-- 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.