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[107] 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.
[The Angel departs.
Jonas. Jehovah, I am prest[108] to do thy will.—
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.
SCENE III.—The Garden of Rasni's Palace.
Enter Alvida in rich attire, with the King of Cilicia, and her Ladies.
Alvi. 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.
Alvi. 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.
Alvi. 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.
Alvi. 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.
Alvi. 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.
Alvi. And wilt thou not, then, pity my estate?
K. of Cil. Ask love of them who pity may impart.
Alvi. I ask of thee, sweet; thou hast stole my heart.
K. of Cil. Your love is fixèd on a greater king.
Alvi. 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,[109]
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.
Alvi. Good Lord, how men are coy when they are crav'd!
K. of Cil. Madam, behold our king approacheth nigh.
Alvi. Thou art Endymion, then, no more: heigh-ho, for him I die!
[Faints, 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[110] to maintain my world,
Thy smiles the prime and spring-tide of my world,
Thy frowns the winter to afflict the world,
Thou queen of me, I king of all the world!
[She rises as out of a trance.
Alvi. Ah feeble eyes, lift up and look on him!
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.
Alvi. 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 loath to blend[111] 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?