masters,
Do heap upon us petty wrongs, and load
Us down with their oppressions. I cannot tell
What rich reward my suffering may bring,
But bide the piercing, like this patient cloth,
In hope the needle carries golden thread.

_Enter a_ Maid-Servant.

What is it?

_Servant._ Madam, a gentleman would speak with you.

_Hester._ Bid him enter. [_Exit Servant._
Methought I heard my husband's dreaded voice
Speak to me on the pillory. What
If he lives, or hath arisen from the dead
To reckon with me now? Well, let him come;
For this strong heart outcast from sympathy
Hath turned back on itself in double strength;
And all the puny woman of my mind,
Burned in the furnace of my sex's scorn,
Plunged in the icy vat of love's neglect,
Hath tempered hard. I fear him not.

_Enter ROGER PRYNNE, shaved, and dressed as a doctor of medicine._

Roger himself!

_Roger._ Thou didst provide snug quarters, Hester, against my
coming. Aye, and hast furnished them better than I bade thee.

_Hester._ The cost was small; my needle and my energy--

_Roger._ Have done the work; yea, and supplied the cradle also. Ah!
'tis a brave piece of work; very beautiful and delicate; the lusty
offspring of lustful parents. Somewhat costly, I should think, and
asked some pains. Methinks, thou hadst some help with that; or was
it thy needle or thy energy which wrought this dainty bit?

_Hester._ Touch not the child; 'tis mine, thou hast no part in it.

_Roger._ Too true. But calm thyself. I have not harmed the brat, nor
did I touch it. [_Looking around._] I like thy taste, Hester. A
handsome house to hold a handsome woman.

_Hester._ The house is thine; let me and my babe depart.

_Roger._ Nay, keep the house, 'twill shelter you; I do not need it.

_Hester._ I will not have it.

_Roger._ Will not, Madam Hester, is a strong word to use to your
wedded lord and master. I say you shall; yea, and, furthermore, here
is provision for the child and thee.

[_Throwing purse upon the table._]

_Hester._ Take up thy purse. I who have done thee wrong will not
henceforth eat thy bread.

_Roger._ Wrong, Hester. Done me wrong? Wronged me? Nay, Hester,
wronged thyself; wronged thine innocent babe; wronged the world;
wronged whom thou wilt, but not wronged me! To wake me from a doting
dream--that was not wrong! A dream of woman's purity and innocence;
a foolish dream of married happiness bet