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A LOOKING-GLASS FOR LONDON AND ENGLAND, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: So pace ye on, triumphant warriors
Last Line: And let all faithful subjects say, amen!
Variant Title(s): Jonah's Appeal To London And England


DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

RASNI, King of Nineveh.
KING OF CILICIA.
KING OF CRETE.
KING OF PAPHLAGONIA.
THRASYBULUS, a young gentleman, reduced to poverty.
ALCON, a poor man.
RADAGON, } his sons.
CLESIPHON, } his sons.
Usurer.
Judge.
Lawyer.
Smith.
ADAM, his man.
Clown.
First Ruffian.
Second Ruffian.
Governor of Joppa.
Master of a ship.
First Searcher.
Second Searcher.
A Man in devil's attire. Magi, Merchants, Sailors, Lords, Attendants, &c.

REMILIA, sister to RASNI.
ALVIDA, wife to the KING OF PAPHLAGONIA.
SAMIA, wife to ALCON.
Smith's Wife.
Ladies.

An Angel.
An Evil Angel.
OSEAS.
JONAS.

Enter RASNI, with the KINGS OF CILICIA, CRETE, and PAPHLAGONIA,
from the overthrow of Jeroboam, King of Jerusalem.

Rasni. So pace ye on, "triumphant warriors;
Make Venus' leman, arm'd in all his pomp,
Bash at the brightness of your hardy looks,
For you the viceroys are, the cavaliers,
That wait on Rasni's royal mightiness:
Boast, petty kings, and glory in your fates,
That stars have made your fortunes climb so high,
To give attend on Rasni's excellence.
Am I not he that rules great Nineveh,
Rounded with Lycus' silver-flowing streams?
Whose city large diametri contains,
Even three days' journey's length from wall to wall;
Two hundred gates carv'd out of burnish'd brass,
As glorious as the portal of the sun;
And for to deck heaven's battlements with pride,
Six hundred towers that topless touch the clouds.
This city is the footstool of your king;
A hundred lords do honour at my feet;
My sceptre straineth both the parallels:
And now t' enlarge the highness of my power,
I have made Judæa's monarch flee the field,
And beat proud Jeroboam from his holds,
Winning from Cades to Samaria.
Great Jewry's God, that foil'd stout Benhadad,
Could not rebate the strength that Rasni brought;
For be he God in heaven, yet, viceroys, know,
Rasni is god on earth, and none but he
K. of Cil. If lovely shape, feature by nature's skill
Passing in beauty fair Endymion's,
That Luna wrapt within her snowy breasts,
Or that sweet boy that wrought bright Venus bane,
Transform'd unto a purple hyacinth;
If beauty nonpareil in excellence,
May make a king match with the gods in gree,
Rasni is god on earth, and none but he.
K. of Crete. If martial looks, wrapt in a cloud of wars,
More fierce than Mavors lighteneth from his eyes,
Sparkling revenge and dire disparagement;
If doughty deeds more haught than any done,
Seal'd with the smile of fortune and of fate,
Matchless to manage lance and curtle-axe;
If such high actions, grac'd with victories,
May make a king match with the gods in gree,
Rasni is god on earth, and none but he.
K. of Paph. If Pallas' wealth———
Rasni. Viceroys, enough; peace, Paphlagon, no more.
See where's my sister, fair Remilia,
Fairer than was the virgin Danäe,
That waits on Venus with a golden show;
She that hath stoln the wealth of Rasni's looks,
And tied his thoughts within her lovely locks,
She that is lov'd, and love unto your king,
See where she comes to gratulate my fame.

Enter RADAGON, with REMILIA, ALVIDA, and Ladies, bringing a globe
seated in a ship.

Remil. Victorious monarch, second unto Jove,
Mars upon earth, and Neptune on the seas,
Whose frown strows all the ocean with a calm,
Whose smile draws Flora to display her pride,
Whose eye holds wanton Venus at a gaze,
Rasni, the regent of great Nineveh;
For thou hast foil'd proud Jeroboam's force,
And, like the mustering breath of Æolus
That overturns the pines of Lebanon,
Hast scatter'd Jewry and her upstart grooms,
Winning from Cades to Samaria;—
Remilia greets thee with a kind salute,
And, for a present to thy mightiness,
Gives thee a globe folded within a ship,
As king on earth and lord of all the seas,
With such a welcome unto Nineveh
As may thy sister's humble love afford.
Rasni. Sister! the title fits not thy degree;
A higher state of honour shall be thine.
The lovely trull that Mercury entrapp'd
Within the curious pleasure of his tongue,
And she that bash'd the sun-god with her eyes,
Fair Semele, the choice of Venus' maids,
Were not so beauteous as Remilia.
Then, sweeting, sister shall not serve the turn,
But Rasni's wife, his leman, and his love:
Thou shalt, like Juno, wed thyself to Jove,
And fold me in the richess of thy fair;
Remilia shall be Rasni's paramour.
For why, if I be Mars for warlike deeds,
And thou bright Venus for thy clear aspéct,
Why should not from our loins issue a son
That might be lord of royal sovereignty,
Of twenty worlds, if twenty worlds might be?
What say'st, Remilia, art thou Rasni's wife?
Remil. My heart doth swell with favour of thy thoughts;
The love of Rasni maketh me as proud
As Juno when she wore heaven's diadem.
Thy sister born was for thy wife, my love:
Had I the riches nature locketh up
To deck her darling beauty when she smiles,
Rasni should prank him in the pride of all.
Rasni. Remilia's love is far more either priz'd
Than Jeroboam's or the world's subdue.
Lordings, I'll have my wedding sumptuous,
Made glorious with the treasures of the world:
I'll fetch from Albia shelves of margarites,
And strip the Indies of their diamonds,
And Tyre shall yield me tribute of her gold,
To make Remilia's wedding glorious.
I'll send for all the damosel queens that live
Within the reach of Rasni's government,
To wait as handmaids on Remilia,
That her attendant train may pass the troop
That gloried Venus at her wedding-day.
K. of Orete. O my lord, not sister to thy love!
'Tis incest, and too foul a fact for kings;
Nature allows no limits to such lust.
Radag. Presumptuous viceroy, dar'st thou check thy lord,
Or twit him with the laws that nature loves?
Is not great Rasni above nature's reach,
God upon earth, and all his will is law?
K. of Crete. O, flatter not, for hateful is his choice,
And sister's love will blemish all his worth.
Radag. Doth not the brightness of his majesty
Shadow his deeds from being counted faults?
Rasni. Well hast thou answer'd with him, Radagon;
I like thee for thy learnèd sophistry.—
But thou of Crete, that countercheck'st thy king,
Pack hence in exile, give Radagon thy crown.—
Be thou vicegerent of his royalty;
And fail me not in what my thoughts may please,
For from a beggar have I brought thee up,
And grac'd thee with the honour of a crown.—
Ye quondam king, what, feed ye on delays?
K. of Crete. Better no king than viceroy under him,
That hath no virtue to maintain his crown.
[Exit.
Rasni. Remilia, what fair dames be those that wait
Attendant on thy matchless royalty?
Remil. 'Tis Alvida, the fair wife to the King Of Paphlagonia.
Rasni. Trust me, she is fair.—Thou'st, Paphlagon, a jewel,
To fold thee in so bright a sweeting's arms.
Radag. Like you her, my lord?
Rasni. What if I do, Radagon?
Radag. Why, then she is yours, my lord; for marriage
Makes no exception, where Rasni doth command.
K. of Paph. Ill dost thou counsel him to fancy wives.
Radag. Wife or not wife, whatso he likes is his.
Rasni. Well answer'd, Radagon; thou art for me:
Feed thou mine humour, and be still a king.—
Lords, go in triumph of my happy loves,
And, for to feast us after all our broils,
Frolic and revel it in Nineveh.
Whate'er befitteth your conceited thoughts,
Or good or ill, love or not love, my boys,
In love, or what may satisfy your lust,
Act it, my lords, for no man dare say no.
Divisum imperium cum Jove nunc teneo.
[Exeunt.

Enter, brought in by an Angel, OSEAS the Prophet, and let down over the
stage in a throne.

Angel. Amaze not, man of God, if in the spirit
Thou'rt brought from Jewry unto Nineveh;
So was Elias wrapt within a storm,
And set upon Mount Carmel by the Lord:
For thou hast preach'd long to the stubborn Jews,
Whose flinty hearts have felt no sweet remorse,
But lightly valuing all the threats of God,
Have still perséver'd in their wickedness.
Lo, I have brought thee unto Nineveh,
The rich and royal city of the world,
Pamper'd in wealth, and overgrown with pride,
As Sodom and Gomorrah full of sin.
The Lord looks down and cannot see one good,
Not one that covets to obey his will;
But wicked all from cradle to the crutch.
Note, then, Oseas, all their grievous sins,
And see the wrath of God that pays revenge;
And when the ripeness of their sin is full,
And thou hast written all their wicked through,
I'll carry thee to Jewry back again,
And seat thee in the great Jerusalem.
There shalt thou publish in her open streets,
That God sends down his hateful wrath for sin
On such as never heard his prophets speak:
Much more will he inflict a world of plagues
On such as hear the sweetness of his voice,
And yet obey not what his prophets speak.
Sit thee, Oseas, pondering in the spirit
The mightiness of these fond people's sins.
Oseas. The will of the Lord be done!
[Exit Angel.

Enter Clown and a crew of Ruffians, to go to drink.

First Ruf. Come on, smith, thou shalt be one of the crew, because thou
knowest where the best ale in the town is.
Adam. Come on, in faith, my colts: I have left my master striking of a
heat, and stole away, because I would keep you company.
Clown. Why, what, shall we have this paltry smith with us?
Adam. Paltry smith! why, you incarnative knave, what are you that you
speak petty treason against the smith's trade?
Clown. Why, slave, I am a gentleman of Nineveh.
Adam. A gentleman! good sir, I remember you well, and all your
progenitors: your father bare office in our town; an honest man he was, and in
great discredit in the parish, for they bestowed two squires' livings on him,
the one was on working-days, and then he kept the town stage, and on holidays
they made him the sexton's man, for he whipped dogs out of the church. Alas,
sir, your father,—why, sir, methinks I see the gentleman still: a proper
youth he was, faith, aged some forty and ten; his beard rat's colour, half
black, half white; his nose was in the highest degree of noses, it was nose
autem glorificam, so set with rubies that after his death it should have
been nailed up in Copper-smiths-hall for a monument. Well, sir, I was beholding
to your good father, for he was the first man that ever instructed me in the
mystery of a pot of ale.
Second Ruf. Well said, smith; that crossed him over the thumbs.
Clown. Villain, were it not that we go to be merry, my rapier should
presently quit thy opprobrious terms.
Adam. O Peter, Peter, put up thy sword, I prithee heartily, into thy
scabbard; hold in your rapier; for though I have not a long reacher, I have a
short hitter.—Nay, then, gentlemen, stay me, for my choler begins to rise
against him; for mark the words, "a paltry smith"! O horrible sentence! thou
hast in these words, I will stand to it, libelled against all the sound horses,
whole horses, sore horses, coursers, curtals, jades, cuts, hackneys, and mares:
whereupon, my friend, in their defence, I give thee this curse,—thou shalt
not be worth a horse of thine own this seven year.
Clown. I prithee, smith, is your occupation so excellent?
Adam. "A paltry smith"! why, I'll stand to it, a smith is lord of the
four elements; for our iron is made of the earth, our bellows blow out air, our
floor holds fire, and our forge water. Nay, sir, we read in the Chronicles that
there was a god of our occupation.
Clown. Ay, but he was a cuckold.
Adam. That was the reason, sir, he called your father cousin. "Paltry
smith"! why, in this one word thou hast defaced their worshipful occupation.
Clown. As how?
Adam. Marry, sir, I will stand to it, that a smith in his kind is a
physician, a surgeon, and a barber. For let a horse take a cold, or be troubled
with the bots, and we straight give him a potion or a purgation, in such
physical manner that he mends straight: if he have outward diseases, as the
spavin, splent, ringbone, wind-gall, or fashion, or, sir, a galled back, we let
him blood and clap a plaster to him, with a pestilence, that mends him with a
very vengeance: now, if his mane grow out of order, and he have any rebellious
hairs, we straight to our shears and trim him with what cut it please us, pick
his ears, and make him neat. Marry, indeed, sir, we are slovens for one thing;
we never use any musk-balls to wash him with, and the reason is, sir, because he
can woo without kissing.
Clown. Well, sirrah, leave off these praises of a smith, and bring us
to the best ale in the town.
Adam. Now, sir, I have a feat above all the smiths in Nineveh; for,
sir, I am a philosopher that can dispute of the nature of ale; for mark you,
sir, a pot of ale consists of four parts,—imprimis the ale, the toast, the
ginger, and the nutmeg.
Clown. Excellent!
Adam. The ale is a restorative, bread is a binder, mark you, sir, two
excellent points in physic: the ginger, O, ware of that! the philosophers have
written of the nature of ginger, 'tis expulsitive in two degrees; you shall hear
the sentence of Galen;

"It will make a man belch, cough, and fart,
And is a great comfort to the heart,"

a proper posy, I promise you: but now to the noble virtue of the nutmeg; it is,
saith one ballad, (I think an English Roman was the author,) an underlayer to
the brains, for when the ale gives a buffet to the head, O the nutmeg! that
keeps him for a while in temper. Thus you see the description of the virtue of a
pot of ale. Now, sir, to put my physical precepts in practice, follow me: but
afore I step any further—
Clown. What's the matter now?
Adam. Why, seeing I have provided the ale, who is the purveyor for the
wenches? for, masters, take this of me, a cup of ale without a wench, why, alas,
'tis like an egg without salt, or a red-herring without mustard!

Clown. Lead us to the ale: we'll have wenches enough, I warrant thee.
[Exeunt.
Oseas. Iniquity seeks out companions still,
And mortal men are armèd to do ill.
London, look on, this matter nips thee near:
Leave off thy riot, pride, and sumptuous cheer;
Spend less at board, and spare not at the door,
But aid the infant, and relieve the poor;
Else seeking mercy, being merciless,
Thou be adjudg'd to endless heaviness.

Enter the Usurer, THRASYBULUS, and ALCON.

Usurer. Come on, I am every day troubled with those needy companions:
what news with you? what wind brings you hither?
Thras. Sir, I hope, how far soever you make it off, you remember, too
well for me, that this is the day wherein I should pay you money that I took up
of you alate in a commodity.
Alc. And, sir, sir-reverence of your manhood and gentry, I have brought
home such money as you lent me.
Usurer. You, young gentleman, is my money ready?
Thras. Truly, sir, this time was so short, the commodity so bad, and
the promise of friends so broken, that I could not provide it against the day,
wherefore I am come to entreat you to stand my friend, and to favour me with a
longer time, and I will make you sufficient consideration.
Usurer. Is the wind in that door? If thou hast my money, so it is: I
will not defer a day, an hour, a minute, but take the forfeit of the bond.
Thras. I pray you, sir, consider that my loss was great by the
commodity I took up: you know, sir, I borrowed of you forty pounds, whereof I
had ten pounds in money, and thirty pounds in lute-strings, which when I came to
sell again, I could get but five pounds for them, so had I, sir, but fifteen
pounds for my forty. In consideration of this ill bargain, I pray you, sir, give
me a month longer.
Usurer. I answered thee afore, not a minute: what have I to do how thy
bargain proved? I have thy hand set to my book that thou receivedst forty pounds
of me in money.
Thras. Ay, sir, it was your device that, to colour the statute, but
your conscience knows what I had.
Alc. Friend, thou speakest Hebrew to him when thou talkest to him of
conscience; for he hath as much conscience about the forfeit of an obligation as
my blind mare, God bless her, hath over a manger of oats.
Thras. Then there is no favour, sir?
Usurer. Come to-morrow to me, and see how I will use thee.
Thras. No, covetous caterpillar, know that I have made extreme shift
rather than I would fall into the hands of such a ravening panther: and
therefore here is thy money, and deliver me the recognisance of my lands.
Usurer [aside]. What a spite is this,—hath sped of his crowns!
if he had missed but one half-hour, what a goodly farm had I gotten for forty
pounds! well, 'tis my cursed fortune. O, have I no shift to make him forfeit his
recognisance?
Thras. Come, sir, will you despatch, and tell your money?
[It strikes four o'clock.
Usurer [aside]. Stay, what is this o'clock? four:—let me
see,—" to be paid between the hours of three and four in the afternoon:"
this goes right for me.—You, sir, hear you not the clock, and have you not
a counterpane of your obligation? The hour is past, it was to be paid between
three and four; and now the clock hath strucken four: I will receive none, I'll
stand to the forfeit of the recognisance.
Thras. Why, sir, I hope you do but jest; why, 'tis but four, and will
you for a minute take forfeit of my bond? If it were so, sir, I was here before
four.
Usurer. Why didst thou not tender thy money, then? if I offer thee
injury, take the law of me, complain to the judge: I will receive no money.
Alc. Well, sir, I hope you will stand my good master for my cow. I
borrowed thirty shillings on her, and for that I have paid you eighteenpence a
week, and for her meat you have had her milk, and I tell you, sir, she gives a
pretty sup: now, sir, here is your money.
Usurer. Hang, beggarly knave! comest to me for a cow? did I not bind
her bought and sold for a penny, and was not thy day to have paid yesterday?
Thou gettest no cow at my hand.
Alc. No cow, sir! alas, that word "no cow" goes as cold to my heart as
a draught of small drink in a frosty morning! "no cow," sir! why, alas, alas,
Master Usurer, what shall become of me, my wife, and my poor child?
Usurer. Thou gettest no cow of me, knave: I cannot stand prating with
you, I must be gone.
Alc. Nay, but hear you, Master Usurer: "no cow"! why, sir, here's your
thirty shillings: I have paid you eighteen-pence a week, and therefore there is
reason I should have my cow.
Usurer. What pratest thou? have I not answered thee, thy day is broken?
Alc. Why, sir, alas, my cow is a commonwealth to me! for first, sir,
she allows me, my wife, and son, for to banquet ourselves withal, butter,
cheese, whey, curds, cream, sod-milk, raw-milk, sour-milk, sweet-milk, and
butter-milk: besides, sir, she saved me every year a penny in almanacs, for she
was as good to me as a prognostication; if she had but set up her tail, and have
galloped about the mead, my little boy was able to say, "O, father, there will
be a storm"; her very tail was a calendar to me: and now to lose my cow! alas,
Master Usurer, take pity upon me!
Usurer. I have other matters to talk on: farewell, fellows.
Thras. Why, but, thou covetous churl, wilt thou not receive thy money,
and deliver me my recognisance?
Usurer. I'll deliver thee none; if I have wronged thee, seek thy mends
at the law.
[Exit.
Thras. And so I will, insatiable peasant.
Alc. And, sir, rather than I will put up this word "no cow," I will lay
my wife's best gown to pawn. I tell you, sir, when the slave uttered this word
"no cow," it struck to my heart, for my wife shall never have one so fit for her
turn again; for, indeed, sir, she is a woman that hath her twiddling-strings
broke.
Thras. What meanest thou by that, fellow?
Alc. Marry, sir, sir-reverence of your manhood, she breaks wind behind:
and indeed, sir, when she sat milking of her cow[s] and let a fart, my other
cows would start at the noise, and kick down the milk, and away; but this cow,
sir, the gentlest cow! my wife might blow whilst she burst: and having such good
conditions, shall the Usurer come upon me with "no cow"? Nay, sir, before I
pocket up this word "no cow," my wife's gown goes to the lawyer: why, alas, sir,
'tis as ill a word to me as "no crown" to a king!
Thras. Well, fellow, go with me, and I'll help thee to a lawyer.
Alc. Marry, and I will, sir. No cow! well, the world goes hard.
[Exeunt.
Oseas. Where hateful usury
Is counted husbandry;
Where merciless men rob the poor,
And the needy are thrust out of door;
Where gain is held for conscience,
And men's pleasures are all on pence;
Where young gentlemen forfeit their lands,
Through riot, into the usurer's hands;
Where poverty is despis'd, and pity banish'd,
And mercy indeed utterly vanish'd;
Where men esteem more of money than of God;
Let that land look to feel his wrathful rod:
For there is no sin more odious in his sight
Than where usury defrauds the poor of his right.
London, take heed, these sins abound in thee;
The poor complain, the widows wrongèd be;
The gentlemen by subtlety are spoil'd;
The ploughmen lose the crop for which they toil'd:
Sin reigns in thee, O London, every hour;
Repent, and tempt not thus the heavenly power.

Enter REMILIA, with ALVIDA and a train of Ladies, in all royalty.

Remil. Fair queen, yet handmaid unto Rasni's love,
Tell me, is not my state as glorious
As Juno's pomp, when tir'd with heaven's despoil,
Clad in her vestments spotted all with stars,
She cross'd the silver path unto her Jove?
Is not Remilia far more beauteous,
Rich'd with the pride of nature's excellence,
Than Venus in the brightest of her shine?
My hairs surpass they not Apollo's locks?
Are not my tresses curlèd with such art
As Love delights to hide him in their fair?
Doth not mine eye shine like the morning lamp
That tells Aurora when her love will come?

Have I not stoln the beauty of the heavens,
And plac'd it on the feature of my face?
Can any goddess make compare with me,
Or match her with the fair Remilia?
Alvi. The beauties that proud Paris saw from Troy,
Mustering in Ida for the golden ball,
Were not so gorgeous as Remilia.
Remil. I have trick'd my trammels up with richest balm,
And made my perfumes of the purest myrrh:
The precious drugs that Ægypt's wealth affords,
The costly paintings fetch'd from curious Tyre,
Have mended in my face what nature miss'd.
Am I not the earth's wonder in my looks?
Alvi. The wonder of the earth, and pride of heaven.
Remil. Look, Alvida, a hair stands not amiss;
For women's locks are trammels of conceit,
Which do entangle Love for all his wiles.
Alvi. Madam, unless you coy it trick and trim,
And play the civil wanton ere you yield,
Smiting disdain of pleasures with your tongue,
Patting your princely Rasni on the cheek
When he presumes to kiss without consent,
You mar the market: beauty naught avails:
You must be proud; for pleasures hardly got
Are sweet if once attain'd.
Remil. Fair Alvida,
Thy counsel makes Remilia passing wise.
Suppose that thou wert Rasni's mightiness,
And I Remilia, prince of excellence.
Alvi. I would be master then of love and thee.
Remil. "Of love and me! proud and disdainful king,
Dar'st thou presume to touch a deity,
Before she grace thee with a yielding smile?"
Alvi. "Tut, my Remilia, be not thou so coy;
Say nay, and take it."
Remil. "Careless and unkind!
Talks Rasni to Remilia in such sort,
As if I did enjoy a human form?
Look on thy love, behold mine eyes divine,
And dar'st thou twit me with a woman's fault?
Ah Rasni, thou art rash to judge of me:
I tell thee, Flora oft hath woo'd my lips
To lend a rose to beautify her spring;
The sea-nymphs fetch their lilies from my cheeks:
Then thou unkind"!—and hereon would I weep.
Alvi. And here would Alvida resign her charge:
For were I but in thought th' Assyrian king,
I needs must quite thy tears with kisses sweet,
And crave a pardon with a friendly touch:
You know it, madam, though I teach it not,
The touch I mean, you smile whenas you think it.
Remil. How am I pleas'd to hear thy pretty prate,
According to the humour of my mind!
Ah, nymphs, who fairer than Remilia?
The gentle winds have woo'd me with their sighs,
The frowning air hath clear'd when I did smile;
And when I trac'd upon the tender grass,
Love, that makes warm the centre of the earth,
Lift up his crest to kiss Remilia's foot;
Juno still entertains her amorous Jove
With new delights, for fear he look on me;
The phœnix' feathers are become my fan,
For I am beauty's phœnix in this world.
Shut close these curtains straight, and shadow me,
For fear Apollo spy me in his walks,
And scorn all eyes, to see Remilia's eyes.
Nymphs, eunuchs, sing, for Mavors draweth nigh;
Hide me in closure, let him long to look:
For were a goddess fairer than am I,
I'll scale the heavens to pull her from the place.
[They draw the curtains, and music plays.
Alvi. Believe me, though she say that she is fairest,
I think my penny silver by her leave.

Enter RASNI, with RADAGON and Lords in pomp, who make a ward about RASNI; also
the Magi in great pomp.

Rasni. Magi, for love of Rasni, by your art,
By magic frame an arbour out of hand,
For fair Remilia to disport her in.
Meanwhile I will bethink me on further pomp.
[Exit.
The Magi with their rods beat the ground, and from under the same rises a
brave arbour: RASNI returns in another suit, while the trumpets sound.
Rasni. Blest be ye, men of art, that grace me thus,
And blessèd be this day where Hymen hies
To join in union pride of heaven and earth!
[Lightning and thunder, wherewith REMILIA is strucken.
What wondrous threatening noise is this I hear?

What flashing lightnings trouble our delights?
When I draw near Remilia's royal tent,
I waking dream of sorrow and mishap.
Radag. Dread not, O king, at ordinary chance;
These are but common exhalations,
Drawn from the earth, in substance hot and dry,
Or moist and thick, or meteors combust,
Matters and causes incident to time,
Enkindled in the fiery region first.
Tut, be not now a Roman augurer:
Approach the tent, look on Remilia.
Rasni. Thou hast confirm'd my doubts, kind Radagon.—
Now ope, ye folds, where queen of favour sits,
Carrying a net within her curlèd locks,
Wherein the Graces are entangled oft;
Ope like th' imperial gates where Phœbus sits,
Whenas he means to woo his Clytia.
Nocturnal cares, ye blemishers of bliss,
Cloud not mine eyes, whilst I behold her face.—
Remilia, my delight!—she answereth not.
[He draws the curtains, and finds her strucken black with thunder.
How pale! as if bereav'd in fatal meads,
The balmy breath hath left her bosom quite:
My Hesperus by cloudy death is blent.—
Villains, away, fetch syrups of the Inde,
Fetch balsamo, the kind preserve of life,
Fetch wine of Greece, fetch oils, fetch herbs, fetch all,
To fetch her life, or I will faint and die.
[They bring in all these, and offer; naught prevails.
Herbs, oils of Inde, alas, there naught prevails!
Shut are the day-bright eyes that made me see,
Lock'd are the gems of joy in dens of death;
Yet triumph I on fate, and he on her:

Malicious mistress of inconstancy,
Damn'd be thy name, that hast obscur'd my joy.—
Kings, viceroys, princes, rear a royal tomb
For my Remilia; bear her from my sight,
Whilst I in tears weep for Remilia.
[They bear REMILIA'S body out.
Radag. What maketh Rasni moody? loss of one?
As if no more were left so fair as she.
Behold a dainty minion for the nonce,—
Fair Alvida, the Paphlagonian queen:
Woo her, and leave this weeping for the dead.
Rasni. What, woo my subject's wife that honoureth me!
Radag. Tut, kings this meum, tuum should not know:
Is she not fair? is not her husband hence?
Hold, take her at the hands of Radagon;
A pretty peat to drive your mourn away.
Rasni. She smiles on me, I see she is mine own.—
Wilt thou be Rasni's royal paramour?
Radag. She blushing yields consent.—Make no dispute:
The king is sad, and must be gladded straight;
Let Paphlagonian king go mourn meanwhile.
[Thrusts RASNI and ALVIDA out; and so they all exeunt.
Oseas. Pride hath his judgment: London, look about;
'Tis not enough in show to be devout.
A fury now from heaven to lands unknown
Hath made the prophet speak, not to his own.
Fly, wantons, fly this pride and vain attire,
The seals to set your tender hearts on fire:
Be faithful in the promise you have past,
Else God will plague and punish at the last.
When lust is hid in shroud of wretched life,
When craft doth dwell in bed of married wife,
Mark but the prophets, we that shortly shows,
After death expect for many woes.

Enter ALCON and THRASYBULUS, with the Lawyer.

Thras. I need not, sir, discourse unto you the duty of lawyers in
tendering the right cause of their clients, nor the conscience you are tied unto
by higher command: therefore suffice, the Usurer hath done me wrong; you know
the case; and, good sir, I have strained myself to give you your fees.
Lawyer. Sir, if I should any way neglect so manifest a truth, I were to
be accused of open perjury, for the case is evident.
Alc. And truly, sir, for my case, if you help me not for my matter,
why, sir, I and my wife are quite undone; I want my mease of milk when I go to
my work, and my boy his bread and butter when he goes to school. Master Lawyer,
pity me, for surely, sir, I was fain to lay my wife's best gown to pawn for your
fees: when I looked upon it, sir, and saw how handsomely it was daubed with
statute-lace, and what a fair mockado cape it had, and then thought how
handsomely it became my wife,—truly, sir, my heart is made of butter, it
melts at the least persecution,—I fell on weeping; but when I thought on
the words the Usurer gave me, "no cow," then, sir, I would have stript her into
her smock, but I would make him deliver my cow, ere I had done: therefore, good
Master Lawyer, stand my friend.
Lawyer. Trust me, father, I will do for thee as much as for myself.
Alc. Are you married, sir?
Lawyer. Ay, marry, am I, father.
Alc. Then good's benison light on you and your good wife, and send her
that she be never troubled with my wife's disease.
Lawyer. Why, what's thy wife's disease?
Alc. Truly, sir, she hath two open faults, and one privy fault. Sir,
the first is, she is too eloquent for a poor man, and hath the words of art, for
she will call me rascal, rogue, runagate, varlet, vagabond, slave, and knave:
why, alas, sir, and these be but holiday-terms, but if you heard her working-day
words, in faith, sir, they be rattlers like thunder, sir; for after the dew
follows a storm, for then am I sure either to be well buffeted, my face
scratched, or my head broken: and therefore, good Master Lawyer, on my knees I
ask it, let me not go home again to my wife with this word "no eow"; for then
she will exercise her two faults upon me with all extremity.
Lawyer. Fear not, man. But what is thy wife's privy fault?
Alc. Truly, sir, that's a thing of nothing; alas, she, indeed, sir-
reverence of your mastership, doth use to break wind in her sleep.—O, sir,
here comes the Judge, and the old caitif the Usurer.

Enter the Judge, attended, and the Usurer.

Usurer. Sir, here is forty angels for you, and if at any time you want
a hundred pound or two, 'tis ready at your command, or the feeding of three or
four fat bullocks: whereas these needy slaves can reward with nothing but a cap
and a knee; and therefore I pray you, sir, favour my case.
Judge. Fear not, sir, I'll do what I can for you.
Usurer. What, Master Lawyer, what make you here? mine adversary for
these clients?
Lawyer. So it chanceth now, sir.
Usurer. I know you know the old proverb, "He is not wise that is not
wise for himself": I would not be disgraced in this action; therefore here is
twenty angels; say nothing in the matter, or what you say, say to no purpose,
for the Judge is my friend.
Lawyer. Let me alone, I'll fit your purpose.
Judge. Come, where are these fellows that are the plantiffs? what can
they say against this honest citizen our neighbour, a man of good report amongst
all men?
Alc. Truly, Master Judge, he is a man much spoken of; marry, every
man's cries are against him, and especially we; and therefore I think we have
brought our Lawyer to touch him with as much law as will fetch his lands and my
cow with a pestilence.
Thras. Sir, I am the other plaintiff, and this is my counsellor: I
beseech your honour be favourable to me in equity.
Judge. O, Signor Mizaldo, what can you say in this gentleman's behalf?
Lawyer. Faith, sir, as yet little good.—Sir, tell you your own
case to the Judge, for I have so many matters in my head, that I have almost
forgotten it.
Thras. Is the wind in that door? Why, then, my lord, thus. I took up of
this cursed Usurer, for so I may well term him, a commodity of forty pounds,
whereof I received ten pound in money, and thirty pound in lute-strings, whereof
I could by great friendship make but five pounds: for the assurance of this bad
commodity I bound him my land in recognisance; I came at my day, and tendered
him his money, and he would not take it: for the redress of my open wrong I
crave but justice.
Judge. What say you to this, sir?
Usurer. That first he had no lute-strings of me; for, look you, sir, I
have his own hand to my book for the receipt of forty pound.
Thras. That was, sir, but a device of him to colour the statute.
Judge. Well, he hath thine own hand, and we can crave no more in
law.—But now, sir, he says his money was tendered at the day and hour.
Usurer. This is manifest contrary, sir, and on that I will depose; for
here is the obligation, "to be paid between three and four in the afternoon,"
and the clock struck four before he offered it, and the words be "between three
and four," therefore to be tendered before four.
Thras. Sir, I was there before four, and he held me with brabbling till
the clock struck, and then for the breach of a minute he refused my money, and
kept the recognisance of my land for so small a trifle.—Good Signor
Mizaldo, speak what is law; you have your fee, you have heard what the case is,
and therefore do me justice and right: I am a young gentleman, and speak for my
patrimony.
Lawyer. Faith, sir, the case is altered; you told me it before in
another manner: the law goes quite against you, and therefore you must plead to
the Judge for favour.
Thras. O execrable bribery!
Alc. Faith, Sir Judge, I pray you let me be the gentleman's counsellor,
for I can say thus much in his defence, that the Usurer's clock is the swiftest
clock in all the town: 'tis, sir, like a woman's tongue, it goes ever half-an-
hour before the time; for when we were gone from him, other clocks in the town
struck four.
Judge. Hold thy prating, fellow:—and you, young gentleman, this is
my ward: look better another time both to your bargains and to the payments; for
I must give flat sentence against you, that, for default of tendering the money
between the hours, you have forfeited your recognisance, and he to have the
land.
Thras. O inspeakable injustice!
Alc. O monstrous, miserable, moth-eaten Judge!
Judge. Now you, fellow, what have you to say for your matter?
Alc. Master Lawyer, I laid my wife's gown to pawn for your fees: I pray
you, to this gear.
Lawyer. Alas, poor man, thy matter is out of my head, and therefore, I
pray thee, tell it thyself.
Alc. I hold my cap to a noble that the Usurer hath given him some gold,
and he, chewing it in his mouth, hath got the toothache that he cannot speak.
Judge. Well, sirrah, I must be short, and therefore say on.
Alc. Master Judge, I borrowed of this man thirty shillings, for which I
left him in pawn my good cow; the bargain was, he should have eighteen-pence a
week, and the cow's milk for usury: now, sir, as soon as I had gotten the money,
I brought it him, and broke but a day, and for that he refused his money, and
keeps my cow, sir.
Judge. Why, thou hast given sentence against thyself, for in breaking
thy day thou hast lost thy cow.
Alc. Master Lawyer, now for my ten shillings.
Lawyer. Faith, poor man, thy case is so bad, I shall but speak against
thee.
Alc. 'Twere good, then, I should have my ten shillings again.
Lawyer. 'Tis my fee, fellow, for coming: wouldst thou have me come for
nothing?
Alc. Why, then, am I like to go home, not only with no cow, but no
gown: this gear goes hard.
Judge. Well, you have heard what favour I can show you: I must do
justice.—Come, Master Mizaldo,—and you, sir, go home with me to
dinner.
Alc. Why, but, Master Judge, no cow!—and, Master Lawyer, no gown!
Then must I clean run out of the town.
[Exeunt Judge, attended, Lawyer, and Usurer.
How cheer you, gentleman? you cry "no lands" too; the Judge hath made you a
knight for a gentleman, hath dubbed you Sir John Lack-land.
Thras. O miserable time, wherein gold is above God!
Alc. Fear not, man; I have yet a fetch to get thy lands and my cow
again, for I have a son in the court, that is either a king or a king's fellow,
and to him will I go and complain on the Judge and the Usurer both.
Thras. And I will go with thee, and entreat him for my case.
Alc. But how shall I go home to my wife, when I shall have nothing to
say unto her but "no cow"? alas, sir, my wife's faults will fall upon me!
Thras. Fear not; let's go; I'll quiet her, shalt see.
[Exeunt
Oseas. Fly, judges, fly corruption in your court;
The judge of truth hath made your judgment short.
Look so to judge, that at the latter day
Ye be not judg'd with those that wend astray.
Who passeth judgment for his private gain,
He well may judge he is adjudg'd to pain.


Enter ADAM and the crew of Ruffians drunk.

Adam. Farewell, gentle tapster.—Masters, as good ale as ever was
tapt; look to your feet, for the ale is strong.—Well, farewell, gentle
tapster.
First Ruf. [to Second Ruf.] Why, sirrah slave, by heaven's maker,
thinkest thou the wench loves thee best because she laughed on thee? give me but
such another word and I will throw the pot at thy head.
Adam. Spill no drink, spill no drink, the ale is good: I'll tell you
what, ale is ale, and so I'll commend me to you with hearty
commendations.—Farewell, gentle tapster.
Second Ruf. Why, wherefore, peasant, scornest thou that the wench
should love me? look but on her and I'll thrust my dagger in thy bosom.
First Ruf. Well, sirrah, well, thou'rt as thou'rt, and so I'll take
thee.
Second Ruf. Why, what am I?
First Ruf. Why, what thou wilt; a slave.
Second Ruf. Then take that, villain, and learn how thou use me another
time.
[Stabs First Ruf.
First Ruf. O, I am slain!
[Dies.
Second Ruf. That's all one to me, I care not: now will I in to my wench,
and call for a fresh pot.
[Exit: and then exeunt all except ADAM.
Adam. Nay, but hear ye, take me with ye, for the ale is ale.—Cut a
fresh toast, tapster, fill me a pot; here is money, I am no beggar, I'll follow
thee as long as the ale lasts.—A pestilence on the blocks for me, for I
might have had a fall: well, if we shall have no ale, I'll sit me down: and so
farewell, gentle tapster.
[Here he falls over the dead man.

Enter RASNI, ALVIDA, the KING OF CILICIA, Lords, and Attendants.

Rasni. What slaughter'd wretch lies bleeding here his last,
So near the royal palace of the king?
Search out if any one be biding nigh,
That can discourse the manner of his death.—
Seat thee, fair Alvida, the fair of fairs;
Let not the object once offend thine eyes.
First Lord. Here's one sits here asleep, my lord.
Rasni. Wake him, and make inquiry of this thing.
First Lord. Sirrah you! hearest thou, fellow?
Adam. If you will fill a fresh pot, here's a penny, or else farewell,
gentle tapster.
First Lord. He is drunk, my lord.
Rasni. We'll sport with him, that Alvida may laugh.
First Lord. Sirrah, thou fellow, thou must come to the king.
Adam. I will not do a stroke of work to-day, for the ale is good ale,
and you can ask but a penny for a pot, no more by the statute.
First Lord. Villain, here's the king; thou must come to him.
Adam. The king come to an ale-house!—Tapster, fill me three
pots.—Where's the king? is this he?—Give me your hand, sir: as good
ale as ever was tapt; you shall drink while your skin crack.
Rasni. But hearest thou, fellow, who killed this man?
Adam. I'll tell you, sir,—if you did taste of the ale,—all
Nineveh hath not such a cup of ale, it flowers in the cup, sir; by my troth, I
spent eleven pence, beside three races of ginger—
Rasni. Answer me, knave, to my question, how came this man slain?
Adam. Slain! why, [the] ale is strong ale, 'tis huffcap; I warrant you,
'twill make a man well.—Tapster, ho! for the king a cup of ale and a fresh
toast; here's two races more.
Alvi. Why, good fellow, the king talks not of drink; he would have thee
tell him how this man came dead.
Adam. Dead! nay, I think I am alive yet, and will drink a full pot ere
night: but hear ye, if ye be the wench that filled us drink, why, so, do your
office, and give us a fresh pot; or if you be the tapster's wife, why, so, wash
the glass clean.
Alvi. He is so drunk, my lord, there is no talking with him.
Adam. Drunk! nay, then, wench, I am not drunk: thou'rt a shitten quean
to call me drunk; I tell thee I am not drunk, I am a smith, I.
First Lord. Sir, here comes one perhaps that can tell.

Enter the Smith.

Smith. God save you, master.
Rasni. Smith, canst thou tell me how this man came dead?
Smith. May it please your highness, my man here and a crew of them went
to the ale-house, and came out so drunk that one of them killed another: and
now, sir, I am fain to leave my shop, and come to fetch him home.
Rasni. Some of you carry away the dead body: drunken men must have
their fits; and, sirrah smith, hence with thy man.
Smith. Sirrah you, rise, come go with me.
Adam. If we shall have a pot of ale, let's have it, here's money; hold,
tapster, take my purse.
Smith. Come, then, with me, the pot stands full in the house.
Adam. I am for you, let's go, thou'rt an honest tapster: we'll drink
six pots ere we part.
[Exeunt Smith, ADAM; and Attendants with the dead body.

Rasni. Beauteous, more bright than beauty in mine eyes,
Tell me, fair sweeting, want'st thou anything
Contain'd within the threefold circle of the world,
That may make Alvida live full content?
Alvi. Nothing, my lord; for all my thoughts are pleas'd
Whenas mine eye surfeits with Rasni's sight.

Enter the KING OF PAPHLAGONIA malcontent.

Rasni. Look how thy husband haunts our royal court,
How still his sight breeds melancholy storms.
O Alvida, I am passing passionate,
And vex'd with wrath and anger to the death!
Mars, when he held fair Venus on his knee,
And saw the limping smith come from his forge,
Had not more deeper furrows on his brow
Than Rasni hath to see this Paphlagon.
Alvi. Content thee, sweet, I'll salve thy sorrow straight;
Rest but the ease of all thy thoughts on me,
And if I make not Rasni blithe again,
Then say that women's fancies have no shifts.
K. of Paph. Sham'st thou not, Rasni, though thou be'st a king,
To shroud adultery in thy royal seat?
Art thou arch-ruler of great Nineveh,
Who shouldst excel in virtue as in state,
And wrong'st thy friend by keeping back his wife?
Have I not battled in thy troops full oft,
'Gainst Egypt, Jewry, and proud Babylon,
Spending my blood to purchase thy renown,
And is the guerdon of my chivalry
Ended in this abusing of my wife?
Restore her me, or I will from thy court,
And make discourse of thy adulterous deeds.
Rasni. Why, take her, Paphlagon, exclaim not, man;
For I do prize mine honour more than love.—
Fair Alvida, go with thy husband home.
Alvi. How dare I go, sham'd with so deep misdeed?
Revenge will broil within my husband's breast,
And when he hath me in the court at home,
Then Alvida shall feel revenge for all.
Rasni. What say'st thou, King of Paphlagon, to this?
Thou hear'st the doubt thy wife doth stand upon.
If she hath done amiss, it is my fault;
I prithee pardon and forget [it] all.
K. of Paph. If that I meant not, Rasni, to forgive,
And quite forget the follies that are past,
I would not vouch her presence in my court;
But she shall be my queen, my love, my life,
And Alvida unto her Paphlagon,
And lov'd, and more belovèd than before.
Rasni. What say'st thou, Alvida, to this?
Alvi. That, will he swear it to my lord the king,
And in a full carouse of Greekish wine
Drink down the malice of his deep revenge,
I will go home, and love him new again.
Rasni. What answers Paphlagon?
K. of Paph. That what she hath requested I will do.
Alvi. Go, damosel, [and] fetch me that sweet wine
That stands within my closet on the shelf;
Pour it into a standing-bowl of gold,
But, on thy life, taste not before the king:
Make haste.
[Exit Female Attendant.
Why is great Rasni melancholy thus?
If promise be not kept, hate all for me.
[Wine brought in by Female Attendant.
Here is the wine, my lord: first make him swear.
K. of Paph. By Nineveh's great gods, and Nineveh's great king,
My thoughts shall never be to wrong my wife!
And thereon here's a full carouse to her.
[Drinks.
Alvi. And thereon, Rasni, here's a kiss for thee;
Now mayst thou freely fold thine Alvida.
K. of Paph. O, I am dead! obstruction's of my breath!
The poison is of wondrous sharp effect.
Cursèd be all adulterous queans, say I!
And cursing so, poor Paphlagon doth die.
[Dies.
Alvi. Now, have I not salv'd the sorrows of my lord?
Have I not rid a rival of thy loves?
What say'st thou, Rasni, to thy paramour?
Rasni. That for this deed I'll deck my Alvida
In sendal, and in costly sussapine,
Border'd with pearl and India diamond;
I'll cause great Æol perfume all his winds
With richest myrrh and curious ambergreece.
Come, lovely minion, paragon for fair,
Come follow me, sweet goddess of mine eye,
And taste the pleasures Rasni will provide.
[Exeunt.
Oseas. Where whoredom reigns, there murder follows fast,
As falling leaves before the winter blast.
A wicked life, train'd up in endless crime,
Hath no regard unto the latter time,
When lechers shall be punish'd for their lust,
When princes plagu'd because they are unjust.
Foresee in time, the warning-bell doth toll;
Subdue the flesh by prayer to save the soul:
London, behold the cause of others' wrack,
And see the sword of justice at thy back:
Defer not off, to-morrow is too late;
By night he comes perhaps to judge thy state.

Enter JONAS.

Jonas. From forth the depth of my imprison'd soul
Steal you, my sighs, [to] testify my pain;
Convey on wings of mine immortal tone
My zealous prayers unto the starry throne.
Ah merciful and just, thou dreadful God!
Where is thine arm to lay revengeful strokes
Upon the heads of our rebellious race?
Lo, Israel, once that flourish'd like the vine,
Is barren laid; the beautiful increase
Is wholly blent, and irreligious zeal
Encampeth there where virtue was enthron'd:
Alas, the while the widow wants relief,
The fatherless is wrong'd by naked need,
Devotion sleeps in cinders of contempt,
Hypocrisy infects the holy priest!
Ay me, for this! woe me, for these misdeeds!
Alone I walk to think upon the world,
And sigh to see thy prophets so contemn'd,
Alas, contemn'd by cursèd Israel!
Yet, Jonas, rest content, 'tis Israel's sin
That causeth this; then muse no more thereon,
But pray amends, and mend thy own amiss.

An Angel appears to JONAS.
Angel. Amittai's son, I charge thee muse no more:
I AM hath power to pardon and correct;
To thee pertains to do the Lord's command.
Go girt thy loins, and haste thee quickly hence;
To Nineveh, that mighty city, wend,
And say this message from the Lord of hosts,
Preach unto them these tidings from thy God;—
"Behold, thy wickedness hath tempted me,
And piercèd through the nine-fold orbs of heaven:
Repent, or else thy judgment is at hand."
[This said, the Angel vanishes.
Jonas. Prostrate I lie before the Lord of hosts,
With humble ears intending his behest:
Ah, honour'd be Jehovah's great command!
Then Jonas must to Nineveh repair,
Commanded as the prophet of the Lord.
Great dangers on this journey do await,
But dangers none where heavens direct the course.
What should I deem? I see, yea, sighing see,
How Israel sin[s], yet knows the way of truth,
And thereby grows the bye-word of the world.
How, then, should God in judgment be so strict
'Gainst those who never heard or knew his power,
To threaten utter ruin of them all?
Should I report this judgment of my God,
I should incite them more to follow sin,
And publish to the world my country's blame:
It may not be, my conscience tells me—no.
Ah Jonas, wilt thou prove rebellious, then?
Consider, ere thou fall, what error is.
My mind misgives: to Joppa will I fly,
And for a while to Tharsus shape my course,
Until the Lord unfret his angry brows.

Enter certain Merchants of Tharsus, a Master, and som Sailors.

Mas. Come on, brave merchants; now the wind doth serve,

And sweetly blows a gale at west-south-west,
Our yards across, our anchors on the pike,
What, shall we hence, and take this merry gale?
First Mer. Sailors, convey our budgets straight aboard,
And we will recompense your pains at last:
If once in safety we may Tharsus see,
Master, we'll feast these merry mates and thee.
Mas. Meanwhile content yourselves with silly cates;
Our beds are boards, our feasts are full of mirth:
We use no pomp, we are the lords of sea;
When princes sweat in care, we swink of glee.
Orion's shoulders and the Pointers serve
To be our loadstars in the lingering night;
The beauties of Arcturus we behold;
And though the sailor is no bookman held,
He knows more art than ever bookmen read.
First Sai. By heavens, well said in honour of our trade!
Let's see the proudest scholar steer his course,
Or shift his tides, as silly sailors do;
Then will we yield them praise, else never none.
First Mer. Well spoken, fellow, in thine own behalf.
But let us hence; wind tarries none, you wot,
And tide and time let slip is hardly got.
Mas. March to the haven, merchants; I follow you.
[Exeunt Merchants.
Jonas. [aside.] Now doth occasion further my desires;
I find companions fit to aid my flight.—
Stay, sir, I pray, and hear a word or two.
Mas. Say on, good friend, but briefly, if you please;
My passengers by this time are aboard.
Jonas. Whither pretend you to embark yourselves?
Mas. To Tharsus, sir, and here in Joppa-haven Our ship is prest, and
ready to depart.
Jonas. May I have passage for my money, then?
Mas. What not for money? pay ten silverlings,
You are a welcome guest, if so you please.
Jonas [giving money]. Hold, take thine hire; I follow thee, my
friend.
Mas. Where is your budget? let me bear it, sir.
Jonas. To one in peace, who sail[s] as I do now,
Put trust in him who succoureth every want.
[Exeunt.
Oseas. When prophets, new-inspir'd, presume to force
And tie the power of heaven to their conceits;
When fear, promotion, pride, or simony,
Ambition, subtle craft, their thoughts disguise,
Woe to the flock whereas the shepherd's foul!
For, lo, the Lord at unawares shall plague
The careless guide, because his flocks do stray.
The axe already to the tree is set:
Beware to tempt the Lord, ye men of art.

Enter ALCON, THRASYBULUS, SAMIA, and CLESIPHON.

Cles. Mother, some meat, or else I die for want!
Sam. Ah little boy, how glad thy mother would
Supply thy wants, but naked need denies!
Thy father's slender portion in this world
By usury and false deceit is lost:
No charity within this city bides;
All for themselves, and none to help the poor.
Cles. Father, shall Clesiphon have no relief?
Alc. Faith, my boy, I must be flat with thee, we must feed upon
proverbs now; as "Necessity hath no law," "A churl's feast is better than none
at all:" for other remedies have we none, except thy brother Radagon help us.
Sam. Is this thy slender care to help our child?
Hath nature arm'd thee to no more remorse?
Ah cruel man, unkind and pitiless!—
Come, Clesiphon, my boy, I'll beg for thee.
Cles. O, how my mother's mourning moveth me!
Alc. Nay, you shall pay me interest for getting the boy, wife, before
you carry him hence: alas, woman, what can Alcon do more? I'll pluck the belly
out of my heart for thee, sweet Samia; be not so waspish.
Sam. Ah silly man, I know thy want is great,
And foolish I to crave where nothing is.
Haste, Alcon, haste, make haste unto our son;
Who, since he is in favour of the king,
May help this hapless gentleman and us
For to regain our goods from tyrant's hands.
Thras. Have patience, Samia, wait your weal from heaven:
The gods have rais'd your son, I hope, for this,
To succour innocents in their distress.
Lo, where he comes from the imperial court;
Go, let us prostrate us before his feet.
Alc. Nay, by my troth, I'll never ask my son blessing; che trow, cha
taught him his lesson to know his father.

Enter RADAGON attended.

What, son Radagon! i'faith, boy, how dost thee?
Rad. Villain, disturb me not; I cannot stay.
Alc. Tut, son, I'll help you of that disease quickly, for I can hold
thee: ask thy mother, knave, what cunning I have to ease a woman when a qualm of
kindness comes too near her stomach; let me but clasp mine arms about her body,
and say my prayers in her bosom, and she shall be healed presently.
Radag. Traitor unto my princely majesty,

How dar'st thou lay thy hands upon a king?
Sam. No traitor, Radagon, but true is he:
What, hath promotion blearèd thus thine eye,
To scorn thy father when he visits thee?
Alas, my son, behold with ruthful eyes
Thy parents robb'd of all their worldly weal
By subtle means of usury and guile:
The judge's ears are deaf and shut up close;
All mercy sleeps: then be thou in these plunges
A patron to thy mother in her pains:
Behold thy brother almost dead for food:
O, succour us, that first did succour thee!
Radag. What, succour me! false callet, hence, avaunt!
Old dotard, pack! move not my patience:
I know you not; kings never look so low.
Sam. You know us not! O Radagon, you know
That, knowing us, you know your parents then;
Thou know'st this womb first brought thee forth to light:
I know these paps did foster thee, my son.
Alc. And I know he hath had many a piece of bread and cheese at my
hands, as proud as he is; that know I.
Thras. I wait no hope of succour in this place, Where children hold
their fathers in disgrace.
Radag. Dare you enforce the furrows of revenge
Within the brows of royal Radagon?
Villain, avaunt! hence, beggars, with your brats!—
Marshal, why whip you not these rogues away,
That thus disturb our royal majesty?
Cles. Mother, I see it is a wondrous thing,
From base estate for to become a king;
For why, methink, my brother in these fits
Hath got a kingdom, but hath lost his wits.
Radag. Yet more contempt before my royalty?
Slaves, fetch out tortures worse than Tityus' plagues,
And tear their tongues from their blasphémous heads.
Thras. I'll get me gone, though wo-begone with grief:
No hope remains:—come, Alcon, let us wend.
Radag. 'Twere best you did, for fear you catch your bane.
[Exit THRASYBULUS.
Sam. Nay, traitor, I will haunt thee to the death:
Ungracious son, untoward, and perverse,
I'll fill the heavens with echoes of thy pride,
And ring in every ear thy small regard,
That dost despise thy parents in their wants;
And breathing forth my soul before thy feet,
My curses still shall haunt thy hateful head,
And being dead, my ghost shall thee pursue.

Enter RASNI, attended on by his Magi and Kings.

Rasni. How now! what mean these outcries in our court,
Where naught should sound but harmonies of heaven?
What maketh Radagon so passionate?
Sam. Justice, O king, justice against my son!
Rasni. Thy son! what son?
Sam. This cursèd Radagon.
Radag Dread monarch, this is but a lunacy,
Which grief and want hath brought the woman to.—
What, doth this passion hold you every moon?
Sam. O politic in sin and wickedness,
Too impudent for to delude thy prince!—
O Rasni, this same womb first brought him forth:
This is his father, worn with care and age,
This is his brother, poor unhappy lad,
And I his mother, though contemn'd by him.
With tedious toil we got our little good,
And brought him up to school with mickle charge:
Lord, how we joy'd to see his towardness!
And to ourselves we oft in silence said,
This youth when we are old may succour us.
But now preferr'd and lifted up by thee,
We quite destroy'd by cursèd usury,
He scorneth me, his father, and this child.
Cles. He plays the serpent right, describ'd in Esop's tale,
That sought the foster's death, that lately gave him life.
Alc. Nay, an please your majesty-ship, for proof he was my child,
search the parish-book: the clerk will swear it, his godfathers and godmothers
can witness it: it cost me forty pence in ale and cakes on the wives at his
christening.—Hence, proud king! thou shalt never more have my blessing.
Rasni. [taking RADAGON apart.] Say sooth in secret, Radagon,
Is this thy father?
Radag. Mighty king, he is;
I blushing tell it to your majesty.
Rasni. Why dost thou, then, contemn him and his friends?
Radag. Because he is a base and abject swain,
My mother and her brat both beggarly,
Unmeet to be allied unto a king:
Should I, that look on Rasni's countenance,
And march amidst his royal equipage,
Embase myself to speak to such as they?
'Twere impious so to impair the love
That mighty Rasni bears to Radagon.
I would your grace would quit them from your sight,
That dare presume to look on Jove's compare.
Rasni. I like thy pride, I praise thy policy;
Such should they be that wait upon my court:
Let me alone to answer, Radagon.—
Villains, seditious traitors, as you be,
That scandalize the honour of a king,
Depart my court, you stales of impudence,
Unless you would be parted from your limbs!
So base for to entitle fatherhood
To Rasni's friend, to Rasni's favourite.
Radag. Hence, begging scold! hence, caitif clogg'd with years!
On pain of death, revisit not the court.
Was I conceiv'd by such a scurvy trull,
Or brought to light by such a lump of dirt?
Go, losel, trot it to the cart and spade!
Thou art unmeet to look upon a king,
Much less to be the father of a king.
Alc. You may see, wife, what a goodly piece of work you have made: have
I taught you arsmetry, as additiori multiplicarum, the rule of three, and
all for the begetting of a boy, and to be banished for my labour? O pitiful
hearing!—Come, Clesiphon, follow me.
Cles. Brother, beware: I oft have heard it told,
That sons who do their fathers scorn shall beg when they be old.
Radag. Hence, bastard boy, for fear you taste the whip!
[Exeunt ALCON and CLESIPHON.
Sam. O all you heavens, and you eternal powers
That sway the sword of justice in your hands,
(If mother's curses for her son's contempt
May fill the balance of your fury full,)
Pour down the tempest of your direful plagues
Upon the head of cursèd Radagon!
[A flame of fire appears from beneath, and RADAGON is swallowed.
So you are just: now triumph, Samia!
[Exit.
Rasni. What exorcising charm, or hateful hag,
Hath ravishèd the pride of my delight?
What tortuous planets, or malevolent
Conspiring power, repining destiny,
Hath made the concave of the earth unclose,
And shut in ruptures lovely Radagon?
If I be lord commander of the clouds,
King of the earth, and sovereign of the seas,
What daring Saturn, from his fiery den,
Doth dart these furious flames amidst my court?
I am not chief, there is more great than I:
What, greater than th' Assyrian Satrapos?
It may not be, and yet I fear there is,
That hath bereft me of my Radagon.
First Magus. Monarch, and potentate of all our provinces,
Muse not so much upon this accident,
Which is indeed nothing miraculous.
The hill of Sicily, dread sovereign,
Sometime on sudden doth evacuate
Whole flakes of fire, and spews out from below
The smoky brands that Vulcan's bellows drive:
Whether by winds enclosèd in the earth,
Or fracture of the earth by rivers' force,
Such chances as was this are often seen;
Whole cities sunk, whole countries drownèd quite.
Then muse not at the loss of Radagon,
But frolic with the dalliance of your love.
Let cloths of purple, set with studs of gold,
Embellishèd with all the pride of earth,
Be spread for Alvida to sit upon:
Then thou, like Mars courting the queen of love,
Mayst drive away this melancholy fit.
Rasni. The proof is good and philosophical;
And more, thy counsel plausible and sweet.—
Come, lords, though Rasni wants his Radagon,
Earth will repay him many Radagons,
And Alvida with pleasant looks revive
The heart that droops for want of Radagon.
[Exeunt.
Oseas. When disobedience reigneth in the child,
And princes' ears by flattery be beguil'd;
When laws do pass by favour, not by truth;
When falsehood swarmeth both in old and youth;
When gold is made a god to wrong the poor,
And charity exil'd from rich men's door;
When men by wit do labour to disprove
The plagues for sin sent down by God above;
When great men's ears are stopt to good advice,
And apt to hear those tales that feed their vice;
Woe to the land! for from the east shall rise
A Lamb of peace, the scourge of vanities,
The judge of truth, the patron of the just,
Who soon will lay presumption in the dust,
And give the humble poor their hearts' desire,
And doom the worldlings to eternal fire:
Repent all you that hear, for fear of plagues.
O London, this and more doth swarm in thee!
Repent, repent, for why the Lord doth see:
With trembling pray, and mend what is amiss;
The sword of justice drawn already is.


Enter ADAM and the Smith's Wife.

Adam. Why, but hear you, mistress: you know a woman's eyes are like a
pair of pattens, fit to save shoe-leather in summer, and to keep away the cold
in winter; so you may like your husband with the one eye because you are
married, and me with the other because I am your man. Alas, alas! think,
mistress, what a thing love is: why, it is like to an ostry-faggot, that, once
set on-fire, is as hardly quenched as the bird crocodile driven out of her nest.
S. Wife. Why, Adam, cannot a woman wink but she must sleep, and can she
not love but she must cry it out at the cross? Know, Adam, I love thee as
myself, now that we are together in secret.
Adam. Mistress, these words of yours are like a fox-tail placed in a
gentlewoman's fan, which, as it is light, so it giveth life: O, these words are
as sweet as a lily! whereupon, offering a borachio of kisses to your unseemly
personage, I entertain you upon further acquaintance.
S. Wife. Alas, my husband comes!
Adam. Strike up the drum,
And say no words but mum.

Enter the Smith.

Smith. Sirrah you, and you, huswife, well taken together! I have long
suspected you, and now I am glad I have found you together.
Adam. Truly, sir, and I am glad that I may do you any way pleasure,
either in helping you or my mistress.
Smith. Boy, hear, and, knave, you shall know it straight, I will have
you both before the magistrate, and there have you surely punished.
Adam. Why, then, master, you are jealous?
Smith. Jealous, knave! how can I be but jealous, to see you ever so
familiar together? thou art not only content to drink away my goods, but to
abuse my wife.
Adam. Two good qualities, drunkenness and lechery: but, master, are you
jealous?
Smith. Ay, knave, and thou shalt know it ere I pass, for I will
beswinge thee while this rope will hold.
S. Wife. My good husband, abuse him not, for he never proffered you any
wrong.
Smith. Nay, whore, thy part shall not be behind.
Adam. Why, suppose, master, I have offended you, is it lawful for the
master to beat the servant for all offences?
Smith. Ay, marry, is it, knave.
Adam. Then, master, will I prove by logic that seeing all sins are to
receive correction, the master is to be corrected of the man. And, sir, I pray
you, what greater sin is than jealousy? 'tis like a mad dog that for anger bites
himself: therefore that I may do my duty to you, good master, and to make a
white son of you, I will so beswinge jealousy out of you as you shall love me
the better while you live.
Smith. What, beat thy master, knave?
Adam. What, beat thy man, knave? and, ay, master, and double beat you,
because you are a man of credit; and therefore have at you the fairest for forty
pence!
[Beats the Smith.
Smith. Alas, wife, help, help! my man kills me.
S. Wife. Nay, even as you have baked, so brew: jealousy must be driven
out by extremities.
Adam. And that will I do, mistress.
Smith. Hold thy hand, Adam; and not only I forgive and forget all, but
I will give thee a good farm to live on.
Adam, Be gone, peasant, out of the compass of my further wrath, for I
am a corrector of vice; and at night I will bring home my mistress.
Smith. Even when you please, good Adam.
Adam. When I please,—mark the words,—'tis a lease-parol to
have and to hold. Thou shalt be mine for ever: and so let's go to the ale-house.
[Exeunt.
Oseas. Where servants against masters do rebel,
The commonweal may be accounted hell;
For if the feet the head shall hold in scorn,
The city's state will fall and be forlorn.
This error, London, waiteth on thy state:
Servants, amend, and, masters, leave to hate;
Let love abound, and virtue reign in all;
So God will hold his hand, that threateneth thrall,

Enter the Merchants of Tharsus, the Master of the Ship, and some
Sailors, wet from the sea; with them the Governor of Joppa.

Gov. What strange encounters met you on the sea,
That thus your bark is batter'd by the floods,
And you return thus sea-wreck'd as I see?
First Mer. Most mighty Governor, the chance is strange,
The tidings full of wonder and amaze,
Which, better than we, our Master can report.
Gov. Master, discourse us all the accident.
Mas. The fair Triones with their glimmering light
Smil'd at the foot of clear Bootes' wain,
And in the north, distinguishing the hours,
The loadstar of our course dispers'd his clear;
When to the seas with blitheful western blasts
We sail'd amain, and let the bowling fly.
Scarce had we gone ten leagues from sight of land,
But, lo, an host of black and sable clouds
Gan to eclipse Lucina's silver face;
And, with a hurling noise from forth the south,
A gust of wind did rear the billows up.
Then scantled we our sails with speedy hands,
And took our drablers from our bonnets straight,
And severèd our bonnets from our courses:
Our topsails up, we truss our spritsails in;
But vainly strive they that resist the heavens.
For, lo, the waves incense them more and more,
Mounting with hideous roarings from the depth;
Our bark is batter'd by encountering storms,
And well-nigh stemm'd by breaking of the floods.
The steersman, pale and careful, holds his helm,
Wherein the trust of life and safety lay:
Till all at once (a mortal tale to tell)
Our sails were split by Bisa's bitter blast,
Our rudder broke, and we bereft of hope.
There might you see, with pale and ghastly looks,
The dead in thought, and doleful merchants lift
Their eyes and hands unto their country's gods.
The goods we cast in bowels of the sea,
A sacrifice to 'suage proud Neptune's ire.
Only alone a man of Israel,
A passenger, did under hatches lie,
And slept secure, when we for succour pray'd:
Him I awoke, and said, "Why slumberest thou?
Arise, and pray, and call upon thy god;
He will perhaps in pity look on us."
Then cast we lots to know by whose amiss
Our mischief came, according to the guise;
And, lo, the lot did unto Jonas fall,
The Israelite of whom I told you last.
Then question we his country and his name;
Who answer'd us, "I am an Hebrew born,
Who fear the Lord of heaven who made the sea,
And fled from him, for which we all are plagu'd:
So, to assuage the fury of my God,
Take me and cast my carcass in the sea;
Then shall this stormy wind and billow cease."
The heavens they know, the Hebrew's god can tell,
How loath we were to execute his will:
But when no oars nor labour might suffice,
We heav'd the hapless Jonas overboard.
So ceas'd the storm, and calmèd all the sea,
And we by strength of oars recover'd shore.
Gov. A wondrous chance of mighty consequence!
First Mer. Ah, honour'd be the god that wrought the same!
For we have vow'd, that saw his wondrous works,
To cast away profanèd paganism,
And count the Hebrew's god the only god:
To him this offering of the purest gold,
This myrrh and cassia, freely I do yield.
Second Mer. And on his altar's fume these Turkey cloths,
This gassampine and gold, I'll sacrifice.
First Sai. To him my heart and thoughts I will addict.
Then suffer us, most mighty Governor,
Within your temples to do sacrifice.
Gov. You men of Tharsus, follow me,
Who sacrifice unto the God of heaven;
And welcome, friends, to Joppa's Governor.
[Exeunt. A sacrifice.
Oseas. If warnèd once, the ethnics thus repent,
And at the first their error do lament,
What senseless beasts, devourèd in their sin,
Are they whom long persuasions cannot win!
Beware, ye western cities,—where the word
Is daily preachèd, both at church and board,
Where majesty the gospel doth maintain,
Where preachers, for your good, themselves do pain,—
To dally long and still protract the time;
The Lord is just, and you but dust and slime:
Presume not far, delay not to amend;
Who suffereth long, will punish in the end.
Cast thy account, O London, in this case,
Then judge what cause thou hast to call for grace!

JONAS is cast out of the whale's belly upon the stage.
Jonas. Lord of the light, thou maker of the world,
Behold, thy hands of mercy rear me up!
Lo, from the hideous bowels of this fish
Thou hast return'd me to the wishèd air!
Lo, here, apparent witness of thy power,
The proud leviathan that scours the seas,
And from his nostrils showers out stormy floods,
Whose back resists the tempest of the wind,
Whose presence makes the scaly troops to shake,
With humble stress of his broad-open'd chaps,
Hath lent me harbour in the raging floods!
Thus, though my sin hath drawn me down to death,
Thy mercy hath restorèd me to life.
Bow ye, my knees; and you, my bashful eyes,
Weep so for grief as you to water would.
In trouble, Lord, I callèd unto thee,
Out of the belly of the deepest hell;
I cried, and thou didst hear my voice, O God!
'Tis thou hadst cast me down into the deep:
The seas and floods did compass me about;
I thought I had been cast from out thy sight;
The weeds were wrapt about my wretched head;
I went unto the bottom of the hills:
But thou, O Lord my God, hast brought me up!
On thee I thought whenas my soul did faint:
My prayers did prease before thy mercy-seat.
Then will I pay my vows unto the Lord,
For why salvation cometh from his throne.

The Angel appears.
Angel. Jonas, arise, get thee to Nineveh,
And preach to them the preachings that I bade;
Haste thee to see the will of heaven perform'd.
Jonas. Jehovah, I am prest to do thy will.—
[The Angel departs.
What coast is this, and where am I arriv'd?
Behold sweet Lycus streaming in his bounds,
Bearing the walls of haughty Nineveh,
Whereas three hundred towers do tempt the heaven.
Fair are thy walls, pride of Assyria;
But, lo, thy sins have piercèd through the clouds!
Here will I enter boldly, since I know
My God commands, whose power no power resists.
[Exit.
Oseas. You prophets, learn by Jonas how to live;
Repent your sins, whilst he doth warning give.
Who knows his master's will, and doth it not,
Shall suffer many stripes, full well I wot

Enter ALVIDA in rich attire, with the KING OF CILICIA, and her
Ladies.

Alv. Ladies, go sit you down amidst this bower,
And let the eunuchs play you all asleep:
Put garlands made of roses on your heads,
And play the wantons, whilst I talk a while.
First Lady. Thou beautiful of all the world, we will.
[Ladies enter the bower.
Alv. King of Cilicia, kind and courteous,
Like to thyself because a lovely king,
Come, lay thee down upon thy mistress' knee,
And I will sing and talk of love to thee.
K. of Cil. Most gracious paragon of excellence,
It fits not such an abject prince as I,
To talk with Rasni's paramour and love.
Alv. To talk, sweet friend! who would not talk with thee?
O, be not coy! art thou not only fair?
Come, twine thine arms about this snow-white neck,
A love-nest for the great Assyrian king:
Blushing I tell thee, fair Cilician prince,
None but thyself can merit such a grace.
K. of Cil. Madam, I hope you mean not for to mock me.
Alv. No, king, fair king, my meaning is to yoke thee.
Hear me but sing of love, then by my sighs,
My tears, my glancing looks, my changèd cheer,
Thou shalt perceive how I do hold thee dear.
K. of Cil. Sing, madam, if you please, but love in jest.
Alv. Nay, I will love, and sigh at every rest.
[Sings.
Beauty, alas, where wast thou born,
Thus to hold thyself in scorn?
Whenas Beauty kiss'd to woo thee,
Thou by Beauty dost undo me:
Heigh-ho, despise me not!

I and thou, in sooth, are one,
Fairer thou, I fairer none:
Wanton thou, and wilt thou, wanton,
Yield a cruel heart to plant on?
Do me right, and do me reason;
Cruelty is cursèd treason:
Heigh-ho, I love! heigh-ho, I love!
Heigh-ho! and yet he eyes me not.

K. of Cil. Madam, your song is passing passionate.
Alv. And wilt thou not, then, pity my estate?
K. of Cil. Ask love of them who pity may impart.
Alv. I ask of thee, sweet; thou hast stole my heart.
K. of Cil. Your love is fixèd on a greater king.
Alv. Tut, women's love it is a fickle thing.
I love my Rasni for his dignity,
I love Cilician king for his sweet eye;
I love my Rasni since he rules the world,

But more I love this kingly little world.
[Embraces him.
How sweet he looks! O, were I Cynthia's fere,
And thou Endymion, I should hold thee dear:
Thus should mine arms be spread about thy neck,
[Embraces his neck.
Thus would I kiss my love at every beck;
[Kisses him.
Thus would I sigh to see thee sweetly sleep,
And if thou wak'dst not soon, thus would I weep;
And thus, and thus, and thus, thus much I love thee.
[Kisses him.
K. of Cil. For all these vows, beshrew me, if I prove ye:
My faith unto my king shall not be fals'd.
Alv. Good Lord, how men are coy when they are crav'd!
K. of Cil. Madam, behold our king approacheth nigh.
Alv. Thou art Endymion, then, no more: heigh-ho, for him I die!
[Faints, while pointing at the KING OF CILICIA.

Enter RASNI, with his Kings, Lords, and Magi.

Rasni. What ails the centre of my happiness,
Whereon depends the heaven of my delight?
Thine eyes the motors to command my world,
Thy hands the axier to maintain my world,
Thy smiles the prime and spring-tide of my world,
Thy frowns the winter to afflict my world,
Thou queen of me, I king of all the world!
Alv. Ah feeble eyes, lift up, and look on him!
[Rises as out of a trance.
Is Rasni here? then droop no more, poor heart.—
O, how I fainted when I wanted thee!
[Embraces him.
How fain am I, now I may look on thee!
How glorious is my Rasni, how divine!—
Eunuchs, play hymns to praise his deity:
He is my Jove, and I his Juno am.
Rasni. Sun-bright as is the eye of summer's day
Whenas he suits his pennons all in gold
To woo his Leda in a swan-like shape;
Seemly as Galatea for thy white;
Rose-colour'd, lily, lovely, wanton, kind,
Be thou the labyrinth to tangle love,
Whilst I command the crown from Venus' crest,
And pull Orion's girdle from his loins,
Enchas'd with carbuncles and diamonds,
To beautify fair Alvida, my love.—
Play, eunuchs, sing in honour of her name;
Yet look not, slaves, upon her wooing eyne,
For she is fair Lucina to your king,
But fierce Medusa to your baser eye.
Alv. What if I slept, where should my pillow be?
Rasni. Within my bosom, nymph, not on my knee:
Sleep, like the smiling purity of heaven,
When mildest wind is loth to blend the peace;
Meanwhile my balm shall from thy breath arise;
And while these closures of thy lamps be shut,
My soul may have his peace from fancy's war.—
This is my Morn, and I her Cephalus:—
Wake not too soon, sweet nymph, my love is won.—
Caitiffs, why stay your strains? why tempt you me?

Enter the Priests of the Sun, with mitres on their heads, carrying fire in
their hands.

First Priest. All hail unto th' Assyrian deity!
Rasni. Priests, why presume you to disturb my peace?
First Priest. Rasni, the Destinies disturb thy peace.
Behold, amidst the adyts of our gods,
Our mighty gods, the patrons of our war,
The ghosts of dead men howling walk about,
Crying "Vœ, vœ, woe to this city, woe!"
The statues of our gods are thrown down,
And streams of blood our altars do distain.
Alv. [starting up.] Alas, my lord, what tidings do I hear?
Shall I be slain?
Rasni. Who tempteth Alvida?
Go, break me up the brazen doors of dreams,
And bind me cursèd Morpheus in a chain,
And fetter all the fancies of the night,
Because they do disturb my Alvida.
[A hand from out a cloud threatens with a burning sword.
K. of Cil. Behold, dread prince, a burning sword from heaven,
Which by a threatening arm is brandishèd!
Rasni. What, am I threaten'd, then, amidst my throne?
Sages, you Magi, speak; what meaneth this?
First Magus. These are but clammy exhalations,
Or retrograde conjunctions of the stars,
Or oppositions of the greater lights,
Or radiations finding matter fit,
That in the starry sphere kindled be;
Matters betokening dangers to thy foes,
But peace and honour to my lord the king.
Rasni. Then frolic, viceroys, kings, and potentates;
Drive all vain fancies from your feeble minds.
Priests, go and pray, whilst I prepare my feast,
Where Alvida and I, in pearl and gold,
Will quaff unto our nobles richest wine,
In spite of fortune, fate, or destiny.

[Exeunt.
Oseas. Woe to the trains of women's foolish lust,
In wedlock-rites that yield but little trust,
That vow to one, yet common be to all!
Take warning, wantons; pride will have a fall.
Woe to the land where warnings profit nought!
Who say that nature God's decrees hath wrought;
Who build on fate, and leave the corner-stone,
The God of gods, sweet Christ, the only one.
If such escapes, O London, reign in thee,
Repent, for why each sin shall punish'd be:
Repent, amend, repent, the hour is nigh;
Defer not time; who knows when he shall die?

Enter one clad in Devil's attire.

Dev. Longer lives a merry man than a sad; and because I mean to make
myself pleasant this night, I have put myself into this attire, to make a clown
afraid that passeth this way: for of late there have appeared many strange
apparitions, to the great fear and terror of the citizens.—O, here my young
master comes.

Enter ADAM and the Smith's Wife.

Adam. Fear not, mistress, I'll bring you safe home: if my master frown,
then will I stamp and stare; and if all be not well then, why then tomorrow morn
put out mine eyes clean with forty pound.
S. Wife. O, but, Adam, I am afraid to walk so late, because of the
spirits that appear in the city.
Adam. What, are you afraid of spirits? Armed as I am, with ale and
nutmegs, turn me loose to all the devils in hell.
S. Wife. Alas, Adam, Adam! the devil, the devil!
Adam. The devil, mistress! fly you for your safeguard; [Exit S.
Wife.] let me alone; the devil and I will deal well enough, if he have any
honesty at all in him: I'll either win him with a smooth tale, or else with a
toast and a cup of ale.
Dev. [singing.]

O, O, O, O, fain would I be,
If that my kingdom fulfill'd I might see!
O, O, O, O!

Adam, Surely, this is a merry devil, and I believe he is one of
Lucifer's minstrels; hath a sweet voice; now surely, surely, he may sing to a
pair of tongs and a bag-pipe.
Dev. O, thou art he that I seek for.
Adam. Spritus santus!— Away from me, Satan! I have nothing to do
with thee.
Dev. O villain, thou art mine!
Adam. Nominus patrus!— I bless me from thee, and I conjure thee to
tell me who thou art.
Dev. I am the spirit of the dead man that was slain in thy company when
we were drunk together at the ale.
Adam. By my troth, sir, I cry you mercy; your face is so changed that I
had quite forgotten you: well, master devil, we have tossed over many a pot of
ale together.
Dev. And therefore must thou go with me to hell.
Adam. [aside.] I have a policy to shift him, for I know he comes
out of a hot place, and I know myself, the smith and the devil hath a dry tooth
in his head: therefore will I leave him asleep, and run my way.
Dev. Come, art thou ready?
Adam. Faith, sir, my old friend, and now goodman devil, you know you
and I have been tossing many a good cup of ale: your nose is grown very rich:
what say you, will you take a pot of ale now at my hands? Hell is like a smith's
forge, full of water, and yet ever athirst.
Dev. No ale, villain; spirits cannot drink: come, get upon my back,
that I may carry thee.
Adam. You know I am a smith, sir: let me look whether you be well shod
or no; for if you want a shoe, a remove, or the clinching of a nail, I am at
your command.
Dev. Thou hast never a shoe fit for me.
Adam. Why, sir, we shoe horned beasts, as well as
you.—[Aside.] O good Lord! let me sit down and laugh; hath never a
cloven foot: a devil, quoth he! I'll use Spritus santus nor Nominus
patrus no more to him, I warrant you; I'll do more good upon him with my
cudgel: now will I sit me down, and become justice of peace to the devil.
Dev. Come, art thou ready?
Adam. I am ready; and with this cudgel I will conjure thee.
[Beats him.
Dev. O, hold thy hand! thou killest me, thou killest me!
[Exit.
Adam. Then may I count myself, I think, a tall man, that am able to kill
a devil: now who dare deal with me in the parish? or what wench in Nineveh will
not love me, when they say, "There goes he that beat the devil"?
[Exit.

Enter THRASYBULUS.

Thras. Loath'd is the life that now enforc'd I lead;
But since necessity will have it so,
(Necessity it doth command the gods,)
Through every coast and corner now I pry,
To pilfer what I can to buy me meat.
Here have I got a cloak, not over old,
Which will afford some little sustenance:
Now will I to the broking Usurer,
To make exchange of ware for ready coin.

Enter ALCON, SAMIA, and CLESIPHON.

Alc. Wife, bid the trumpets sound, a prize, a prize! mark the posy: I
cut this from a newmarried wife by the help of a horn-thumb and a
knife,—six shillings, four pence.
Sam. The better luck ours: but what have we here, cast apparel? Come
away, man, the Usurer is near: this is dead ware, let it not bide on our hands.
Thras. [aside.] Here are my partners in my poverty,
Enforc'd to seek their fortunes as I do:
Alas, that few men should possess the wealth,
And many souls be forc'd to beg or steal!—
Alcon, well met.
Alc. Fellow beggar, whither now?
Thras. To the Usurer, to get gold on commodity.
Alc. And I to the same place, to get a vent for my villany. See where
the old crust comes: let us salute him.

Enter Usurer.

God speed, sir: may a man abuse your patience upon a pawn?
Usurer. Friend, let me see it.
Alc. Ecce signum! a fair doublet and hose, new-bought out of the
pilferer's shop, [and] a handsome cloak.
Usurer. How were they gotten?
Thras. How catch the fishermen fish? Master, take them as you think
them worth: we leave all to your conscience.
Usurer. Honest men, toward men, good men, my friends, like to prove
good members, use me, command me; I will maintain your credits. There's money:
now spend not your time in idleness; bring me commodity; I have crowns for you:
there is two shillings for thee, and six shillings for thee.
[Gives money.
Alc. A bargain.—Now, Samia, have at it for a new smock!—Come,
let us to the spring of the best liquor: whilst this lasts, trillill!
Usurer. Good fellows, proper fellows, my companions, farewell: I have a
pot for you.
Sam. [aside.] If he could spare it.

Enter JONAS.

Jonas. Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!
The day of horror and of torment comes;
When greedy hearts shall glutted be with fire,
Whenas corruptions veil'd shall be unmask'd,
When briberies shall be repaid with bane,
When whoredoms shall be recompens'd in hell,
When riot shall with rigour be rewarded,
Whenas neglect of truth, contempt of God,
Disdain of poor men, fatherless, and sick,
Shall be rewarded with a bitter plague.
Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!
The Lord hath spoke, and I do cry it out;
There are as yet but forty days remaining,
And then shall Nineveh be overthrown:
Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!
There are as yet but forty days remaining,
And then shall Nineveh be overthrown.
[Exit.
Usurer. Confus'd in thought, O, whither shall I wend?
[Exit.
Thras. My conscience cries, that I have done amiss.
[Exit.
Alc. O God of heaven, 'gainst thee have I offended!
Sam. Asham'd of my misdeeds, where shall I hide me?
Oles. Father, methinks this word "repent" is good:
He that [doth] punish disobedience
Doth hold a scourge for every privy fault.
[Exit with ALCON and SAMIA.
Oseas. Look, London, look; with inward eyes behold
What lessons the events do here unfold.
Sin grown to pride, to misery is thrall:
The warning-bell is rung, beware to fall.
Ye worldly men, whom wealth doth lift on high,
Beware and fear, for worldly men must die.
The time shall come, where least suspect remains,
The sword shall light upon the wisest brains;
The head that deems to overtop the sky,
Shall perish in his human policy.
Lo, I have said, when I have said the truth,
When will is law, when folly guideth youth,
When show of zeal is prank'd in robes of zeal,
When ministers powl the pride of common-weal,
When law is made a labyrinth of strife,
When honour yields him friend to wicked life,
When princes hear by others' ears their folly,
When usury is most accounted holy,
If these shall hap, as would to God they might not,
The plague is near: I speak, although I write not.

Enter the Angel.

Angel. Oseas.
Oseas. Lord?
Angel. Now hath thine eye perus'd these heinous sins,
Hateful unto the mighty Lord of hosts.
The time is come, their sins are waxen ripe,
And though the Lord forewarns, yet they repent not;
Custom of sin hath harden'd all their hearts.
Now comes revenge, armèd with mighty plagues,
To punish all that live in Nineveh;
For God is just as he is merciful,
And doubtless plagues all such as scorn repent.
Thou shalt not see the desolation
That falls unto these cursèd Ninevites,
But shalt return to great Jerusalem,
And preach unto the people of thy God
What mighty plagues are incident to sin,
Unless repentance mitigate his ire:
Rapt in the spirit, as thou wert hither brought,
I'll seat thee in Judæa's provinces.
Fear not, Oseas, then to preach the word.
Oseas. The will of the Lord be done!
[OSEAS is taken away by the Angel.

Enter RASNI with his Kings, Magi, Lords, and Attendants; ALVIDA
and her Ladies; to a banquet.

Rasni. So, viceroys, you have pleas'd me passing well;

These curious cates are gracious in mine eye,
But these borachios of the richest wine
Make me to think how blithesome we will be.—
Seat thee, fair Juno, in the royal throne,
And I will serve thee to see thy face,
That, feeding on the beauty of thy looks,
My stomach and mine eyes may both be fill'd.—
Come, lordings, seat you, fellow-mates at feast,
And frolic, wags; this is a day of glee:
This banquet is for brightsome Alvida.
I'll have them skink my standing-bowls with wine,
And no man drink but quaff a whole carouse
Unto the health of beauteous Alvida:
For whoso riseth from this feast not drunk,
As I am Rasni, Nineveh's great king,
Shall die the death as traitor to myself,
For that he scorns the health of Alvida.
K. of Cil. That will I never do, my lord,
Therefore with favour, fortune to your grace,
Carouse unto the health of Alvida.
Rasni. Gramercy, lording, here I take thy pledge:—
And, Crete, to thee a bowl of Greekish wine,
Here to the health of Alvida.
K. of Crete. Let come, my lord.—Jack skinker, fill it full;
A pledge unto the health of heavenly Alvida.
Rasni. Vassals, attendant on our royal feast,
Drink you, I say, unto my lover's health:
Let none that is in Rasni's royal court
Go this night safe and sober to his bed.

Enter ADAM.

Adam. This way he is, and here will I speak with him.
First Lord. Fellow, whither pressest thou?
Adam. I press nobody, sir; I am going to speak with a friend of mine.
First Lord. Why, slave, here is none but the king, and his viceroys.
Adam. The king! marry, sir, he is the man I would speak withal.
First Lord. Why, callest him a friend of thine?
Adam. Ay, marry do I, sir; for if he be not my friend, I'll make him my
friend, ere he and I pass.
First Lord. Away, vassal, be gone! thou speak unto the king!
Adam. Ay, marry, will I, sir; an if he were a king of velvet, I will
talk to him.
Rasni. What is the matter there? what noise is that?
Adam. A boon, my liege, a boon, my liege!
Rasni. What is it that great Rasni will not grant,
This day, unto the meanest of his land,
In honour of his beauteous Alvida?
Come hither, swain; what is it that thou cravest?
Adam. Faith, sir, nothing, but to speak a few sentences to your
worship.
Rasni. Say, what is it?
Adam. I am sure, sir, you have heard of the spirits that walk in the
city here.
Rasni. Ay, what of that?
Adam. Truly, sir, I have an oration to tell you of one of them; and
this it is.
Alv. Why goest not forward with thy tale?
Adam. Faith, mistress, I feel an imperfection in my voice, a disease
that often troubles me; but, alas, easily mended; a cup of ale or a cup of wine
will serve the turn.
Alv. Fill him a bowl, and let him want no drink.
Adam. O, what a precious word was that, "And let him want no drink"!
[Drink given to ADAM.] Well, sir, now I'll tell you forth my tale. Sir, as I
was coming alongst the port-royal of Nineveh, there appeared to me a great
devil, and as hard-favoured a devil as ever I saw; nay, sir, he was a cuckoldly
devil, for he had horns on his head. This devil, mark you now, presseth upon me,
and, sir, indeed I charged him with my pike-staff; but when that would not
serve, I came upon him with Spritus santus,—why, it had been able to
have put Lucifer out of his wits: when I saw my charm would not serve, I was in
such a perplexity, that sixpenny-worth of juniper would not have made the place
sweet again.
Alv. Why, fellow, wert thou so afraid?
Adam. O mistress, had you been there and seen, his very sight had made
you shift a clean smock! I promise you, though I were a man, and counted a tall
fellow, yet my laundress called me slovenly knave the next day.
Rasni. A pleasant slave.—Forward, sirrah, on with thy tale.
Adam. Faith, sir, but I remember a word that my mistress your bed-
fellow spoke.
Rasni. What was that, fellow?
Adam. O, sir, a word of comfort, a precious word—"And let him want
no drink."
Rasni. Her word is law; and thou shalt want no drink.
[Drink given to ADAM.
Adam. Then, sir, this devil came upon me, and would not be persuaded,
but he would needs carry me to hell. I proffered him a cup of ale, thinking,
because he came out of so hot a place, that he was thirsty; but the devil was
not dry, and therefore the more sorry was I. Well, there was no remedy, but I
must with him to hell: and at last I cast mine eye aside; if you knew what I
spied, you would laugh, sir; I looked from top to toe, and he had no cloven
feet. Then I ruffled up my hair, and set my cap on the one side, and, sir, grew
to be a justice of peace to the devil: at last in a great fume, as I am very
choleric, and sometimes so hot in my fustian fumes that no man can abide within
twenty yards of me, I start up, and so bombasted the devil, that, sir, he cried
out and ran away.
Alv. This pleasant knave hath made me laugh my fill.
Rasni, now Alvida begins her quaff,
And drinks a full carouse unto her king.
Rasni. A pledge, my love, as hearty as great Jove
Drunk when his Juno heav'd a bowl to him.—
Frolic, my lords; let all the standards walk;
Ply it, till every man hath ta'en his load.—
How now, sirrah, what cheer? we have no words of you.
Adam. Truly, sir, I was in a brown study about my mistress.
Alv. About me! for what?
Adam. Truly, mistress, to think what a golden sentence you did speak;
all the philosophers in the world could not have said more;—"What, come,
let him want no drink." O, wise speech!
Alv. Villains, why skink you not unto this fellow?
He makes me blithe and merry in my thoughts:
Heard you not that the king hath given command,
That all be drunk this day within his court
In quaffing to the health of Alvida?
[Drink given to ADAM.

Enter JONAS.

Jonas. Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!
The Lord hath spoke, and I do cry it out,
There are as yet but forty days remaining,
And then shall Nineveh be overthrown:
Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!
Rasni. What fellow's this, that thus disturbs our feast
With outcries and alarums to repent?
Adam. O, sir, 'tis one Goodman Jonas, that is come from Jericho; and
surely I think he hath seen some spirit by the way, and is fallen out of his
wits, for he never leaves crying night nor day. My master heard him, and he shut
up his shop, gave me my indenture, and he and his wife do nothing but fast and
pray.
Jonas. Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!
Rasni. Come hither, fellow: what art, and from whence comest thou?
Jonas. Rasni, I am a prophet of the Lord,
Sent hither by the mighty God of hosts
To cry destruction to the Ninevites.
O Nineveh, thou harlot of the world,
I raise thy neighbours round about thy bounds,
To come and see thy filthiness and sin!
Thus saith the Lord, the mighty God of hosts:
Your king loves chambering and wantonness,
Whoredom and murder do distain his court,
He favoureth covetous and drunken men;
Behold, therefóre, all like a strumpet foul,
Thou shalt be judg'd, and punish'd for thy crime;
The foe shall pierce the gates with iron ramps,
The fire shall quite consume thee from above,
The houses shall be burnt, the infants slain,
And women shall behold their husbands die.
Thine eldest sister is Lamana,
And Sodom on thy right hand seated is.
Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!
The Lord hath spoke, and I do cry it out,
There are as yet but forty days remaining,
And then shall Nineveh be overthrown.
[Offers to depart.
Rasni. Stay, prophet, stay.
Jonas. Disturb not him that sent me;
Let me perform the message of the Lord.
[Exit.
Rasni. My soul is buried in the hell of thoughts.—
Ah, Alvida, I look on thee with shame!—
My lords on sudden fix their eyes on ground,
As if dismay'd to look upon the heavens.—
Hence, Magi, who have flatter'd me in sin!
[Exeunt Magi.
Horror of mind, disturbance of my soul,
Make me aghast for Nineveh's mishap.
Lords, see proclaim'd, yea, see it straight proclaim'd,
That man and beast, the woman and her child,
For forty days in sack and ashes fast:
Perhaps the Lord will yield, and pity us.—
Bear hence these wretched blandishments of sin,
[Taking off his crown and robe.
And bring me sackcloth to attire your king:
Away with pomp! my soul is full of woe.—
In pity look on Nineveh, O God!
[Exeunt all except ALVIDA and Ladies.
Alv. Assail'd with shame, with horror overborne,
To sorrow sold, all guilty of our sin,
Come, ladies, come, let us prepare to pray.
Alas, how dare we look on heavenly light,
That have despis'd the maker of the same?
How may we hope for mercy from above,
That still despis['d] the warnings from above?
Woes me, my conscience is a heavy foe.
O patron of the poor oppress'd with sin,
Look, look on me that now for pity crave!
Assail'd with shame, with horror overborne,
To sorrow sold, all guilty of our sin,
Come, ladies, come, let us prepare to pray.
[Exeunt.
Enter the Usurer, with a halter in one hand, a dagger in the other.
Usurer. Groaning in conscience, burden'd with my crimes,
The hell of sorrow haunts me up and down.
Tread where I list, methinks the bleeding ghosts
Of those whom my corruption brought to naughts,
Do serve for stumbling-blocks before my steps;
The fatherless and widow wrong'd by me,
The poor oppressèd by my usury;
Methinks I see their hands rear'd up to heaven,
To cry for vengeance of my covetousness.
Whereso I walk, all sigh and shun my way;
Thus am I made a monster of the world:
Hell gapes for me, heaven will not hold my soul.
You mountains, shroud me from the God of truth:
Methinks I see him sit to judge the earth;
See how he blots me out o' the book of life!
O burden, more than Ætna, that I bear!
Cover me, hills, and shroud me from the Lord;
Swallow me, Lycus, shield me from the Lord.
In life no peace: each murmuring that I hear,
Methinks, the sentence of damnation sounds,
"Die, reprobate, and hie thee hence to hell."
[The Evil Angel tempts him, offering the knife and rope.
What fiend is this that tempts me to the death?
What, is my death the harbour of my rest?
Then let me die:—what second charge is this?
Methinks I hear a voice amidst mine ears,
That bids me stay, and tells me that the Lord
Is merciful to those that do repent.
May I repent? O thou, my doubtful soul,
Thou mayst repent, the judge is merciful!
Hence, tools of wrath, stales of temptation!
For I will pray and sigh unto the Lord;
In sackcloth will I sigh, and fasting pray:
O Lord, in rigour look not on my sins!
[Sits down in sackcloth, his hands and eyes reared to heaven.

Enter ALVIDA and her Ladies, with dispersed locks, and in sackcloth.

Alv. Come, mournful dames, lay off your broider'd locks,
And on your shoulders spread dispersèd hairs:
Let voice of music cease where sorrow dwells:
Clothèd in sackcloth, sigh your sins with me;
Bemoan your pride, bewail your lawless lusts;
With fasting mortify your pamper'd loins;
O, think upon the horror of your sins,
Think, think with me, the burden of your blames!
Woe to thy pomp, false beauty, fading flower,
Blasted by age, by sickness, and by death!
Woe to our painted cheeks, our curious oils,
Our rich array, that foster'd us in sin!
Woe to our idle thoughts, that wound our souls!
O, would to God all nations might receive
A good example by our grievous fall!
First Lady. You that are planted there where pleasure dwells,
And think your pomp as great as Nineveh's,
May fall for sin as Nineveh doth now.
Alv. Mourn, mourn, let moan be all your melody,
And pray with me, and I will pray for all:—
O Lord of heaven, forgive us our misdeeds!
Ladies. O Lord of heaven, forgive us our misdeeds!
Usurer. O Lord of light, forgive me my misdeeds!

Enter RASNI, with his Kings, and Lords, in sackcloth.


K. of Cil. Be not so overcome with grief, O king,
Lest you endanger life by sorrowing so.
Rasni. King of Cilicia, should I cease my grief,
Whereas my swarming sins afflict my soul?
Vain man, know this, my burden greater is
Than every private subject's in my land.
My life hath been a load-star unto them,
To guide them in the labyrinth of blame:
Thus I have taught them for to do amiss;
Then must I weep, my friend, for their amiss.
The fall of Nineveh is wrought by me:
I have maintain'd this city in her shame;
I have contemn'd the warnings from above;
I have upholden incest, rape, and spoil;
'Tis I that wrought the sin must weep the sin.
O, had I tears, like to the silver streams
That from the Alpine mountains sweetly stream,

Or had I sighs, the treasures of remorse,
As plentiful as Æolus hath blasts,
I then would tempt the heavens with my laments,
And pierce the throne of mercy by my sighs!
K. of Cil. Heavens are propitious unto faithful prayers.
Rasni. But after our repent, we must lament,
Lest that a worser mischief doth befall.
O, pray: perhaps the Lord will pity us.—
O God of truth, both merciful and just,
Behold repentant men, with piteous eyes!
We wail the life that we have led before:
O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh!
All. O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh!
Rasni. Let not the infants, dallying on the teat,
For fathers' sins in judgment be oppress'd!
K. of Cil. Let not the painful mothers big with child,
The innocents, be punish'd for our sin!
Rasni. O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh!
All. O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh!
Rasni. O Lord of heaven, the virgins weep to thee!
The covetous man sorry for his sin,
The prince and poor, all pray before thy throne;
And wilt thou, then, be wroth with Nineveh?
K. of Cil. Give truce to prayer, O king, and rest a space.
Rasni. Give truce to prayers, when times require no truce!
No, princes, no. Let all our subjects hie
Unto our temples, where, on humbled knees,
I will expect some mercy from above.
[They all enter the temple.

Enters JONAS.

Jonas. This is the day wherein the Lord hath said
That Nineveh shall quite be overthrown;
This is the day of horror and mishap,
Fatal unto the cursèd Ninevites.
These stately towers shall in thy watery bounds,
Swift-flowing Lycus, find their burials:
These palaces, the pride of Assur's kings,
Shall be the bowers of desolation,
Whereas the solitary bird shall sing,
And tigers train their young ones to their nest.
O all ye nations bounded by the west,
Ye happy isles, where prophets do abound,
Ye cities famous in the western world,
Make Nineveh a precedent for you!
Leave lewd desires, leave covetous delights,
Fly usury, let whoredom be exil'd,
Lest you with Nineveh be overthrown.
Lo, how the sun's inflamèd torch prevails,
Scorching the parchèd furrows of the earth!
Here will I sit me down, and fix mine eye
Upon the ruins of you wretched town:
And, lo, a pleasant shade, a spreading vine,
To shelter Jonas in this sunny heat!
What means my God? the day is done and spent:
Lord, shall my prophecy be brought to naught?
When falls the fire? when will the judge be wroth?
I pray thee, Lord, remember what I said,
When I was yet within my country-land:
Jehovah is too merciful, I fear.
O, let me fly, before a prophet fault!
For thou art merciful, the Lord my God,
Full of compassion, and of sufferance,
And dost repent in taking punishment.
Why stays thy hand? O Lord, first take my life,
Before my prophecy be brought to naught!
Ah, he is wroth! behold, the gladsome vine,
[A serpent devoureth the vine.
That did defend me from the sunny heat,
Is wither'd quite, and swallow'd by a serpent!
Now furious Phlegon triumphs on my brows,
And heat prevails, and I am faint in heart.

Enter the Angel.

Angel. Art thou so angry, Jonas? tell me why.
Jonas. Jehovah, I with burning heat am plung'd,
And shadow'd only by a silly vine;
Behold, a serpent hath devourèd it:
And, lo, the sun, incens'd by eastern wind,
Afflicts me with canicular aspéct.
Would God that I might die! for, well I wot,
'Twere better I were dead than rest alive.
Angel. Jonas, art thou so angry for the vine?
Jonas. Yea, I am angry to the death, my God.
Angel. Thou hast compassion, Jonas, on a vine,
On which thou never labour didst bestow;
Thou never gav'st it life or power to grow,
But suddenly it sprung, and suddenly died:
And should not I have great compassion
On Nineveh, the city of the world,
Wherein there are a hundred thousand souls,
And twenty thousand infants that ne wot
The right hand from the left, beside much cattle?
O Jonas, look into their temples now,
And see the true contrition of their king,
The subjects' tears, the sinners' true remorse!
Then from the Lord proclaim a mercy-day,
For he is pitiful as he is just.
Jonas. I go, my God, to finish thy command.
[Exit Angel.
O, who can tell the wonders of my God,
Or talk his praises with a fervent tongue?
He bringeth down to hell, and lifts to heaven;
He draws the yoke of bondage from the just,
And looks upon the heathen with piteous eyes:
To him all praise and honour be ascrib'd.
O, who can tell the wonders of my God?
He makes the infant to proclaim his truth,
The ass to speak to save the prophet's life,
The earth and sea to yield increase for man.
Who can describe the compass of his power,
Or testify in terms his endless might?
My ravish'd sprite, O, whither dost thou wend?
Go and proclaim the mercy of my God;
Relieve the careful-hearted Ninevites;
And, as thou wert the messenger of death,
Go bring glad tidings of recover'd grace.
[Exit.

Enter ADAM.

Adam. Well, Goodman Jonas, I would you had never come from Jewry to
this country; you have made me look like a lean rib of roast beef, or like the
picture of Lent painted upon a red-herring-cob. Alas, masters, we are commanded
by the proclamation to fast and pray! by my troth, I could prettily so-so away
with praying; but for fasting, why, 'tis so contrary to my nature that I had
rather suffer a short hanging than a long fasting. Mark me, the words be these,
"Thou shalt take no manner of food for so many days." I had as lief he should
have said, "Thou shalt hang thyself for so many days." And yet, in faith, I need
not find fault with the proclamation, for I have a buttery and a pantry and a
kitchen about me; for proof, ecce signum! This right slop is my pantry,
behold a manchet [Draws it out]; this place is my kitchen, for, lo, a piece
of beef [Draws it out],—O, let me repeat that sweet word again! for,
lo, a piece of beef. This is my buttery, for, see, see, my friends, to my great
joy, a bottle of beer [Draws it out]. Thus, alas, I make shift to wear out
this fasting; I drive away the time. But there go searchers about to seek if any
man breaks the king's command. O, here they be; in with your victuals, Adam.
[Puts them back into his slops.

Enter two Searchers.

First Search. How duly the men of Nineveh keep the proclamation! how
are they armed to repentance! We have searched through the whole city, and have
not as yet found one that breaks the fast.
Sec. Search. The sign of the more grace:—but stay, here sits one,
methinks, at his prayers; let us see who it is.
First Search. 'Tis Adam, the smith's man.—How now, Adam!
Adam. Trouble me not; "Thou shalt take no manner of food, but fast and
pray."
First Search. How devoutly he sits at his orisons! but stay, methinks I
feel a smell of some meat or bread about him.
Sec. Search. So thinks me too.—You, sirrah, what victuals have you
about you?
Adam. Victuals! O horrible blasphemy! Hinder me not of my prayer, nor
drive me not into a choler. Victuals! why heardest thou not the sentence, "Thou
shalt take no food, but fast and pray"?
Sec. Search. Truth, so it should be; but, methinks, I smell meat about
thee.
Adam. About me, my friends! these words are actions in the case. About
me! no, no, hang those gluttons that cannot fast and pray.
First Search. Well, for all your words, we must search you.

Adam. Search me! take heed what you do; my hose are my castles, 'tis
burglary if you break ope a slop: no officer must lift up an iron hatch; take
heed, my slops are iron.
[They search ADAM.
Sec. Search. O villain!—See how he hath gotten victuals, bread,
beef, and beer, where the king commanded upon pain of death none should eat for
so many days, no, not the sucking infant!
Adam. Alas, sir, this is nothing but a modicum non nocet ut medicus
daret; why, sir, a bit to comfort my stomach.
First Search. Villain, thou shalt be hanged for it.
Adam. These are your words, "I shall be hanged for it;" but first
answer me to this question, how many days have we to fast still?
Sec. Search. Five days.
Adam. Five days! a long time: then I must be hanged?
First Search. Ay, marry, must thou.
Adam. I am your man, I am for you, sir, for I had rather be hanged than
abide so long a fast. What, five days! Come, I'll untruss. Is your halter, and
the gallows, the ladder, and all such furniture in readiness?
First Search. I warrant thee, shalt want none of these.
Adam. But hear you, must I be hanged?
First Search. Ay, marry.
Adam. And for eating of meat. Then, friends, know ye by these presents,
I will eat up all my meat, and drink up all my drink, for it shall never be
said, I was hanged with an empty stomach.
First Search. Come away, knave: wilt thou stand feeding now?
Adam. If you be so hasty, hang yourself an hour, while I come to you,
for surely I will eat up my meat.
Sec. Search. Come, let's draw him away perforce.
Adam. You say there is five days yet to fast these are your words?
Sec. Search. Ay, sir.
Adam. I am for you: come, let's away, and yet let me be put in the
Chronicles.
[Exeunt.

Enter JONAS, RASNI with his Kings and Lords, ALVIDA with her
Ladies, and Attendants.

Jonas. Come, careful king, cast off thy mournful weeds,
Exchange thy cloudy looks to smoothèd smiles;
Thy tears have pierc'd the piteous throne of grace,
Thy sighs, like incense pleasing to the Lord,
Have been peace-offerings for thy former pride:
Rejoice, and praise his name that gave thee peace.
And you, fair nymphs, ye lovely Ninevites,
Since you have wept and fasted 'for[e] the Lord,
He graciously hath temper'd his revenge:
Beware henceforth to tempt him any more:
Let not the niceness of your beauteous looks
Engraft in you a high-presuming mind;
For those that climb he casteth to the ground,
And they that humble be he lifts aloft.
Rasni. Lowly I bend, with awful bent of eye,
Before the dread Jehovah, God of hosts,
Despising all profane device of man.
Those lustful lures, that whilom led awry
My wanton eyes, shall wound my heart no more;
And she, whose youth in dalliance I abus'd,
Shall now at last become my wedlock-mate.—
Fair Alvida, look not so wo-begone;
If for thy sin thy sorrow do exceed,
Blessèd be thou: come, with a holy band
Let's knit a knot to salve our former shame.
Alv. With blushing looks, betokening my remorse,
I lowly yield, my king, to thy behest,
So as this man of God shall think it good.
Jonas. Woman, amends may never come too late;
A will to practise good is virtuous:
The God of heaven, when sinners do repent,
Doth more rejoice than in ten thousand just.
Rasni. Then witness, holy prophet, our accord.
Alv. Plight in the presence of the Lord thy God.
Jonas. Blest may you be, like to the flowering sheaves
That play with gentle winds in summer-tide;
Like olive-branches let your children spread,
And as the pines in lofty Lebanon,
Or as the kids that feed on Lepher plains,
So be the seed and offspring of your loins!

Enter the Usurer, THRASYBULUS, and ALCON.

Usurer. Come forth, my friends, whom wittingly I wrong'd:
Before this man of God receive your due;
Before our king I mean to make my peace.—
Jonas, behold, in sign of my remorse,
I here restore into these poor men's hands
Their goods which I unjustly have detain'd;
And may the heavens so pardon my misdeeds
As I am penitent for my offence!
Thras. And what through want from others I purloin'd,
Behold, O king, I proffer 'fore thy throne,
To be restor'd to such as owe the same.
Jonas. A virtuous deed, pleasing to God and man.
Would God, all cities drownèd in like shame
Would take example of these Ninevites!
Rasni. Such be the fruits of Nineveh's repent;
And such for ever may our dealings be,
That he that call'd us home in height of sin
May smile to see our hearty penitence.—
Viceroys, proclaim a fast unto the Lord;
Let Israel's God be honour'd in our land;
Let all occasion of corruption die,
For who shall fault therein shall suffer death:—
Bear witness, God, of my unfeignèd zeal.—
Come, holy man, as thou shalt counsel me,
My court and city shall reformèd be.
Jonas. Wend on in peace, and prosecute this course.
[Exeunt all except JONAS.
You islanders, on whom the milder air
Doth sweetly breathe the balm of kind increase,
Whose lands are fatten'd with the dew of heaven,
And made more fruitful than Actæan plains;
You whom delicious pleasures dandle soft,
Whose eyes are blinded with security,
Unmask yourselves, cast error clean aside.
O London, maiden of the mistress-isle,
Wrapt in the folds and swathing-clouts of shame,
In thee more sins than Nineveh contains!
Contempt of God, despite of reverend age,
Neglect of law, desire to wrong the poor,
Corruption, whoredom, drunkenness, and pride.
Swoln are thy brows with impudence and shame,
O proud adulterous glory of the west!
Thy neighbours burn, yet dost thou fear no fire;
Thy preachers cry, yet dost thou stop thine ears;
The 'larum rings, yet sleepest thou secure.
London, awake, for fear the Lord do frown:
I set a looking-glass before thine eyes.
O, turn, O, turn, with weeping to the Lord,
And think the prayers and virtues of thy Queen
Defer the plague which otherwise would fall!
Repent, O London! lest, for thine offence,
Thy shepherd fail, whom mighty God preserve,
That she may bide the pillar of his church
Against the storms of Romish Anti-Christ!
The hand of mercy overshade her head,
And let all faithful subjects say, Amen!





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