He raves.
Nay, he foretold these happenings. A sage is he, and a prophet.
Jeremiah
Why should the king accuse me? A greater power than mine constrained my utterance. I was the tool of the pitiless one, his breath, the slave of his malice. He commanded, and I had to obey, for his strength is greater than mine. He breathed curses into my breath. His was the gall in my speech, his the bitterness in my spittle. Woe upon the hands of God; whom he seizes, shall not again be loosed. Ah, would he but set me free from his curse, that no longer I might have to speak his words. [A pause] No longer will I speak his words. I will hold my peace. [A pause] God! No longer will I obey thy behests. I curse thy curses. Lift thy hand from me, take the fire from my mouth. No more can I bear.
Voices
He is in a frenzy.—Look how convulsions rack him.—He is twisted with pain like a woman in labour.—Heed not his words.—God has punished him.
[Jeremiah sinks to the ground broken]
Look, look, the hand of the Lord hath fallen upon him.—Go not near him whom God hath banned.
[They draw farther away from Jeremiah and huddle together. Jeremiah lies like a felled tree. For a few moments there is a hush of despair. This silence is broken by the sound of a distant trumpet]