Proctor

1. Can you speak one minute without we land in Hell again? I am sick of Hell!
I may speak my heart, I think!

2. No more! I should have roared you down when first you told me your suspicion. But I wilted, and, like a Christian, I confessed. Confessed! Some dream I had must have mistaken you for God that day. But you're not, you're not, and let you remember it! Let you look sometimes for the goodness in me, and judge me not.