The relationship between John Proctor and his wife, Elizabeth, has been damaged by his past infidelity with Abigail Williams. Elizabeth is somewhat suspicious of him still, and even John perceives his dishonesty and disloyalty to her as the major flaw in his character. The following conversation occurs during Act 2, when Elizabeth learns that John was alone with Abigail in town:
ELIZABETH: John, you are not open with me. You saw her with a crowd you said. Now you--.
PROCTOR: I'll plead my honesty no more, Elizabeth. [....] 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.
ELIZABETH: I do not judge you. The magistrate sits in your heart that judges you.
Elizabeth claims that John's perception of himself for his disloyalty to her is what keeps him feeling guilty, not her judgment of him for it. Ultimately, in many ways, it is he who suffers more greatly from his disloyalty and dishonesty because he must live with the guilt of having hurt her.
In Act 3, we can also see the way honesty is attached to reputation when it concerns John's relationship with Abigail. The very fact that he is willing to tarnish his reputation by confessing to an adulterous affair with her is enough evidence for Danforth to believe in the truth of what he says.
Further, John is willing to stake his entire testimony about his affair with Abigail (and thus her ulterior motives for her accusations) on his wife's reputation as an honest woman. He says, "In her life, sir, she have never lied. There are them that cannot sing, and them that cannot weep -- my wife cannot lie." Danforth confirms that Elizabeth fired Abigail because she knew the girl was having an affair with John. However, Elizabeth -- out of loyalty to her husband -- lies to Danforth, stating that her husband is not an adulterer. She sacrifices her honesty out of loyalty to the man she loves, and to save him from the way this information would blacken his reputation. "She only thought to save my name!" John cries, before Elizabeth is led away.
At this point, Reverend Hale can remain silent no longer. He says, "Excellency, it is a natural lie to tell; I beg you, stop now before another is condemned! I may shut my conscience to it no more -- private vengeance is working through this testimony! From the beginning this man has struck me true." He defends the Proctors because he believes they are, in the end, truthful and good people. However, Elizabeth's one lie has essentially condemned them both beyond repair for Danforth.
In the end, in Act 4, Hale returns to Salem "to do the Devil's work," he says. "I come to counsel Christians they should belie themselves" and confess to witchcraft in order to save their own lives. Everyone originally assumed that the girls were telling the truth, and so that makes anyone who contradicts them a liar. Now, Hale believes that throwing away one's life is more important than the sin of lying in God's eyes.
Ultimately, John disagrees with him. It is John's final act of honesty that redeems him in his own eyes. After tearing up his written confession, unwilling to condemn his friends and tell Hale's lie, he says, "You have made your magic now, for now I do think I see some shred of goodness in John Proctor." His ultimate choice to be honest, though it costs him his life, allows him to reclaim his sense of honor as a man. Elizabeth gets the final word, suggesting her agreement that this is the most important thing he can have; more important, even, than his life: "He have his goodness now. God forbid I take it from him!"
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