_The image of Hester changes. She holds their babe in her arms._

Whose pretty wiles would win hard Moloch's heart; Make him forget his rites, and turn man-nurse.

O, fool! I would renounce my war with Heaven, Eat up my pains in one most bitter mouthful, And sue for pardon from G.o.d's hated Throne, If such an offspring might but call me father!

Where is thy manly pride?

But, now, behold her shamed, bearing the badge

_Hester's image wears Scarlet Letter "A."_

Of thy foul infamy. Tear wide thy shirt, For as thou look'st on her I will impress Upon thy breast a stigma worse than hers.

Aye, fall upon thy knees to worship her The Lady of the Scarlet Letter.

Yet while thou kneel'st thy flesh doth glow and burn

_Scarlet Letter "A" glows on Dimsdell's breast._

With all the deep red heraldry befits A coward l.u.s.t: the latter "A" in gules Upon thy sable heart. There let it gnaw Forever and forever!

_Hester vanishes. Satan fades. No light, save "A" on Dimsdell's breast._

And, now I go, I put this curse upon thee: Be coward still, wear outwardly the garb Of righteousness, shake in thy pious shoes, Cover the stigma on thy breast from eyes Of flesh, and be a hypocrite, till death Relieves the world of thee. We'll meet again.

[_Lightning. Exit Satan. Dimsdell lies in trance.

Night. No sound, no light._

ACT III.

SCENE I.--_The garden of Governor Bellingham. ROGER PRYNNE, called Chillingworth, alone._

_Roger._ The fox that robbed my roost is sly; he keeps The cover warily; and, now the scent Is cold, the curs that yelp in scandal's pack Bay loud on many faults, but cannot trace him.

_Enter DIGGORY._

_Diggory._ Doctor, the Governor will join you presently.

_Roger._ Diggory, I will await him patiently. [_Sits._

_Diggory retires, then returns._

_Diggory._ Doctor, may I beg a word with you?

_Roger._ A thousand if you will.

_Diggory._ I would speak in confidence.

_Roger._ The manner would become thee, Diggory.

But speak, man! Say on.

_Diggory._ I need a philter, Doctor. For the love of mercy--

_Roger._ For the love of good liquor, Diggory, thou shalt have twenty filters. Still decanting?

_Diggory._ O, sir! not that kind of filter. I'm in love!

_Roger._ Ah! thou art in love? In love didst thou say?

_Diggory._ Aye, sir, if it please you.

_Roger._ It pleases me well enough; how doth it please the lady?

_Diggory._ She's not a lady, sir, thank G.o.d! she's but a simple maiden, and it pleaseth her not.

_Roger._ A simple maid refuses you! Ah! Diggory, Diggory, be thankful for the good things G.o.d hath sent thee.

_Diggory._ Truly, sir, I thank Him ev'ry day; but, sir, as I do desire the maiden--I--I--would have her too.

_Roger._ And so, Diggory, thou wouldst have me aid thee in this folly, and give thee a love potion?

_Diggory._ Aye, sir, begging your honor's pardon.

_Roger._ But why dost thou ask me, Diggory? Dost thou take me for an herb-doctor, or a necromancer, or what?

_Diggory._ My master, the Governor, says you are a very learned man, a what-you-call-'em--a scientist; and a scientist can do anything.

_Roger._ Humph!--Diggory, I do not deal in philters; they are out of date--but I know a charm will win her love.

_Diggory._ Tell it me for the love of--

_Roger._ Thou wilt betray it, Diggory.

_Diggory._ Never! Never!

_Roger._ Omit thou but a word of it, and the maiden's lost to thee--but con it well, and all her beauties will be thine.

_Diggory._ Oh! Doctor!

_Roger._ Take of the rendered grease of three black bears--do not fail in that--anoint thy curly locks--

_Diggory._ My hair is straight.

_Roger._ Never mind--but rub; and, as thou dost, repeat these words:

_Lady love, lady love, where e'er thou be, Think of no man but only me; Love me, and wed me, and call me thine own, Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, Joan._

_Diggory._ What is that "Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling"?