Abigail: Gah! I’d almost forgot how strong you are, John Proctor!
Proctor, looking at Abigail now, the faintest suggestion of a knowing smile on his face: What’s this mischief here?
Abigail, with a nervous laugh: Oh, she’s only gone silly somehow.
Proctor: The road past my house is a pilgrimage to Salem all morning. The town’s mumbling witchcraft.
Abigail: Oh, posh! Winningly she comes a little closer, with a confidential, wicked air. We were dancin’ in the woods last night, and my uncle leaped in on us. She took fright, is all.
Proctor, his smile widening: Ah, you’re wicked yet, aren’t y’?[A trill of expectant laughter escapes her, and she dares come closer, feverishly looking into his eyes. You’ll be clapped in the stocks before you’re twenty.
He takes a step to go and she springs in his path.
Abigail: Give me a word, John, a soft word. Her concentrated desire destroys his smile.
Proctor: No, no, Abby. That’s done with.
Abigail, tauntingly: You come five mile to see a silly girl fly? I know you better.
Proctor, setting her firmly out of his path: I come to see what mischief your uncle’s brewin’ now. With final emphasis: Put it out of mind, Abby.
Abigail, grasping his hand before he can release her: John — I am waitin’ for you every night.
Proctor: Abby, I never give you hope to wait for me.
Abigail, now beginning to anger — she can’t believe it: I have something better than hope, I think!
Proctor: Abby, you’ll put it out of mind. I’ll not be comin’ for you more.
Abigail: You’re surely sportin’ with me.
Proctor: You know me better.
Abigail: I know how you clutched my back behind your house and sweated like a stallion whenever I come near! Or did I dream that? It’s she who put me out, you cannot pretend it were you. I saw your face when she put me out, and you loved me then and you do now!
Proctor: Abby, that’s a wild thing to say –
Abigail: A wild thing may say wild things. But not so wild, I think. I have seen you since she put me out; I have seen you nights.
Proctor: I have hardly stepped off my farm this sevenmonth.
Abigail: I have a sense for heat, John, and yours has drawn me to my window, and I have seen you looking up, burning in your loneliness. Do you tell me you’ve never looked up at my window?
Proctor: I may have looked up.
Abigail, now softening: You are no wintry man. I know you, John. I know you. She is weeping. I cannot sleep for dreamin’; I cannot dream but I wake and walk about the house as though I’d find you comin’ through some door. She clutches him desperately.
Proctor, gently pressing her from him, with great sympathy, but firmly: Child –
Abigail, with a flash of anger: How dare you call me child!
Proctor: Abby, I may think of you softly from time to time. But I will cut off my hand before I’ll ever reach for you again. Wipe it out of mind. We never touched, Abby.
Abigail: Aye, but we did.
Proctor: Aye, but we did not.
Abigail, with a bitter anger: Oh, I marvel how such a strong man may let such a sickly wife be –
Proctor, angered, at himself as well: You’ll speak nothin’ of Elizabeth!
Abigail: She is blackening my name in the village! She is telling lies about me! She is a cold, sniveling woman, and you bend to her! Let her turn you like a –
Proctor, shaking her: Do you look for a whippin’?
A psalm is heard below.
Abigail, in tears: I look for John Proctor that took me from my sleep and put knowledge in my heart! I never knew what pretense Salem was, I never knew the lying lessons I was taught by all these Christian women and their covenanted men! And now you bid me tear the light out of my eyes? I will not, I cannot! You loved me, John Proctor, and whatever sin it is, you love me yet! He turns abruptly to go out. She rushes to him. John, pity me, pity me!