Act I: Scene III. — A Room in Walcot's House. Mary Walcot Seated in an Arm-Chair. Tituba with a Mirror
MARY.Tell me another story, Tituba.A drowsiness is stealing over meWhich is not sleep; for, though I close mine eyes,I am awake, and in another world.Dim faces of the dead and of the absentCome floating up before me,--floating, fading,And disappearing.
TITUBA.Look into this glass.What see you?
MARY.Nothing but a golden vapor.Yes, something more. An island, with the seaBreaking all round it, like a blooming hedge.What land is this?
TITUBA.It is San Salvador,Where Tituba was born. What see you now?
MARY.A man all black and fierce.
TITUBA.That is my father.He was an Obi man, and taught me magic,--Taught me the use of herbs and images.What is he doing?
MARY.Holding in his handA waxen figure. He is melting itSlowly before a fire.
TITUBA.And now what see you?
MARY.A woman lying on a bed of leaves,Wasted and worn away. Ah, she is dying!
TITUBA.That is the way the Obi men destroyThe people they dislike! That is the waySome one is wasting and consuming you.
MARY.You terrify me, Tituba! Oh, save meFrom those who make me pine and waste away!Who are they? Tell me.
TITUBA.That I do not know,But you will see them. They will come to you.
MARY.No, do not let them come! I cannot bear it!I am too weak to bear it! I am dying.
TITUBA.Hark! there is some one coming!
WALCOT.There she lies,Wasted and worn by devilish incantations!O my poor sister!
MATHER.Is she always thus?
WALCOT.Nay, she is sometimes tortured by convulsions.
MATHER.Poor child! How thin she is! How wan and wasted!
HATHORNE.Observe her. She is troubled in her sleep.
MATHER.Some fearful vision haunts her.
HATHORNE.You now seeWith your own eyes, and touch with your own hands,The mysteries of this Witchcraft.
MATHER.One would needThe hands of Briareus and the eyes of ArgusTo see and touch them all.
HATHORNE.You now have enteredThe realm of ghosts and phantoms,--the vast realmOf the unknown and the invisible,Through whose wide-open gates there blows a windFrom the dark valley of the shadow of Death,That freezes us with horror.
MARY (starting).Take her hence!Take her away from me. I see her there!She's coming to torment me!
WALCOT (taking her hand.O my sister!What frightens you? She neither hears nor sees me.She's in a trance.
MARY.Do you not see her there?
TITUBA.My child, who is it?
MARY.Ah, I do not know,I cannot see her face.
TITUBA.How is she clad?
MARY.She wears a crimson bodice. In her handShe holds an image, and is pinching itBetween her fingers. Ah, she tortures me!I see her face now. It is Goodwife Bishop!Why does she torture me? I never harmed her!And now she strikes me with an iron rod!Oh, I am beaten!
MATHER.This is wonderful!.I can see nothing! Is this apparitionVisibly there, and yet we cannot see it?
HATHORNE.It is. The spectre is invisibleUnto our grosser senses, but she sees it.
MARY.Look! look! there is another clad in gray!She holds a spindle in her hand, and threatensTo stab me with it! It is Goodwife Corey!Keep her away! Now she is coming at me!Oh, mercy! mercy!
WALCOT (thrusting with his sword.There is nothing there!
MATHER to HATHORNE.Do you see anything?
HATHORNE.The laws that governThe spiritual world prevent our seeingThings palpable and visible to her.These spectres are to us as if they were not.Mark her; she wakes.
MARY.Who are these gentlemen?
WALCOT.They are our friends. Dear Mary, are you better?
MARY.Weak, very weak.
TITUBA.You wrenched it from the hand of Goodwife CoreyWhen she rushed at you.
HATHORNE.Mark that, reverend sir!
MATHER.It is most marvellous, most inexplicable!
TITUBA. (picking up a bit of gray cloth from the floor).And here, too, is a bit of her gray dress,That the sword cut away.
MATHER.Beholding this,It were indeed by far more credulousTo be incredulous than to believe.None but a Sadducee, who doubts of allPertaining to the spiritual world,Could doubt such manifest and damning proofs!
HATHORNE.Are you convinced?
MATHER to MARY.Dear child, be comforted!Only by prayer and fasting can you driveThese Unclean Spirits from you. An old manGives you his blessing. God be with you, Mary!
Words in this poem
- fading n.
- An Irish dance; also, the burden of a song.
- terrify v. t.
- To make terrible. [L. terrere to frighten + -fy: cf. F. terrifier, L. terrificare. See Terrific, and -fy.]
- argus n.
- A fabulous being of antiquity, said to have had a hundred eyes, who has placed by Juno to guard Io. His eyes were transplanted to the peacock's tail.
- clad v.
- To clothe. Holland.
- bodice n.
- A kind of under waist stiffened with whalebone, etc., worn esp. by women; a corset; stays. [This is properly the plural of body, Oe. bodise a pair of bodies, equiv. to a bodice. Cf. Corset, and see Body.]
- goodwife n.
- The mistress of a house. Robynson (More's Utopia).
- spectre n.
- Something preternaturally visible; an apparition; a ghost; a phantom. [F. spectre, fr. L. spectrum an appearance, image, specter, fr. specere to look. See Spy, and cf. Spectrum.]
- rushed a.
- Abounding or covered with rushes.
- reverend a.
- Worthy of reverence; entitled to respect mingled with fear and affection; venerable. [F. révérend, L. reverendus, fr. revereri. See Revere.]
- beholding a.
- Obliged; beholden.
- incredulous a.
- Not credulous; indisposed to admit or accept that which is related as true, skeptical; unbelieving. [L. incredulus. See In- not, and Credulous.]
- sadducee n.
- One of a sect among the ancient Jews, who denied the resurrection, a future state, and the existence of angels. [L. Sadducaei, p., Gr. Tsaddukim; -- so called from Tsadok, the founder of the sect.]
- damning a.
- That damns; damnable; as, damning evidence of guilt.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Act I: Scene III. — A Room in Walcot's House. Mary Walcot Seated in an Arm-Chair. Tituba with a Mirror is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Project Gutenberg ebook #1365; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Act I: Scene III. — A Room in Walcot's House. Mary Walcot Seated in an Arm-Chair. Tituba with a Mirror, in Christus: A Mystery (1872), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1365, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/longfellow-christus/act-i-scene-iii-a-room-in-walcot-s-house-mary-walcot-seated-.html, id L19236.
Form and metre
Act I: Scene III. — A Room in Walcot's House. Mary Walcot Seated in an Arm-Chair. Tituba with a Mirror is 158 lines in 46 stanzas.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 11 -A-A mary · meA · away · meA
- 44 -AA---- mather · thisA · credulousA · believe · all · world · proofs
- 46 A---A maryA · comforted · drive · man · maryA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| Tell me another story, Tituba. | 10 | ··˘/˘/˘··· |
| A drowsiness is stealing over me | 10 | ·/˘˘·/˘··· |
| Which is not sleep; for, though I close mine eyes, | 10 | ·········· |
| I am awake, and in another world. | 10 | ··˘/··˘/˘· |
| Dim faces of the dead and of the absent | 11 | ·/˘······/˘ |
| Come floating up before me,--floating, fading, | 11 | ·/˘····/˘/˘ |
| And disappearing. | 5 | ··˘/˘ |
| TITUBA. | 3 | ··· |
| Look into this glass. | 5 | ····· |
| What see you? | 3 | ··· |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| Nothing but a golden vapor. | 8 | /˘··/˘/˘ |
| Yes, something more. An island, with the sea | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| Breaking all round it, like a blooming hedge. | 10 | /˘·····/˘· |
| What land is this? | 4 | ···· |
| TITUBA. | 3 | ··· |
| It is San Salvador, | 6 | ···/˘· |
| Where Tituba was born. What see you now? | 10 | ·········· |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| A man all black and fierce. | 6 | ······ |
| TITUBA. | 3 | ··· |
| That is my father. | 5 | ···/˘ |
| He was an Obi man, and taught me magic,-- | 11 | ···/˘····/˘ |
| Taught me the use of herbs and images. | 10 | ·······/˘˘ |
| What is he doing? | 5 | ···/˘ |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| Holding in his hand | 5 | /˘··· |
| A waxen figure. He is melting it | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| Slowly before a fire. | 7 | /˘···/˘ |
| TITUBA. | 3 | ··· |
| And now what see you? | 5 | ····· |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| A woman lying on a bed of leaves, | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| Wasted and worn away. Ah, she is dying! | 11 | /˘··˘/···/˘ |
| TITUBA. | 3 | ··· |
| That is the way the Obi men destroy | 10 | ·····/˘·˘/ |
| The people they dislike! That is the way | 10 | ·/˘·˘/···· |
| Some one is wasting and consuming you. | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘· |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| You terrify me, Tituba! Oh, save me | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| From those who make me pine and waste away! | 10 | ········˘/ |
| Who are they? Tell me. | 5 | ····· |
| TITUBA. | 3 | ··· |
| That I do not know, | 5 | ····· |
| But you will see them. They will come to you. | 10 | ·········· |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| No, do not let them come! I cannot bear it! | 11 | ·······/˘·· |
| I am too weak to bear it! I am dying. | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| TITUBA. | 3 | ··· |
| Hark! there is some one coming! | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| WALCOT. | 2 | /˘ |
| There she lies, | 3 | ··· |
| Wasted and worn by devilish incantations! | 11 | /˘···/˘˘//˘ |
| O my poor sister! | 5 | ···/˘ |
| MATHER. | 2 | /˘ |
| Is she always thus? | 5 | ··/·· |
| WALCOT. | 2 | /˘ |
| Nay, she is sometimes tortured by convulsions. | 11 | ···/·/˘·˘/˘ |
| MATHER. | 2 | /˘ |
| Poor child! How thin she is! How wan and wasted! | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| HATHORNE. | 2 | /˘ |
| Observe her. She is troubled in her sleep. | 10 | ˘/···/˘··· |
| MATHER. | 2 | /˘ |
| Some fearful vision haunts her. | 7 | ·/˘/˘·· |
| HATHORNE. | 2 | /˘ |
| You now see | 3 | ··· |
| With your own eyes, and touch with your own hands, | 10 | ·········· |
| The mysteries of this Witchcraft. | 8 | ·/˘˘··/· |
| MATHER. | 2 | /˘ |
| One would need | 3 | ··· |
| The hands of Briareus and the eyes of Argus | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| To see and touch them all. | 6 | ······ |
| HATHORNE. | 2 | /˘ |
| You now have entered | 5 | ···/˘ |
| The realm of ghosts and phantoms,--the vast realm | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| Of the unknown and the invisible, | 10 | ··˘/··˘/˘˘ |
| Through whose wide-open gates there blows a wind | 10 | ···/˘····· |
| From the dark valley of the shadow of Death, | 11 | ···/˘··/··· |
| That freezes us with horror. | 7 | ·/˘··/˘ |
| MARY (starting). | 4 | /˘/˘ |
| Take her hence! | 3 | ··· |
| Take her away from me. I see her there! | 10 | ··˘/······ |
| She's coming to torment me! | 7 | ·/˘·˘/· |
| WALCOT (taking her hand. | 6 | /˘/˘·· |
| O my sister! | 4 | ··/˘ |
| What frightens you? She neither hears nor sees me. | 11 | ·/˘··/˘···· |
| She's in a trance. | 4 | ···· |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| Do you not see her there? | 6 | ······ |
| TITUBA. | 3 | ··· |
| My child, who is it? | 5 | ····· |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| Ah, I do not know, | 5 | ····· |
| I cannot see her face. | 6 | ·/˘··· |
| TITUBA. | 3 | ··· |
| How is she clad? | 4 | ···· |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| She wears a crimson bodice. In her hand | 10 | ···/˘/˘··· |
| She holds an image, and is pinching it | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Between her fingers. Ah, she tortures me! | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| I see her face now. It is Goodwife Bishop! | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Why does she torture me? I never harmed her! | 10 | ···/˘··/·· |
| And now she strikes me with an iron rod! | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| Oh, I am beaten! | 5 | ···/˘ |
| MATHER. | 2 | /˘ |
| This is wonderful!. | 5 | ··/˘˘ |
| I can see nothing! Is this apparition | 11 | ···/˘···˘/˘ |
| Visibly there, and yet we cannot see it? | 10 | /˘····/˘·· |
| HATHORNE. | 2 | /˘ |
| It is. The spectre is invisible | 10 | ···/˘·˘/˘˘ |
| Unto our grosser senses, but she sees it. | 11 | ··//˘/˘···· |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| Look! look! there is another clad in gray! | 10 | ····˘/˘··· |
| She holds a spindle in her hand, and threatens | 11 | ···/˘····/˘ |
| To stab me with it! It is Goodwife Corey! | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| Keep her away! Now she is coming at me! | 11 | ··˘/···/˘·· |
| Oh, mercy! mercy! | 5 | ·/˘/˘ |
| WALCOT (thrusting with his sword. | 7 | /˘/˘··· |
| There is nothing there! | 5 | ··/˘· |
| MATHER to HATHORNE. | 5 | /˘·/˘ |
| Do you see anything? | 6 | ···/˘· |
| HATHORNE. | 2 | /˘ |
| The laws that govern | 5 | ···/˘ |
| The spiritual world prevent our seeing | 11 | ·/˘˘˘·˘///˘ |
| Things palpable and visible to her. | 10 | ·/˘˘·/˘˘·· |
| These spectres are to us as if they were not. | 11 | ·/˘········ |
| Mark her; she wakes. | 4 | ···· |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| Who are these gentlemen? | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| WALCOT. | 2 | /˘ |
| They are our friends. Dear Mary, are you better? | 11 | ··/··/˘··/˘ |
| MARY. | 2 | /˘ |
| Weak, very weak. | 4 | ·/˘· |
| TITUBA. | 3 | ··· |
| You wrenched it from the hand of Goodwife Corey | 11 | ·······/˘/˘ |
| When she rushed at you. | 5 | ····· |
| HATHORNE. | 2 | /˘ |
| Mark that, reverend sir! | 6 | ··/˘˘· |
| MATHER. | 2 | /˘ |
| It is most marvellous, most inexplicable! | 11 | ········˘/˘ |
| TITUBA. (picking up a bit of gray cloth from the floor). | 14 | ···/˘········· |
| And here, too, is a bit of her gray dress, | 10 | ·········· |
| That the sword cut away. | 6 | ····˘/ |
| MATHER. | 2 | /˘ |
| Beholding this, | 4 | ˘/˘· |
| It were indeed by far more credulous | 10 | ··˘/···/˘˘ |
| To be incredulous than to believe. | 10 | ··˘/˘˘··˘/ |
| None but a Sadducee, who doubts of all | 10 | ···/˘˘···· |
| Pertaining to the spiritual world, | 10 | ˘/˘··/˘˘˘· |
| Could doubt such manifest and damning proofs! | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| HATHORNE. | 2 | /˘ |
| Are you convinced? | 4 | ··˘/ |
| MATHER to MARY. | 5 | /˘·/˘ |
| Dear child, be comforted! | 6 | ···/˘˘ |
| Only by prayer and fasting can you drive | 10 | /˘···/˘··· |
| These Unclean Spirits from you. An old man | 10 | ·˘//˘····· |
| Gives you his blessing. God be with you, Mary! | 11 | ···/˘····/˘ |
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