For the last week, accusations of witchcraft have been levied against
Elizabeth: What keeps you so late? It’s almost dark.
Proctor: I were planting far out to the forest edge.
Elizabeth: Oh, you’re done then.
Proctor: Aye, the farm is seeded. The boys asleep?
[... … …]
Elizabeth: I do not judge you. The magistrate sits in your heart that judges you. I never thought you but a good man, John, only somewhat bewildered.
Proctor: Oh, Elizabeth, your justice would freeze beer.
Arthur Miller, The Crucible. Dramatists Play Service, New York, NY, 1982, pp.26-29.
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