found; and let them die together.

_Governor._ Agreed. Come, we're late. [_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--_The Market Place.--Church with Portico, L.--A pillory
on a raised Platform, R.--The GOVERNOR and COUNCIL seated in
portico.--A crowd of TOWNSFOLK._

_Governor._ Now that our other business is dispatched,
Call Hester Prynne.

_Wilson._ Wise Governor, and you,
My brethren: dried as I am with age,
The tendrils of my heart are pliable;
Nor have the tangles of this thicket-world
So twisted all my grain as not to bend
Before another's misery. Wherefore,
I do beseech you, call her not.

_Governor._ Yet must
We try the woman, though we pity her;
And though the scion mercy grafts upon
The stock of justice, the stock is justice still.

_Wilson._ I plead for justice! even-handed justice!
As blind and cold as death--but with a sword,
Sharp on one side to reach the woman's heart
And on the other keener for the man's!
You call the woman; where's her paramour?

_Governor._ We do not know.

_Wilson._ Then grant a stay to Hester
Till he's known.

_Governor._ Too late; nor were it good
To let the woman slap the face of law,
And not resent it quickly. Once again,
Call Hester Prynne. The man she may discover.

_Enter Rev. ARTHUR DIMSDELL through crowd and goes to Portico._

_Crier._ Hester Prynne! Hester Prynne! [_Exit._

_Dimsdell._ Most worthy Governor, I am like one
Who waking hears the village clock toll time,
Yet, having missed the first few strokes, the hour
He cannot tell: and so stand I and hear
Fair Hester called. Is it for trial, or
For punishment?

_Governor._ For both.

_Dimsdell._ I am her pastor and I speak for her;
I would to God that I could plead "Not guilty,"
Or in her stead could offer up myself
To satisfy the law!

_Crowd._ How good he is!

_Dimsdell._ Gentle and wise she is, grave councilors,
And with a modest meekness goes about
The daily duties of her household care;
Oh! I am sure no vulgar palate-bait
Did lure her to this shame, but some enticement
That took the form of higher nature did
Invest the hook. For she is modesty
Itself.

_Governor._ Can modesty, then, fall like this?

_Dimsdell._ The modesty of woman is like the blush
Upon a tender rose; it is her treasure
And her ornament: