SCENE II.--_A Street near the Temple.

_Enter the_ Usurer, _with a halter in one hand, a dagger in the other._[121]

_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 naught 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[122] 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! [_He sits down in sackcloth, his hands and eyes reared to heaven._

_Enter_ ALVIDA _with her_ Ladies, _with dispersed locks._

_Alvi._ 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.

_Alvi._ 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 loadstar 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 we 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 sore 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._