The death-pangs of the Devil Will make him more a Devil than before; And Nebuchadnezzar's furnace will be heated Seven times more hot before its putting out.
HATHORNE.
Advise me, reverend sir.

I look to you For counsel and for guidance in this matter.
What further shall we do?
MATHER.
Remember this, That as a sparrow falls not to the ground Without the will of God, so not a Devil Can come down from the air without his leave.
We must inquire.
HATHORNE.
Dear sir, we have inquired; Sifted the matter thoroughly through and through, And then resifted it.
MATHER.
If God permits These Evil Spirits from the unseen regions To visit us with surprising informations, We must inquire what cause there is for this, But not receive the testimony borne By spectres as conclusive proof of guilt In the accused.
HATHORNE.
Upon such evidence We do not rest our case.

The ways are many In which the guilty do betray themselves.
MATHER.
Be careful.

Carry the knife with such exactness, That on one side no innocent blood be shed By too excessive zeal, and on the other No shelter given to any work of darkness.
HATHORNE.
For one, I do not fear excess of zeal.
What do we gain by parleying with the Devil?
You reason, but you hesitate to act! Ah, reverend sir! believe me, in such cases The only safety is in acting promptly.
'T is not the part of wisdom to delay In things where not to do is still to do A deed more fatal than the deed we shrink from.
You are a man of books and meditation, But I am one who acts.
MATHER.
God give us wisdom In the directing of this thorny business, And guide us, lest New England should become Of an unsavory and sulphurous odor In the opinion of the world abroad! The clock strikes.
I never hear the striking of a clock Without a warning and an admonition That time is on the wing, and we must quicken Our tardy pace in journeying Heavenward, As Israel did in journeying Canaan-ward! They rise.
HATHORNE.
Then let us make all haste; and I will show you In what disguises and what fearful shapes The Unclean Spirits haunt this neighborhood, And you will pardon my excess of zeal.
MATHER.
Ah, poor New England! He who hurricanoed The house of Job is making now on thee One last assault, more deadly and more snarled With unintelligible circumstances Than any thou hast hitherto encountered! [Exeunt.
SCENE III.

-- A room in WALCOT'S House.