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[112] of our gods,
Our mighty gods, the patrons of our war,
The ghosts of dead men howling walk about,
Crying "Væ, Væ, woe to this city, woe!"
The statues of our gods are thrown down,
And streams of blood our altars do distain.
Alvi. [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 naught!
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?
SCENE IV.—A Public Place in Nineveh.
Enter one clad in Devil's attire.
Devil. 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 to-morrow 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!