Trial of Bridget Bishop

Salem Village, Massachusetts May 11, 1692 Of evil works in league with the devil, I am accused. Spit upon, bolts tethered in chains, I have been abused. People mardle I cast spells of palsie to make them twitch. Blinded by fear, they labeled me a sorceress, a witch. Superstition is to blame for blinding their eyes. I claim innocence when affronted by boisterous cries. "Burn the witch!" they shout in frenzied outrage. Until tomorrow's trial, I am to be kept inside a cage. These Puritans are wrong to think they do God's will. Christians should not have such an urgency to kill. There is no talk of banishment. That would be a blessing, but the crimes they say I committed, I am not confessing. Other women in the village are facing this tragic fate. Pity that our lives will be in the hands of the magistrate. Sorrow fills me knowing I will meet death on the gallows and tossed in a grave, not worthy of ground that is hallow. I am already convicted in the minds of those who leer. My pleas of having done nothing wrong, they do not hear. All of a dudder, I hear them say, "She is a witch possessed!" "Forsooth," I will cry in court, "to witchery I have not confessed!" Somewhere from outside, I faintly hear a church bell clanging. Then, a hoard of voices screaming, "It is time for hanging!" I write these words before the mob comes to take me away. God, please keep me in your heart. I will not live another day. Bridget Bishop, Falsely accused of being a witch