This is not cinquefoil, it is deadly
nightshade!
Longfellow
Hillo-ho!
Giles Corey!
--
No answer but the echo from the barn,
And the ill-omened cawing of the crow,
That yonder wings his flight across the fields,
As if he scented carrion in the air.
Enter TITUBA with a basket.
What woman's this, that, like an apparition,
Haunts this deserted homestead in broad day?
Woman, who are you?
TITUBA.
I'm Tituba.
I am John Indian's wife. I am a Witch.
GARDNER.
What are you doing here?
TITUBA.
I am gathering herbs,--
Cinquefoil, and saxifrage, and pennyroyal.
GARDNER (looking at the herbs).
This is not cinquefoil, it is deadly nightshade!
This is not saxifrage, but hellebore!
This is not pennyroyal, it is henbane!
Do you come here to poison these good people?
TITUBA.
I get these for the Doctor in the Village.
Beware of Tituba. I pinch the children;
Make little poppets and stick pins in them,
And then the children cry out they are pricked.
The Black Dog came to me and said, "Serve me! "
I was afraid. He made me hurt the children.
GARDNER.
Poor soul! She's crazed, with all these Devil's doings.
TITUBA.
Will you, sir, sign the book?
No answer but the echo from the barn,
And the ill-omened cawing of the crow,
That yonder wings his flight across the fields,
As if he scented carrion in the air.
Enter TITUBA with a basket.
What woman's this, that, like an apparition,
Haunts this deserted homestead in broad day?
Woman, who are you?
TITUBA.
I'm Tituba.
I am John Indian's wife. I am a Witch.
GARDNER.
What are you doing here?
TITUBA.
I am gathering herbs,--
Cinquefoil, and saxifrage, and pennyroyal.
GARDNER (looking at the herbs).
This is not cinquefoil, it is deadly nightshade!
This is not saxifrage, but hellebore!
This is not pennyroyal, it is henbane!
Do you come here to poison these good people?
TITUBA.
I get these for the Doctor in the Village.
Beware of Tituba. I pinch the children;
Make little poppets and stick pins in them,
And then the children cry out they are pricked.
The Black Dog came to me and said, "Serve me! "
I was afraid. He made me hurt the children.
GARDNER.
Poor soul! She's crazed, with all these Devil's doings.
TITUBA.
Will you, sir, sign the book?