +Our troubles now are ended, Hester;<br /> +The gentle current of our mingled lives,<br /> +Long parted by the barren, rocky isle<br /> +Of hard necessity, flows reunited on.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Indeed!</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> How sweet it is, in the afternoon of life,<br /> +To walk thus, hand in hand, Hester. And as<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +The golden sun of love falls gently down<br /> +Into the purple glory of the West,<br /> +We'll follow it.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> <span style="margin-left: 6em;">A lengthy jump—from sinning youth</span><br /> +Plump into the middle of an honored age!<br /> +Yet thus the mind, in trance or dream, achieves<br /> +Without an effort what it wills. Again?</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Sir, take my daughter and my blessing, too;<br /> +Cherish her as the apple of thine eye;<br /> +Still shield her from the buffets of the world;<br /> +Let thy tenderness breathe gentle love<br /> +Like an Italian air sung at twilight,<br /> +When the melody without tunes that within<br /> +Until the soul arising on the wings<br /> +Of music soars into Heaven.</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Is there nothing in heredity? Or will<br /> +The orange-blossom take its fragrance from<br /> +The Heaven above; its origin forgot?</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Hester, although the snow upon thy head<br /> +Be white as that on yonder distant mount,<br /> +Thine eyes are blue and deep as Leman's lake<br /> +That lies before us.</p> + +<p class="pt00"><i>Roger.</i> Thus in our dreams we picture what we wish;<br /> +Not held to time or place; and while the body,<br /> +Like an anchor, sinks in mud, the wingéd craft<br /> +Swings with the tide of thought.<br /> +He's in Geneva now; Hester with him;<br /> +His daughter honorably married;<br /> +And all the pains of yesterday forgot.</p> + +<div class="left"> + <p class="p000l">I'll write it down.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Roger makes notes.</i></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Good night, dear wife, good night.<br /> +The stars of Heaven melt into angel forms<br /> +Which stoop to lift me to the gates of bliss.<br /> +Farewell, farewell! Nay, weep not, Hester;<br /> +Our sins are now forgiven.<br /> +Yea, though I walk through the valley of th' shadow of death,<br /> +I will fear no evil.—Say it with me, Hester.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p class="pt00"><i>Roger.</i> Will he die thus?</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Examines Dimsdell.</i></p> +<p class="p000">The pulse is weak—a clammy <span style="white-space: nowrap;">sweat—</span><br /> +'Tis but the culmination of the trance.<br /> +'Tis but a dream. A dream! Yet one must die;<br /> +And to our human thought that death were best<br /> +That came preceded by a flag of truce<br /> +To parley peace. To pass away in <span style="white-space: nowrap;">dreams—</span><br /> +Without the vain regret for work undone;<br /> +Without a load of sin to weight the soul;<br /> +With all the argentry of honored age<br /> +To frost our past; with all the fiercer heats<br /> +Of life burnt out into the cold, gray <span style="white-space: nowrap;">ash—</span><br /> +That were peace! Then might a man yield up<br /> +The willing ghost as calmly as a child<br /> +That falls asleep upon its mother's breast<br /> +To wake in paradise.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Dimsdell starts up.</i></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I see thee now—and now I'll kill, kill, <span style="white-space: nowrap;">kill—</span><br /> +If thou be Satan I cannot harm <span style="white-space: nowrap;">thee—</span><br /> +But if a <span style="white-space: nowrap;">man—</span></p> + +<p class="center"><i>Dimsdell attempts to reach Roger, who keeps the one chair of the +room in front of him and thus wards off Dimsdell.</i></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Madman, listen! Thou canst not harm me, yet I +am not Satan. My name is Roger Prynne. I am the husband +of the woman you have wronged.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Thou Roger Prynne?</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Aye, Roger Prynne and thine accuser.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Dimsdell looks about the room as though dazed.</i></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Why, how is this?—But now, the Governor's +garden—and now, my room!—But now, just now, old Doctor +Chillingworth—and now, mine enemy, Roger Prynne! +Thou art the Devil himself!—Thou shalt not trick me thus.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Band music in distance.</i></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Trick thee? Why, madman, thou hast been in +trance since yester noon. Trick thee! I like the word! +'Tis now the time of day when thou shouldst preach the +great Election Sermon, the one event that makes or mars +you preachers. Dost hear the music? A day hath passed +since thou wast in the garden. They are marching even +now to the market place.</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> What shall I do?</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Aloud, but to himself.</i></p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> Do? Stay here and settle our account; or else go +on and publish thyself as what thou art—a hypocrite.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I see it now!—Ah! Satan! Satan!—thou +wouldst affright my soul and make me lose my well earned +honors. Why, Roger Prynne is dead—dead. 'Twas told +on good report two years ago. And now—oh! try it if thou +wilt—I'll have thee burnt, burnt—burnt at the stake, if thou +accusest me! Who would believe thee? Stand aside, I say! +Let me pass!</p> + +<p><i>Roger.</i> How came the stigma on thy breast?</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Thou knowest!—Make way, I tell thee!—Thou +didst place it there!—Make way!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>They struggle. Roger interposes the chair between himself and +Dimsdell. Finally, Dimsdell wrenches the chair from +Roger, flings it aside, and, grappling him, +chokes Roger to death.</i></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> [<i>Panting</i>] A man! A man! A man!—Dead! +dead! dead!—Nay—like a man!—Like a dead man!—A +trick!—A devilish trick!—Did he not come in angel form—and +then as Doctor Chillingworth—and then as Roger +Prynne—and now,—and now, as a dead body?</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Spurning Roger with his foot.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">O, Devil, I'll avoid thee yet!—I'll confess my crime and +thus unslip the noose about my soul!</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Hurriedly prepares to depart.</i></p> + +<div class="left"> +<p class="p000l">He said we'd meet again! We have, and 'tis the last time!</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Exit.</i></p> + + +<div class="scn"><h3><a name="Act_IV_ScII" id="Act_IV_ScII">Scene II.</a></h3>—<i>Plain curtain, down. Music. Music ceases; +subdued sounds as of a multitude back of curtain. Then the +voice of Dimsdell rises as quiet returns.</i></div> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> And now, good friends, Electors and Elected,<br /> +Although my speech hath run a lengthened course,<br /> +And what I purposed hath been said in full,<br /> +There's more comes to me now.<br /> +What is our purpose and our destiny?</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Curtain rises rapidly, disclosing stage set as in Act I, Scene III. +Dimsdell upon a rostrum on church steps. Militia standing +at rest. Citizens and officials in gala attire.</i></p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> + +<p class="p00">We call us English, Anglo-Saxon;<br /> +And from the Old we come to build the New,<br /> +The equal England of our expectation.<br /> +Here in the wilderness, the first small germs<br /> +Of man's long-promised freedom find their soil;<br /> +Here hidden will they rot a little while;<br /> +Anon, the sprouts will break our troubled land,<br /> +Thrust forth the first red blades, and thence grow on,<br /> +Forever and forever!<br /> +I see this vast expanse of continent,<br /> +That dwarfs the noble states of cultured Europe,<br /> +Spread out before me like a map, from pole<br /> +To pole, and from the rising to the setting sun.<br /> +I see it teem with myriads; I see<br /> +Its densely peopled towns and villages;<br /> +I see its ports, greater than any known,<br /> +Send forth their riches to the hungry world.<br /> +I see, O blessed, wondrous sight! the strength<br /> +Of Anglo-Saxondom—our mighty England<br /> +And our great America, as <span style="white-space: nowrap;">one—</span><br /> +The Lion and the Eagle side by <span style="white-space: nowrap;">side,—</span><br /> +Leading the vanguard of humanity!<br /> +And more I see; I see the rise of man<br /> +Merely as man!<br /> +Let the day come, O Lord, when man, without<br /> +Addition to that noble title—man—<br /> +Can stand erect before his fellow-man,<br /> +Outface Oppression with his flashing eye,<br /> +And stamp and grind proud Tyranny to dust.<br /> +Put in our hearts, O, Gracious God, the yeast<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +Of freedom; let it work our natures free,<br /> +Although it break to recombine again<br /> +The atoms of each state.<br /> +Send down thy pulsing tongues of burning truth;<br /> +Fire our souls with love of human kind;<br /> +Let hate consume itself; let war thresh out<br /> +The brutal part of man, and fit us for<br /> +The last long period of peace.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>A pause, then cries severally.</i></p> + +<p><i>First Citizen.</i> Is he an angel or a man? Sure Gabriel +himself.</p> + +<p><i>Second Citizen.</i> Look! He faints.</p> + +<p><i>Third Citizen.</i> Poor minister!</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> [<i>Rallying himself</i>] I will speak on.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> My pious friend, wear not thy body out<br /> +To please our willing ears. Thou hast exceeded<br /> +Thy feeble strength already. Cease, man;<br /> +Demosthenes himself could not have stood<br /> +The strain which thou hast undergone. <span style="white-space: nowrap;">Prithee,—</span></p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I thank you; reason not my wastefulness,<br /> +For, if you make me answer you, you cause<br /> +More waste. My taper's burnt already.<br /> +It flickers even now, and, ere I leave<br /> +This place, my light, my life will go.<br /> +Question me not,<br /> +For, now I have fulfilled my public function,<br /> +There hurries on a duty of a private kind<br /> +I must perform at once or not at all;<br /> +Too long delayed already.<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +My friends, my life is flowing fast away,<br /> +I, that should be at full or on the turn,<br /> +Am near my lowest ebb.<br /> +This gnawing at my heart hath eaten through,<br /> +And now my soul releasing body bondage<br /> +Will take its flight—but where?</p> + +<p><i>First Citizen.</i> It goes to Heaven when it flies;<br /> +But go not now.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Behold yon woman with The Scarlet Letter.</p> + +<p><i>Citizens.</i> Oh, shame upon her! Fie!</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Nay, shame on me; her sufferings have made<br /> +Her pure, but mine, beneath this lying robe,<br /> +Have eaten up my heart. Hypocrisy<br /> +Lie there [<i>Taking off gown</i>]. Now, while I do descend these steps<br /> +I leave my former life behind.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Descends and goes toward pillory.</i></p> + +<p class="p00">Come, Hester, come!<br /> +Come take my hand, although it be unworthy.</p> + +<p><i>Second Citizen.</i> Is the man mad, my masters?</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Not mad, friend, not mad; but newly sane.<br /> +Come, my victim, come; assist me up<br /> +The pillory, there let us stand <span style="white-space: nowrap;">together—</span><br /> +The woman of The Scarlet Letter,<br /> +And he who did this wrong.</p> + +<p><i>First Citizen.</i> That holy man is mad. He an adulterer!<br /> +I'll believe it when th' Devil grows blind.</p> + +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Support me, Hester.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>Dimsdell and Hester ascend pillory together.</i></p> + +<p class="p000">Ho! all ye people of the Commonwealth,<br /> +<span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +Behold the man for whom you oft have sought,<br /> +The man who should have borne The Scarlet Letter;<br /> +For I am he.<br /> +If that the last words of one sinful man<br /> +May warn a multitude from sin, who knows<br /> +But that his errors tend toward good at last.<br /> +Let me not think my suffering in vain,<br /> +Or that my crime confessed will lead on others<br /> +Unto their downfall.</p> +<div class="left"> + <p class="p000l">Behold me as I am—O, what a pang</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>He clutches his breast from now on.</i></p> +<p class="p000">Was that—a hypocritical adulterer.<br /> +Oh!—aye, a base, a low adulterer!<br /> +O, God, prolong my breath for this <span style="white-space: nowrap;">confession!—</span><br /> +I wronged this woman who did fondly love me,<br /> +I did neglect her in my cowardice,<br /> +I shunned the public <span style="white-space: nowrap;">scorn.—</span><br /> +O, but a little while!—I stood not with her;<br /> +I was a coward; and did deny my child.<br /> +Delay! Delay!<br /> +Now I avow my crime, I do confess it,<br /> +[<i>Kneels</i>] And here I beg you friends, as I have begged<br /> +My God, forgive me. Oh, I must be <span style="white-space: nowrap;">brief—</span><br /> +If any think that while I walked these streets<br /> +In seeming honor I lacked my punishment,</p> + +<div class="left"> + <p class="p000l">Look <span style="white-space: nowrap;">here.—</span></p> +</div> + <p class="rgh00">[<i>Tearing shirt open and disclosing stigma.</i></p> + +<p class="p000">O—h!<br /> +This cancer did begin to gnaw my breast<br /> +When Hester first put on The Scarlet Letter<br /> +And never since hath once abated.</p> + +<p><i>Voices.</i> O, wonderful! wonderful! He faints! Help! Help!</p> + +<p><span class="retop"><a href="#top" title="Top of File">top</a></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Arthur! Arthur! one word for me! Only one!</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> I must say more.</p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Falls.</i></p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Forgive him, Father! O, God, have mercy now;<br /> +Give him but breath to speak to me!<br /> +Arthur! Arthur!</p> + +<div class="left"> +<p><i>Dimsdell.</i> Hester, my Hester, <span style="white-space: nowrap;">forgive—</span></p> +</div> + <p class="rgh">[<i>Dies.</i></p> + +<p><i>Hester.</i> Farewell, farewell—dead, dead!<br /> +Nay, you shall not take him from me!<br /> +My breast shall be his pillow; and, that he may<br /> +Rest easy, I here cast off your Scarlet Letter.</p> + +<p><i>Governor.</i> Captain, command your men to bear the body.</p> + +<p class="center"><i>A solemn march.</i></p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h2><span class="fsmcap"><i>THE END.</i></span></h2> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<div class="trns"> +<h2><span class="fsmcap"><a name="Transcriber" id="Transcriber">Transcriber's Note:</a></span></h2> + + Archaic language and usage + have been faithfully preserved for this etext. + The only change was from "dramatic transscript" + to "dramatic transcript." +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Scarlet Stigma, by James Edgar Smith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCARLET STIGMA *** + +***** This file should be named 31112-h.htm or 31112-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/1/1/31112/ + +Produced by Sigal Alon and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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