Disclaimer: If you haven't read "The Crucible" I suggest you do. It's brilliant. Arthur Miller owns it, not me or my friends. A big thanks to my dear friends Greshnaw and Nicorette for adding the html tags to all of the chapters *MWAH. This is the last act so thank you all for reading. ^_^
ACT 4
Herrick: C'mon girls...whoa [trips over rags]
Sarah Good: It's the devil, it's the devil! I love the devil. He's my friend. His Majesty loves me. We have a platonic relationship - not just physical.
Herrick: No it's just your local drunken hick...you both seem a bit hysterical.
Tituba: We're waiting for the devil. He's actually really nice when you get to know him. He's just misunderstood.
A vibrating cow is thrown on stage, mooing evilly.
Sarah Good: HIS MAJESTY!
Tituba: See I told you. He has a very sensitive side, and a really good sense of humour. Lots of girls are after him. He's such a snag.
Herrick: ...That's not Satan...that's a cow.
Sarah Good: What's this then [shows him ear tag that says Satan aka Lucifer aka the devil aka his majesty aka old boy]
Herrick: Oh sorry my mistake.
Sarah Good: Take me devil. Take me....home...
Tituba: Yes, we love you devil!
Herrick: The important people are coming, go away.
Sarah and Tituba leave with the cow. Danforth enters with Hathorne and Cheever.
Danforth: Are you drunk?
Herrick: Yes a little.
Danforth: Idiot. Get Parris.
Herrick leaves
Hathorne: Hale's not listening to us anymore.
Danforth: Prat.
Hathorne: Parris is getting a bit paranoid.
Danforth: Really?
Cheever: It's the cows, it's always the cows.
Parris enters
Parris: Hi
Danforth: What's Hale doing then?
Parris: Trying to make people confess.
Hathorne: Oh really? [Disappointed] I wanted to see some hanging.
Parris: Erm…I think Abigail has run away.
Danforth:...Crap. That doesn't look too good does it…oh well.
Parris: I think people are trying to kill me. I suspect the cows. It's always the cows. Always.
Danforth: ...I see.
Parris: I'm starting to feel a bit guilty now, coz people are trying to
kill me for being a greedy prat.
Hale enters.
Hale: Yes, I'm also feeling a torturous guilt. Our religion has failed us! We have turned our society into a theocratic one! But we cannot look to the past now. We must free those who lie prostrate in their cells, having made no bargain with the devil. Proctor, I feel, is the key to it all. He has a weighty name. But I fear something hinders him! As Nathaniel Hawthorne will say in two hundred years from now, "What other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart! What jailer so inexorable as one's self". It is the magistrate in his heart that will judge him, and no other has the tongue for it. But must it end in blood? Life is a blessed gift. Will Proctor throw this gift away, carelessly unwrapped, yet lustily nibbled.
Danforth: Well, that started off well, but God only knows where you ended up. Good one. Let's just lift the standard of the play near the end. Clever move mate.
Hale: Sorry, I just was just burning to use some big words. I shall now bring Elizabeth out to see if she can make him Proctor confess.
Everyone leaves to let Elizabeth and Proctor to have 'alone' time.
Elizabeth: Hello John.
Proctor: I'm scared. I'm going to confess. No I won't, that would be wrong. But I don't want to die. But I should do the right thing. No, no, I want to live. Life is nice.
Elizabeth: Okay John.
Proctor: What do you think?
Elizabeth: I don't. Do what ever you think. John.
Proctor: [whining] Ellizzaabeeth. Fine, ignore me. I'LL CONFESS!!
Danforth: Oh, how exciting. Sign here and here, thanks, you've done the right thing. Look Goody Nurse, look, now do you see you are being evil and stupid.
Rebecca: Oh dear. John, why?
Danforth: Now let me show the village.
Proctor: No no no you mustn't do that.
Danforth: Why on earth not.
Proctor: BECAUSE IT IS MY NAME! IT IS VERY IMPORTANT TO ME! IT IS A VERY STRONG SOUNDING NAME! IT SOUNDS RATHER AUTHORATIVE AND PROFESSIONAL AND IT RHYMES WITH DOCTOR! IT WAS MY FATHERS NAME, AND HIS FATHER BEFORE HIS, AND HIS FATHER BEFORE HIS so it's not really my name…
Danforth: Right then. HANG HIM! HANG HIM!
Hale: Crap. Are you just gonna stand there?
Elizabeth: Hey it's his life…John
A torch light shines on her face, drum roll and cymbal crash, then a moo.
THE METAPHORICAL CURTAIN METAPHORICALLY FALLS