SCENE II.. —­ The prison.  GILES COREY at a table on which are some papers.

COREY. 
Now I have done with earth and all its cares;
I give my worldly goods to my dear children;
My body I bequeath to my tormentors,
And my immortal soul to Him who made it. 
O God! who in thy wisdom dost afflict me
With an affliction greater than most men
Have ever yet endured or shall endure,
Suffer me not in this last bitter hour
For any pains of death to fall from Thee!

MARTHA is heard singing. 
     Arise, O righteous Lord! 
       And disappoint my foes;
     They are but thine avenging sword,
       Whose wounds are swift to close.

COREY. 
Hark, hark! it is her voice!  She is not dead! 
She lives!  I am not utterly forsaken!

MARTHA, singing. 
     By thine abounding grace,
       And mercies multiplied,
     I shall awake, and see thy face;
       I shall be satisfied.

COREY hides his face in his hands.  Enter the JAILER, followed by
RICHARD GARDNER.

JAILER. 
Here’s a seafaring man, one Richard Gardner,
A friend of yours, who asks to speak with you.

COREY rises.  They embrace.

COREY. 
I’m glad to see you, ay, right glad to see you.

GARDNER. 
And I am most sorely grieved to see you thus.

COREY. 
Of all the friends I had in happier days,
You are the first, ay, and the only one,
That comes to seek me out in my disgrace! 
And you but come in time to say farewell,
They’ve dug my grave already in the field. 
I thank you.  There is something in your presence,
I know not what it is, that gives me strength. 
Perhaps it is the bearing of a man
Familiar with all dangers of the deep,
Familiar with the cries of drowning men,
With fire, and wreck, and foundering ships at sea!

GARDNER. 
Ah, I have never known a wreck like yours! 
Would I could save you!

COREY. 
                    Do not speak of that. 
It is too late.  I am resolved to die.

GARDNER. 
Why would you die who have so much to live for?—­
Your daughters, and—­

COREY. 
            You cannot say the word. 
My daughters have gone from me.  They are married;
They have their homes, their thoughts, apart from me;
I will not say their hearts,—­that were too cruel. 
What would you have me do?

GARDNER. 
                    Confess and live. 
COREY. 
That’s what they said who came here yesterday
To lay a heavy weight upon my conscience
By telling me that I was driven forth
As an unworthy member of their church.

GARDNER. 
It is an awful death.

COREY. 
                     ’T is but to drown,
And have the weight of all the seas upon you.

GARDNER. 
Say something; say enough to fend off death
Till this tornado of fanaticism
Blows itself out.  Let me come in between you
And your severer self, with my plain sense;
Do not be obstinate.