Act II: Scene III. — A Room in the Governor's House, Enter Governor Endicott and Merry

ENDICOTT.My son, you say?

MERRY.Your Worship's eldest son.

ENDICOTT.Speaking against the laws?

MERRY.Ay, worshipful sir.

ENDICOTT.And in the public market-place?

MERRY.I saw himWith my own eyes, heard him with my own ears.

ENDICOTT.Impossible!

MERRY.He stood there in the crowdWith Nicholas Upsall, when the laws were readTo-day against the Quakers, and I heard himDenounce and vilipend them as unjust,And cruel, wicked, and abominable.

ENDICOTT.Ungrateful son! O God! thou layest upon meA burden heavier than I can bear!Surely the power of Satan must be greatUpon the earth, if even the electAre thus deceived and fall away from grace!

MERRY.Worshipful sir! I meant no harm--

ENDICOTT.'T is well.You've done your duty, though you've done it roughly,And every word you've uttered since you cameHas stabbed me to the heart!

MERRY.I do beseechYour Worship's pardon!

ENDICOTT.He whom I have nurturedAnd brought up in the reverence of the Lord!The child of all my hopes and my affections!He upon whom I leaned as a sure staffFor my old age! It is God's chastisementFor leaning upon any arm but His!

MERRY.Your Worship!--

ENDICOTT.And this comes from holding parleyWith the delusions and deceits of Satan.At once, forever, must they be crushed out,Or all the land will reek with heresy!Pray, have you any children?

MERRY.No, not any.

ENDICOTT.Thank God for that. He has delivered youFrom a great care. Enough; my private griefsToo long have kept me from the public service.

The hour has come; and I am eager nowTo sit in judgment on these Heretics.

It is I.

ENDICOTT (restraining himself).Sit down!

JOHN ENDICOTT (sitting down).I come to intercede for these poor peopleWho are in prison, and await their trial.

ENDICOTT.It is of them I wished to speak with you.I have been angry with you, but 't is passed.For when I hear your footsteps come or go,See in your features your dead mother's face,And in your voice detect some tone of hers,All anger vanishes, and I rememberThe days that are no more, and come no more,When as a child you sat upon my knee,And prattled of your playthings, and the gamesYou played among the pear trees in the orchard!

Oh, let the memory of my noble motherPlead with you to be mild and merciful!For mercy more becomes a MagistrateThan the vindictive wrath which men call justice!

ENDICOTT.The sin of heresy is a deadly sin.'T is like the falling of the snow, whose crystalsThe traveller plays with, thoughtless of his danger,Until he sees the air so full of lightThat it is dark; and blindly staggering onward,Lost and bewildered, he sits down to rest;There falls a pleasant drowsiness upon him,And what he thinks is sleep, alas! is death.

And yet who is there that has never doubted?And doubting and believing, has not said,"Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief"?

ENDICOTT.In the same way we trifle with our doubts,Whose shining shapes are like the stars descending;Until at last, bewildered and dismayed,Blinded by that which seemed to give us light,We sink to sleep, and find that it is death,

Death to the soul through all eternity!Alas that I should see you growing upTo man's estate, and in the admonitionAnd nurture of the law, to find you nowPleading for Heretics!

JOHN ENDICOTT (rising).In the sight of God,Perhaps all men are Heretics. Who daresTo say that he alone has found the truth?We cannot always feel and think and actAs those who go before us. Had you done so,You would not now be here.

ENDICOTT.Have you forgottenThe doom of Heretics, and the fate of thoseWho aid and comfort them? Have you forgottenThat in the market-place this very dayYou trampled on the laws? What right have you,An inexperienced and untravelled youth,To sit in judgment here upon the actsOf older men and wiser than yourself,Thus stirring up sedition in the streets,And making me a byword and a jest?

Words of an inexperienced youth like meWere powerless if the acts of older menWere not before them. 'T is these laws themselvesStir up sedition, not my judgment of them.

ENDICOTT.Take heed, lest I be called, as Brutus was,To be the judge of my own son. Begone!When you are tired of feeding upon husks,Return again to duty and submission,But not till then.

I hear and I obey!ENDICOTT.Oh happy, happy they who have no children!He's gone! I hear the hall door shut behind him.It sends a dismal echo through my heart,As if forever it had closed between us,And I should look upon his face no more!Oh, this will drag me down into my grave,--To that eternal resting-place whereinMan lieth down, and riseth not again!Till the heavens be no more, he shall not wake,Nor be roused from his sleep; for Thou dost changeHis countenance and sendest him away!