The year is 1645, England is in the grip of bloody Civil War. On the one side stand the Royalist party of King Charles, on the other, Cromwell's Parliamentary party: the Roundheads. The Structure of law and order has collapsed. Local Magistrates indulge their individual whims, justice and injustice are dispensed in more or less equal quantities, without opposition. An atmosphere in which the unscrupulous revel, and the likes of Matthew Hopkins take full advantage of the situation. In a time where the superstitions of country folk are still a powerful factor, Hopkins preys upon them, torturing and killing in a supposed drive to eliminate witchcraft from the country, and doing so with the full blessing of what law there is. However, his influence is confined largely to the Eastern Sector of the country: East Anglia, which is held firmly in Cromwell's grasp, but not so firmly that Roundhead cavalry patrols have everything their way. For there persists an ever present threat of the remnants of the Royalist armies, desperately foraging for food, horses and supplies.
Witchfinder General quotes
He's after our blood!
You're forgetting our powers... he could be a witch.
By the way, you know what they call me now?
What?
Witchfinder General.
God! [takes Harcourt's gun and shoots Hopkins dead]
You took him away from me... you took him from me... you took him from me... you took him from me! YOU TOOK HIM FROM ME!
... May God have mercy on us all.
[Sara cries and screams in anguish]
Stop that, Richard!
What?
What you're thinking.
What am I thinking?
Ungodly thoughts of your Sara, that's my guess.
Thoughts of Sara? Yes. Ungodly? Depends on how you look at it.
She was innocent.
They swim... the mark of Satan is upon them. They must hang.
Lo! 'Tis a gala night/Within the lonesome latter years./An angel throng, bewinged, bedight/In veils, and drowned in tears,/Sit in a theatre to see/A play of hopes and fears,/While the orchestra breathes fitfully/The music of the spheres.
Out-out are the lights-out all!/And over each quivering form/The curtain, a funeral pall,/Comes down with the rush of a storm,/While the angels, all pallid and wan,/Uprising, unveiling, affirm/That the play is the tragedy, 'Man,'/And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.
from Edgar Allan Poe's The Conqueror Worm; included in the U.S. release
from Edgar Allan Poe's The Conqueror Worm; included in the U.S. release
I will find out the truth for you, have no fear.
Men sometimes have strange motives for the things they do.