_Parris._ That is sufficient. She has confessed.

_Hathorne._ Yes, methinks the child hath confessed whether she
would or no. Goodwife Corey, Phoebe hath now plainly said that she
did stick these pins in this image for you. What have you to say?

_Martha_ (_courtesying_). Your worship, the matter is beyond my poor
speech.

[Hathorne _tosses the doll on the table,_ Phoebe _watching
anxiously._

_Hathorne._ Go to your place, child.

_Phoebe._ I want my doll.

_Parris._ Go to thy place as his worship bids thee, and think on
the precepts in thy catechism. [Phoebe _returns sobbing._

_Afflicted Girls._ Oh, Goody Corey turns her eyes upon us! Bid her
turn her eyes away!

_Ann._ Oh, I see a black cat sitting on Goody Corey's shoulder, and
his eyes are like coals. Now, now, he looks at me when Goody Corey
does! Look away! look away! Oh, I am blind! I am blind! Sparks are
coming into my eyes from Goody Corey's. Make her turn her eyes away,
your worships; make her turn her eyes away!

_Hathorne._ Goody Corey, fix your eyes upon the floor, and look not