-ed.> Of Israel's sweetest singer now I sing, His holy style and happy victories; Whose Muse was dipped in that inspiring dew Arch-angels stilled from the breath of Jove, Decking her temples with the glorious flowers Heavens rained on tops of Sion and Mount Sinai. Upon the bosom of his ivory lute The cherubins and angels laid their breasts; And, when his consecrated fingers struck The golden wires of his ravishing harp, He gave alarum to the host of heaven, That, winged with lightning, brake the clouds, and cast Their crystal armor at his conquering feet. Of this sweet poet, Jove's musician, And of his beauteous son, I press to sing. Then help, divine Adonai, to conduct Upon the wings of my well-tempered verse The hearers' minds above the towers of heaven, And guide them so in this thrice-haughty flight, Their mounting feathers scorch not with the fire That none can temper but thy holy hand: To thee for succor flies my feeble Muse, And at thy feet her iron pen doth use. Hot sun, cool fire, tempered with sweet air, Black shade, fair nurse, shadow my white hair: Shine, sun; burn, fire; breathe, air, and ease me; Black shade, fair nurse, shroud me, and please me: Shadow, my sweet nurse, keep me from burning, Make not my glad cause cause of [my] mourning. {Let not my beauty's fire Inflame unstaid desire, Nor pierce any bright eye That wandereth lightly.} Come, gentle Zephyr, tricked with those perfumes That erst in Eden sweetened Adam's love, And stroke my bosom with thy silken fan: This shade, sun-proof, is yet no proof for thee; Thy body, smoother than this waveless spring, And purer than the substance of the same, Can creep through that his lances cannot pierce: Thou, and thy sister, soft and sacred Air, Goddess of life, and governess of health, Keep every fountain fresh and arbor sweet; No brazen gate her passage can repulse, Nor bushy thicket bar thy subtle breath: Then deck thee with thy loose delightsome robes, And on thy wings bring delicate perfumes, To play the wanton with us through the leaves. What tunes, what words, what looks, what wonders pierce My soul, incensed with a sudden fire? What tree, what shade, what spring, what paradise, Enjoys the beauty of so fair a dame? Fair Eva, placed in perfect happiness, Lending her praise-notes to the liberal heavens, Struck with the accents of arch-angels' tunes, Wrought not more pleasure to her husband's thoughts Than this fair woman's words and notes to mine. May that sweet plain that bears her pleasant weight Be still enamelled with discolored flowers; That precious fount bear sand of purest gold; And, for the pebble, let the silver streams That pierce earth's bowels to maintain the source, Play upon rubies, sapphires, chrysolites; The brims let be embraced with golden curls Of moss that sleeps with sound the waters make For joy to feed the fount with their recourse; Let all the grass that beautifies her bower Bear manna every morn instead of dew, Or let the dew be sweeter far than that That hangs, like chains of pearl, on Hermon hill, Or balm which trickled from old Aaron's beard.-- Cusay, come up, and serve thy lord the king. What service doth my lord the king command? See;Cusay, see the flower of Israel, The fairest daughter that obeys the king In all the land the Lord subdued to me; Fairer than Isaac's lover at the well, Brighter than inside-bark of new-hewn cedar, Sweeter than flames of fine-perfumed myrrh, And comelier than the silver clouds that dance On Zephyr's wings before the King of Heaven. Is it not Bethsabe the Hethite's wife, Urias, now at Rabbah siege with Joab? Go know, and bring her quickly to the king; Tell her, her graces have found grace with him. {I will, my lord.} <[Exit.> Bright Bethsabe shall wash, in David's bower, In water mixed with purest almond-flower, And bathe her beauty in the milk of kids: Bright Bethsabe gives earth to my desires; Verdure to earth; and to that verdure flowers; To flowers sweet odors; and to odors wings That carry pleasures to the hearts of kings. Fair Bethsabe, the King of Israel From forth his princely tower hath seen thee bathe; And thy sweet graces have found grace with him: Come, then, and kneel unto him where he stands; The king is gracious, and hath liberal hands. Ah, what is Bethsabe to please the king? Or what is David, that he should desire, For fickle beauty's sake, his servant's wife? David, thou know'st, fair dame, is wise and just, Elected to the heart of Israel's God; Then do not thou expostulate with him For any action that contents his soul. My lord the king, elect to God's own heart, Should not his gracious jealousy incense Whose thoughts are chaste: I hate incontinence. Woman, thou wrong'st the king, and doubt'st his honor Whose truth maintains the crown of Israel, Making him stay that bade me bring thee straight. The king's poor handmaid will obey my lord. Then come, and do thy duty to his grace; And do what seemeth favor in his sight. <[Exit, below, with Bethsabe.> Now comes my lover tripping like the roe, And brings my longings tangled in her hair. To joy her love I'll build a kingly bower, Seated in hearing of a hundred streams, That, for their homage to her sovereign joys, Shall, as the serpents fold into their nests In oblique turnings, wind their nimble waves About the circles of her curious walks; And with their murmur summon easeful sleep To lay his golden sceptre on her brows.-- Open the doors, and entertain my love; Open, I say, and, as you open, sing, Welcome, fair Bethsabe, King David's darling. Welcome, fair Bethsabe, King David's darling. Thy bones' fair covering, erst discovered fair, And all mine eyes' with all thy beauties pierced: As heaven's bright eye burns most when most he climbs The crooked zodiac with his fiery sphere, And shineth furthest from this earthly globe; So, since thy beauty scorched my conquered soul, I called thee nearer for my nearer cure. Too near, my lord, was your unarmed heart When furthest off my hapless beauty pierced; And would this dreary day had turned to night, Or that some pitchy cloud had cloaked the sun, Before their lights had caused my lord to see His name disparaged and my chastity! My love, if want of love have left thy soul A sharper sense of honor than thy king, (For love leads princes sometimes from their seats,) As erst my heart was hurt, displeasing thee, So come and taste thy ease with easing me. One medicine cannot heal our different harms; But rather make both rankle at the bone: Then let the king be cunning in his cure, Lest flattering both, both perish in his hand. Leave it to me, my dearest Bethsabe, Whose skill is conversant in deeper cures.-- And, Cusay, haste thou to my servant Joab, Commanding him to send Urias home With all the speed can possibly be used. Cusay will fly about the king's desire. <[Exeunt.> Courage, ye mighty men of Israel, And charge your fatal instruments of war Upon the bosoms of proud Ammon's sons, That have disguised your king's ambassadors, Cut half their beards and half their garments off, In spite of Israel and his daughters' sons! Ye fight the holy battles of Jehovah, King David's God, and ours, and Jacob's God, That guides your weapons to their conquering strokes, Orders your footsteps, and directs your thoughts To stratagems that harbor victory: He casts his sacred eyesight from on high, And sees your foes run seeking for their deaths, Laughing their labors and their hopes to scorn; While 'twixt your bodies and their blunted swords He puts on armor of his honor's proof, And makes their weapons wound the senseless winds. Before this city Rabbah we will lie, And shoot forth shafts as thick and dangerous As was the hail that Moses mixed with fire, And threw with fury round about the fields, Devouring Pharaoh's friends and Egypt's fruits, First, mighty captains, Joab and Abisai, Let us assault, and scale this kingly tower, Where all their conduits and their fountains are; Then we may easily take the city too. Well hath Urias counselled our attempts; And as he spake us, so assault the tower: Let Hanon now, the king of Ammon's sons, Repulse our conquering passage if he dare. What would the shepherd's-dogs of Israel Snatch from the mighty issue of King Ammon, The valiant Ammonites and haughty Syrians? 'Tis not your late successive victories Can make us yield, or quail our courages; But if ye dare assay to scale this tower, Our angry swords shall smite ye to the ground, And venge our losses on your hateful lives. Hanon, thy father Nahas gave relief To holy David in his hapless exile, Lived his fixed date, and died in peace: But thou, instead of reaping his reward, Hast trod it under foot, and scorned our king; Therefore thy days shall end with violence, And to our swords thy vital blood shall cleave. Hence, thou that bear'st poor Israel's shepherd's-hook, The proud lieutenant of that base-born king, And keep within the compass of his fold; For, if ye seek to feed on Ammon's fruits, And stray into the Syrians' fruitful meads, The mastives of our land shall worry ye, And pull the weasels from your greedy throats. Who can endure these pagans' blasphemies? My soul repines at this disparagement. Assault, ye valiant men of David's host, And beat these railing dastards from their doors. Thus have we won the tower, which we will keep, Maugre the sons of Ammon and of Syria, Where is Lord Joab, leader of the host? Here is Lord Joab, leader of the host. Cusay, come up, for we have won the hold. In happy hour, then, is Cusay come. What news, then, brings Lord Cusay from the king? His majesty commands thee out of hand To send him home Urias from the wars, For matter of some service he should do. 'Tis for no choler hath surprised the king, I hope, Lord Cusay, 'gainst his servant's truth? No; rather to prefer Urias' truth. Here, take him with thee, then, and go in peace; And tell my lord the king that I have fought Against the city Rabbah with success, And scaled where the royal palace is, The conduit-heads and all their sweetest springs: Then let him come in person to these walls, With all the soldiers he can bring besides, And take the city as his own exploit, Lest I surprise it, and the people give The glory of the conquest to my name. We will, Lord Joab; and great Israel's God Bless in thy hands the battles of our king! Farewell, Urias; haste away the king. As sure as Joab breathes a victor here, Urias will haste him and his own return. <[Exeunt Cusay and Urias.> Let us descend, and ope the palace' gate, Taking our soldiers in to keep the hold. Let us, Abisai:--and, ye sons of Judah, Be valiant, and maintain your victory. <[Exeunt> What means my lord, the king's beloved son, That wears upon his right triumphant arm The power of Israel for a royal favor, That holds upon the tables of his hands Banquets of honor and all thought's content, To suffer pale and grisly abstinence To sit and feed upon his fainting cheeks, And suck away the blood that cheers his looks? Ah, Jonadab, it is my sister's looks, On whose sweet beauty I bestow my blood, That make me look so amorously lean; Her beauty having seized upon my heart, So merely consecrate to her content, Sets now such guard about his vital blood, And views the passage with such piercing eyes, That none can scape to cheer my pining cheeks, But all is thought too little for her love. Then from her heart thy looks shall be relieved, And thou shalt joy her as thy soul desires. How can it be, my sweet friend Jonadab, Since Thamar is a virgin and my sister? Thus it shall be: lie down upon thy bed, Feigning thee fever-sick and ill-at-ease; And when the king shall come to visit thee, Desire thy sister Thamar may be sent To dress some dainties for thy malady: Then when thou hast her solely with thyself, Enforce some favor to thy manly love. See where she comes: entreat her in with thee. What aileth Amnon, with such sickly looks To daunt the favor of his lovely face? Sweet Thamar, sick, and wish some wholesome cates Dressed with the cunning of thy dainty hands. That hath the king commanded at my hands: Then come and rest thee, while I make thee ready Some dainties easeful to thy crazed soul. I go, sweet sister, eased with thy sight. <[Exeunt Thamar, Amnon, Jethray, and Page.> Why should a prince, whose power may command, Obey the rebel passions of his love, When they contend but 'gainst his conscience, And may be governed or suppressed by will? Now, Amnon, loose those loving knots of blood, That sucked the courage from thy kingly heart, And give it passage to thy withered cheeks. Now, Thamar, ripened are the holy fruits That grew on plants of thy virginity; And rotten is thy name in Israel: Poor Thamar, little did thy lovely hands Foretell an action of such violence As to contend with Amnon's lusty arms Sinewed with vigor of his kindless love: Fair Thamar, now dishonor hunts thy foot, And follows thee through every covert shade, Discovering thy shame and nakedness, Even from the valleys of Jehosaphat Up to the lofty mounts of Lebanon; Where cedars, stirred with anger of the winds, Sounding in storms the tale of thy disgrace, Tremble with fury, and with murmur shake Earth with their feet and with their heads the heavens, Beating the clouds into their swiftest rack, To bear this wonder round about the world. <[Exit.> Hence from my bed, whose sight offends my soul As doth the parbreak of disgorged bears! Unkind, unprincely, and unmanly Amnon, To force, and then refuse thy sister's love, Adding unto the fright of thy offense The baneful torment of my published shame! O, do not this dishonor to thy love, Nor clog thy soul with such increasing sin! This second evil far exceeds the first. Jethray, come thrust this woman from my sight, And bolt the door upon her if she strive. <[Exit.> Go, madam, go; away; you must be gone; My lord hath done with you: I pray, depart. <[Shuts her out.---Exit.> Whither, alas, ah, whither shall I fly, With folded arms and all-amazed soul? Cast as was Eva from that glorious soil, (Where all delights sat bating, winged with thoughts, Ready to nestle in her naked breasts,) To bare and barren vales with floods made waste, To desert woods, and hills with lightning scorched, With death, with shame, with hell, with horror sit; There will I wander from my father's face; There Absalon, my brother Absalon, Sweet Absalon shall hear his sister mourn; There will I lure with my windy sighs Night-ravens and owls to rend my bloody side, Which with a rusty weapon I will wound, And make them passage to my panting heart. Why talk'st thou, wretch, and leavest the deed undone? Rend hair and garments, as thy heart is rent With inward fury of a thousand griefs, And scatter them by these unhallowed doors, To figure Amnon's resting cruelty, And tragic spoil of Thamar's chastity. What causeth Thamar to exclaim so much? The cause that Thamar shameth to disclose. Say; I thy brother will revenge that cause. Amnon, our father's son, hath forced me, And thrusts me from him as the scorn of Israel. Hath Amnon forced thee? by David's hand, And by the covenant God hath made with him, Amnon shall bear his violence to hell; Traitor to heaven, traitor to David's throne, Traitor to Absalon and Israel. This fact hath Jacob's ruler seen from heaven, And through a cloud of smoke and tower of fire, As he rides vaunting him upon the greens, Shall tear his chariot-wheels with violent winds, And throw his body in the bloody sea; At him the thunder shall discharge his bolt; And his fair spouse, with bright and fiery wings, Sit ever burning on his hateful bones: Myself, as swift as thunder or his spouse, Will hunt occasion with a secret hate, To work false Amnon an ungracious end.-- Go in, my sister; rest thee in my house; And God in time shall take this shame from thee. Nor God nor time will do that good for me. <[Exit.> My Absalon, what mak'st thou here alone, And bear'st such discontentment in thy brows? Great cause hath Absalon to be displeased, And in his heart to shroud the wounds of wrath. 'Gainst whom should Absalon be thus displeased? 'Gainst wicked Amnon, thy ungracious son, My brother and fair Thamar's by the king, My step-brother by mother and by kind: He hath dishonored David's holiness, And fixed a blot of lightness on his throne, Forcing my sister Thamar when he feigned A sickness, sprung from root of heinous lust. Hath Amnon brought this evil on my house, And suffered sin to smite his father's bones? Smite, David, deadlier than the voice of heaven, And let hate's fire be kindled in thy heart: Frame in the arches of thy angry brows, Making thy forehead, like a comet, shine, To force false Amnon tremble at thy looks. Sin, with his sevenfold crown and purple robe, Begins his triumphs in my guilty throne; There sits he watching with his hundred eyes Our idle minutes and our wanton thoughts; And with his baits, made of our frail desires, Gives us the hook that hales our souls to hell: But with the spirit of my kingdom's God I'll thrust the flattering tyrant from his throne, And scourge his bondslaves from my hallowed court With rods of iron and thorns of sharpened steel. Then, Absalon, revenge not thou this sin; Leave it to me, and I will chasten him. I am content: then grant, my lord the king, Himself with all his other lords would come Up to my sheep-feast on the plain of Hazor. Nay, my fair son, myself with all my lords Will bring thee too much charge; yet some shall go. But let my lord the king himself take pains; The time of year is pleasant for your grace, And gladsome summer in her shady robes, Crowned with roses and with painted flowers, With all her nymphs, shall entertain my lord, That, from the thicket of my verdant groves, Will sprinkle honey-dews about his breast, And cast sweet balm upon his kingly head: Then grant thy servant's boon, and go, my lord. Let it content my sweet son Absalon, That I may stay, and take my other lords. But shall thy best-beloved Amnon go? What needeth it, that Amnon go with thee? Yet do thy son and servant so much grace. Amnon shall go, and all my other lords, Because I will give grace to Absalon. Pleaseth my lord the king, his servant Joab Hath sent Urias from the Syrian wars. Welcome, Urias, from the Syrian wars, Welcome to David as his dearest lord. Thanks be to Israel's God and David's grace, Urias finds such greeting with the king. No other greeting shall Urias find As long as David sways th' elected seat And consecrated throne of Israel. Tell me, Urias, of my servant Joab; Fights he with truth the battles of our God, And for the honor of the Lord's anointed? Thy servant Joab fights the chosen wars With truth, with honor, and with high success, And, 'gainst the wicked king of Ammon's sons, Hath, by the finger of our sovereign's God, Besieged the city Rabbah, and achieved The court of waters, where the conduits run, Therefore he willeth David's mightiness Should number out the host of Israel, And come in person to the city Rabbah, That so her conquest may be made the king's, And Joab fight as his inferior. This hath not God and Joab's prowess done Without Urias' valor, I am sure, Who since his true conversion from a Hethite To an adopted son of Israel, Hath fought like one whose arms were lift by heaven, And whose bright sword was edged with Israel's wrath. Go, therefore, home, Urias, take thy rest; Visit thy wife and household with the joys A victor and a favorite of the king's Should exercise with honor after arms. Thy servant's bones are yet not half so crazed, Nor constitute on such a sickly mould, That for so little service he should faint, And seek, as cowards, refuge of his home: Nor are his thoughts so sensually stirred, To stay the arms with which the Lord would smite And fill their circle with his conquered foes, For wanton bosom of a flattering wife. Urias hath a beauteous sober wife, Yet young, and framed of tempting flesh and blood; Then, when the king hath summoned thee from arms, If thou unkindly shouldst refrain her bed, Sin might be laid upon Urias' soul, If Bethsabe by frailty hurt her fame: Then go, Urias, solace in her love; Whom God hath knit to thee, tremble to loose. The king is much too tender of my ease: The ark and Israel and Judah dwell In palaces and rich pavilions; {But Joab and his brother in the fields,} Suffering the wrath of winter and the sun: And shall Urias (of more shame than they) Banquet, and loiter in the work of heaven? {As sure as thy soul doth live, my lord,} Mine ears shall never lean to such delight, When holy labor calls me forth to fight. Then be it with Urias' manly heart As best his fame may shine in Israel. Thus shall Urias' heart be best content, Till thou dismiss me back to Joab's bands: This ground before the king my master's doors Shall be my couch, and this unwearied arm The proper pillow of a soldier's head; For never will I lodge within my house, Till Joab triumph in my secret vows. Then fetch some flagons of our purest wine, That we may welcome home our hardy friend With full carouses to his fortunes past And to the honors of his future arms; Then will I send him back to Rabbah siege, And follow with the strength of Israel. Arise, Urias; come and pledge the king. If David think me worthy such a grace, [ will be bold and pledge my lord the king. Absalon and Cusay both shall drink To good Urias and his happiness. We will, my lord, to please Urias' soul. I will begin, Urias, to thyself, And all the treasure of the Ammonites, Which here I promise to impart to thee, And bind that promise with a full carouse. <[Drinks.]> What seemeth pleasant in my sovereign's eyes, That shall Urias do till he be dead. Fill him the cup. <[U drinks.]>--Follow, ye lords that love Your sovereign's health, and do as he hath done. Ill may he thrive, or live in Israel, That loves not David, or denies his charge.-- Urias here is to Abisai's health, Lord Joab's brother and thy loving friend. <[Drinks.> I pledge Lord Absalon and Abisai's health. <[Drinks.> Here now, Urias, to the health of Joab, And to the pleasant journey we shall have When we return to mighty Rabbah siege. <[Drinks.> Cusay, I pledge thee all with all my heart.-- Give me some drink, ye servants of the king; {Give me my drink.} <[Drinks.> Well done, my good Urias I drink thy fill, That in thy fullness David may rejoice. {I will, my lord.} Now, Lord Urias, one carouse to me. No, sir, I'll drink to the king; Your father is a better man than you. Do so, Urias; I will pledge thee straight, I will indeed, my lord and sovereign; I'll once in my days be so bold. Fill him his glass. {Fill me my glass. Quickly, I say. Quickly, I say.--Here, my lord, by your favor now I drink to you.} I pledge thee, good Urias, presently. Here, then, Urias, once again for me, And to the health of David's children. {David's children!} Ay, David's children: wilt thou pledge me, man? {Pledge me, man!} Pledge me, I say, or else thou lov'st us not. {What, do you talk? do you talk? I'll no more; I'll lie down here.} Rather, Urias, go thou home and sleep. {O, ho, sir I would you make me break my sentence? <[Lies down.]> Home, sir! no, indeed, sir: I'll sleep upon mine arm, like a soldier; sleep like a man as long as I live in Israel.} If naught will serve to save his wife's renown, I'll send him with a letter unto Joab To put him in the forefront of the wars, That so my purposes may take effect.-- {Help him in, sirs.} <[Exeunt David and Absalom.> Come, rise, Urias; get thee in and sleep. I will not go home, sir; that's flat. Then come and rest thee upon David's bed. On, afore, my lords, on, afore. <[Exeunt.> O proud revolt of a presumptuous man, Laying his bridle in the neck of sin, Ready to bear him past his grave to hell! Like as the fatal raven, that in his voice Carries the dreadful summons of our deaths, Flies by the fair Arabian spiceries, Her pleasant gardens and delightsome parks, Seeming to curse them with his hoarse exclaims, And yet doth stoop with hungry violence Upon a piece of hateful carrion; So wretched man, displeased with those delights Would yield a quickening savor to his soul, Pursues with eager and unstanched thirst The greedy longings of his loathsome flesh If holy David so shook hands with sin, What shall our baser spirits glory in? {This kingly giving lust her rein} Pursues the sequel with a greater ill. Urias in the forefront of the wars Is murdered by the hateful heathens' sword, And David joys his too dear Bethsabe. Suppose this past, and that the child is born, Whose death the prophet solemnly doth mourn; Mourn, Bethsabe, bewail thy foolishness, Thy sin, thy shame, the sorrow of thy soul: Sin, shame, and sorrow swarm about thy soul; And, in the gates and entrance of my heart, Sadness, with wreathed arms, hangs her complaint. No comfort from the ten-stringed instrument, The tinkling cymbal, or the ivory lute; Nor doth the sound of David's kingly harp Make glad the broken heart of Bethsabe: Jerusalem is filled with thy complaint, And in the streets of Sion sits thy grief. The babe is sick, sick to the death, I fear, The fruit that sprung from thee to David's house; Nor may the pot of honey and of oil Glad David or his handmaid's countenance. Urias--wo is me to think hereon! For who is it among the sons of men That saith not to my soul, "The king hath sinned; David hath done amiss, and Bethsabe Laid snares of death unto Urias' life"? My sweet Urias, fall'n into the pit Art thou, and gone even to the gates of hell For Bethsabe, that wouldst not shroud her shame. O, what is it to serve the lust of kings! How lion-like th[e]y rage when we resist! But, Bethsabe, in humbleness attend The grace that God will to his handmaid send. <[Exeunt.> The babe is sick, and sad is David's heart, To see the guiltless bear the guilty's pain. David, hang up thy harp; hang down thy head; And dash thy ivory lute against the stones. The dew, that on the hill of Hermon falls, Rains not on Sion's tops and lofty towers; The plains of Gath and Askaron rejoice, And David's thoughts are spent in pensiveness: The babe is sick, sweet babe, that Bethsabe With woman's pain brought forth to Israel. But what saith Nathan to his lord the king? Thus Nathan saith unto his lord the king. There were two men both dwellers in one town: The one was mighty, and exceeding rich In oxen, sheep, and cattle of the field; The other poor, having nor ox, nor calf, Nor other cattle, save one little lamb Which he had bought and nourished by the hand; And it grew up, and fed with him and his, And eat and drank as he and his were wont, And in his bosom slept, and was to him As was his daughter or his dearest child. There came a stranger to this wealthy man; And he refused and spared to take his own, Or of his store to dress or make him meat, {But took the poor man's sheep, partly, poor man's store,} And dressed it for this stranger in his house. What, tell me, shall be done to him for this? Now, as the Lord doth live, this wicked man Is judged and shall become the child of death; Fourfold to the poor man shall he restore, That without mercy took his lamb away. Thou art the man; and thou hast judged thyself. David, thus saith the Lord thy God by me: I thee anointed king in Israel, And saved thee from the tyranny of Saul; Thy master's house I gave thee to possess; His wives into thy bosom did I give And Judah and Jerusalem withal; And might, thou know'st, if this had been too small {Have given thee more:} Wherefore, then, hast thou gone so far astray, And hast done evil, and sinned in my sight? Urias thou hast killed with the sword; Yea, with the sword of the uncircumcised Thou hast him slain: wherefore, from this day forth, The sword shall never go from thee and thine; For thou hast ta'en this Hethite's wife to thee: Wherefore, behold, I will, saith Jacob's God, In thine own house stir evil up to thee; Yea, I before thy face will take thy wives, And give them to thy neighbor to possess: This shall be done to David in the day, That Israel openly may see thy shame, Nathan, I have against the Lord, I have Sinned; O, sinned grievously I and, lo, From heaven's throne doth David throw himself, And groan and grovel to the gates of hell! <[Falls down.> David, stand up: thus saith the Lord by me: David the king shall live, for he hath seen The true repentant sorrow of thy heart; But, for thou hast in this misdeed of thine Stirred up the enemies of Israel To triumph, and blaspheme the God of Hosts And say, he set a wicked man to reign Over his loved people and his tribes,-- The child shall surely die that erst was born, His mother's sin, his kingly father's scorn. How just is Jacob's God in all his works! But must it die that David loveth so? O, that the Mighty One of Israel Nill change his doom, and says the babe must die! Mourn, Israel, and weep in Sion-gates; Wither, ye cedar-trees of Lebanon; Ye sprouting almonds, with your flowering tops, Droop, drown, and drench in Hebron's fearful streams: The babe must die that was to David born, His mother's sin, his kingly father's scorn. <[Sits sadly.> What tidings bringeth Cusay to the king To thee, the servant of King David's court, This bringeth Cusay, as the prophet spake; The Lord hath surely stricken to the death The child new-born by that Urias' wife, That by the sons of Ammon erst was slain. Cusay, be still; the king is vexed sore: How shall he speed that brings this tidings first, When, while the child was yet alive, we spake, And David's heart would not be comforted? Yea, David's heart will not be comforted! What murmur ye, the servants of the king? What tidings telleth Cusay to the king? Say, Cusay, lives the child, or is he dead? The child is dead, that of Urias' wife David begot. Urias' wife; sayest thou? The child is dead, then ceaseth David's shame: Fetch me to eat, and give me wine to drink; Water to wash, and oil to clear my looks; Bring down your shalms, your cymbals, and your pipes; Let David's harp and lute, his hand and voice, Give laud to him that loveth Israel, And sing his praise that shendeth David's fame That put away his sin from out his sight, And sent his shame into the streets of Gath. Bring ye to me the mother of the babe, That I may wipe the tears from off her face, And give her comfort with this hand of mine, And deck fair Bethsabe with ornaments, That she may bear to me another son, That may be loved of the Lord of Hosts; For where he is, of force must David go, But never may he come where David is. Fair Bethsabe, sit thou, and sigh no more:-- And sing and play, you servants of the king: Now sleepeth David's sorrow with the dead, And Bethsabe liveth to Israel. Now arms and warlike engines for assault Prepare at once, ye men of Israel, Ye men of Judah and Jerusalem, That Rabbah may be taken by the king, Lest it be called after Joab's name, Nor David's glory shine in Sion streets. To Rabbah marcheth David with his men, To chastise Ammon and the wicked ones. <[Exeunt.> Set up your mules, and give them well to eat, And let us meet our brothers at the feast. Accursed is the master of this feast, Dishonor of the house of Israel, His sister's slander, and his mother's shame: Shame be his share that could such ill contrive, To ravish Thamar, and, without a pause, To drive her shamefully from out his house: But may his wickedness find just reward! Therefore doth Absalon conspire with you, That Amnon die what time he sits to eat; For in the holy temple have I sworn Wreak of his villainy in Thamar's rape. And here he comes: bespeak him gently, all, Whose death is deeply graved in my heart. Our shearers are not far from hence, I wot; And Amnon to you all his brethren Giveth such welcome as our fathers erst Were wont in Judah and Jerusalem;-- But, specially, Lord Absalon, to thee, The honor of thy house and progeny: Sir down and dine with me, King David's son, Thou fair young man, whose hairs shine in mine eye Like golden wires of David's ivory lute. Amnon, where be thy shearers and thy men, That we may pour-in plenty of thy wines, And eat thy goats'-milk, and rejoice with thee? Here cometh Amnon's shearers and his men:-- Absalon, sit and rejoice with me. Drink, Absalon, in praise of Israel; Welcome to Amnon's fields from David's court. Die with thy draught; perish, and die accursed; Dishonor to the honor of us all; Die for the villainy to Thamar done, Unworthy thou to be King David's son! <[Exit with others.> O, what hath Absalon for Thamar done, Murdered his brother, great King David's son! Run, Jonadab, away, and make it known, What cruelty this Absalon hath shown. Amnon, thy brother Adonia shall Bury thy body 'mong the dead men's bones; And we will make complaint to Israel Of Amnon's death and pride of Absalon. <[Exeunt.> This is the town of the uncircumcised, The city of the kingdom, this is it, Rabbah, where wicked Hanon sitteth king. Despoil this king, this Hanon of his crown; Unpeople Rabbah and the streets thereof; For in their blood, and slaughter of the slain, Lieth the honor of King David's line. Joab, Abisai, and the rest of you, Fight ye this day for great Jerusalem. And see where Hanon shows him on the walls; Why, then, do we forbear to give assault, That Israel may, as it is promised, Subdue the daughters of the Gentiles' tribes? All this must be performed by David's hand. Hark to me, Hanon, and remember well: As sure as He doth live that kept my host, What time our young men, by the pool of Gibeon, Went forth against the strength of Isboseth, And twelve to twelve did with their weapons play; So sure art thou and thy men of war To feel the sword of Israel this day, Because thou hast defied Jacob's God, And suffered Rabbah with the Philistine To rail upon the tribe of Benjamin. Hark, man: as sure as Saul thy master fell, And gored his sides upon the mountain-tops, And Jonathan, Abinadab, and Melchisua, Watered the dales and deeps of Askaron With bloody streams, that from Gilboa ran In channels through the wilderness of Ziph, What time the sword of the uncircumcised Was drunken with the blood of Israel; So sure shall David perish with his men Under the walls of Rabbah, Hanon's town, Hanon, the God of Israel hath said, David the king shall wear that crown of thine That weighs a talent of the finest gold, And triumph in the spoil of Hanon's town, When Israel shall hale thy people hence, And turn them to the tile-kiln, man and child, And put them under harrows made of iron, And hew their bones with axes, and their limbs With iron swords divide and tear in twain. Hanon, this shall be done to thee and thine, Because thou hast defied Israel.-- To arms, to arms, that Rabbah feel revenge, And Hanon's town become King David's spoil! Now clattering arms and wrathful storms of war Have thundered over Rabbah's razed towers; The wreakful ire of great Jehovah's arm, That for his people made the gates to rend, And clothed the cherubins in fiery coats To fight against the wicked Hanon's town. Pay thanks, ye men of Judah, to the King, The God of Sion and Jerusalem, That hath exalted Israel to this, And crowned David with this diadem. Beauteous and bright is he among the tribes; As when the sun, attired in glistering robe, Comes dancing from his oriental gate, And bridegroomlike hurls through the gloomy air His radiant beams, such doth King David show, Crowned with the honor of his enemies' town, Shining in riches like the firmament, The starry vault that overhangs the earth: So looketh David King of Israel. Joab, why doth not David mount his throne Whom heaven hath beautified with Hanon's crown? Sound trumpets, shalms, and instruments of praise, To Jacob's God for David's victory. <[Trumpets, etc.> Why doth the King of Israel rejoice? Why sitteth David crowned with Rabbah's rule? Behold, there hath great heaviness befall'n In Amnon's fields by Absalon's misdeed; And Amnon's shearers and their feast of mirth Absalon hath o'erturned with his sword; Nor liveth any of King David's sons To bring this bitter tidings to the king. Ay me, how soon are David's triumphs dashed, How suddenly declineth David's pride! As doth the daylight settle in the west, So dim is David's glory and his gite. Die, David; for to thee is left no seed That may revive thy name in Israel. In Israel is left of David's seed. Comfort your lord, you servants of the king.-- Behold, thy sons return in mourning weeds, And only Amnon Absalon hath slain. Welcome, my sons; dearer to me you are Than is this golden crown or Hanon's spoil. O, tell me, then, tell me, my sons, I say, How cometh it to pass that Absalon Hath slain his brother Amnon with the sword? Thy sons, O king, went up to Amnon's fields, To feast with him and eat his bread and oil; And Absalon upon his mule doth come, And to his men he saith, "When Amnon's heart Is merry and secure, then strike him dead, Because he forced Thamar shamefully, And hated her, and threw her forth his doors." And this did he; and they with him conspire, And kill thy son in wreak of Thamar's wrong. How long shall Judah and Jerusalem Complain, and water Sion with their tears! How long shall Israel lament in vain, And not a man among the mighty ones Will hear the sorrows of King David's heart! Amnon, thy life was pleasing to thy lord, As to mine ears the music of my lute, Or songs that David tuneth to his harp; And Absalon hath ta'en from me away The gladness of my sad distressed soul. <[Exeunt Joab and some others.> God save King David, King of Israel, And bless the gates of Sion for his sake! Woman, why mournest thou? rise from the earth; Tell me what sorrow hath befall'n thy soul. Thy servant's soul, O king, is troubled sore, And grievous is the anguish of her heart; And from Thecoa doth thy handmaid come. Tell me, and say, thou woman of Thecoa, What aileth thee or what is come to pass. Thy servant is a widow in Thecoa. Two sons thy handmaid had; and they, my lord, Fought in the field, where no man went betwixt, And so the one did smite and slay the other. And, lo, behold, the kindred doth arise, {And cry on him that smote his brother,} That he therefore may be the child of death; "For we will follow and destroy the heir." So will they quench that sparkle that is left, And leave nor name nor issue on the earth To me or to thy handmaid's husband dead. Woman, return; go home unto thy house: I will take order that thy son be safe. If any man say otherwise than well, Bring him to me, and I shall chastise him; For, as the Lord doth live, shall not a hair Shed from thy son or fall upon the earth. Woman, to God alone belongs revenge: Shall, then, the kindred slay him for his sin? Well hath King David to his handmaid spoke: But wherefore, then, hast thou determined So hard a part against the righteous tribes, To follow and pursue the banished, Whenas to God alone belongs revenge? Assuredly thou sayest against thyself: Therefore call home again the banished; Call home the banished, that he may live, And raise to thee some fruit in Israel. Thou woman of Thecoa, answer me, Answer me one thing I shall ask of thee: Is not the hand of Joab in this work? Tell me, is not his finger in this fact? It is, my lord; his hand is in this work: Assure thee, Joab, captain of thy host, Hath put these words into thy handmaid's mouth; And thou art as an angel from on high, To understand the meaning of my heart; Lo, where he cometh to his lord the king. Say, Joab, didst thou send this woman in To put this parable for Absalon? Joab, my lord, did bid this woman speak, And she hath said; and thou hast understood. I have, and am content to do the thing. Go fetch my son, that he may live with me. Now God be blessed for King David's life! Thy servant Joab hath found grace with thee, In that thou sparest Absalon thy child. <[Rises.> A beautiful and fair young man is he, In all his body is no blemish seen; His hair is like the wire of David's harp, That twines about his bright and ivory neck; In Israel is not such a goodly man; And here I bring him to entreat for grace. Hast thou slain in the fields of Hazor {Ah, Absalon, my son! ah, my son, Absalon!} But wherefore do I vex thy spirit so? Live, and return from Gesur to thy house; Return from Gesur to Jerusalem: What boots it to be bitter to thy soul? Amnon is dead. and Absalon survives. Father I have offended Israel, I have offended David and his house; For Thamar's wrong hath Absalon misdone: But David's heart is free from sharp revenge, And Joab hath got grace for Absalon. Depart with me, you men of Israel, You that have followed Rabbah with the sword, And ransack Ammon's richest treasuries.-- Live, Absalon, my son, live once in peace: Peace [be] with thee, and with Jerusalem! <[Exeunt all except Absalom.]> David is gone, and Absalon remains, Flowering in pleasant spring-time of his youth: Why liveth Absalon and is not honored Of tribes and elders and the mightiest ones, That round about his temples he may wear Garlands and wreaths set on with reverence; That every one that hath a cause to plead Might come to Absalon and call for right? Then in the gates of Sion would I sit, And publish laws in great Jerusalem; And not a man should live in all the land But Absalon would do him reason's due: Therefore I shall address me, as I may, To love the men and tribes of Israel.<[Exit.> Proud lust, the bloodiest traitor to our souls, Whose greedy throat nor earth, air, sea, or heaven, Can glut or satisfy with any store, Thou art the cause these torments suck my blood, Piercing with venom of thy poisoned eyes The strength and marrow of my tainted bones. To punish Pharaoh and his cursed host, The waters shrunk at great Adonai's voice And sandy bottom of the sea appeared, Offering his service at his servant's feet; And, to inflict a plague on David's sin, He makes his bowels traitors to his breast, Winding about his heart with mortal gripes. Ah, Absalon, the wrath of heaven inflames Thy scorched bosom with ambitious heat, And Satan sets thee on a lofty tower, Showing thy thoughts the pride of Israel, Of choice to cast thee on her ruthless stones!-- Weep with me, then, ye sons of Israel; Lie down with David, and with David mourn Before the Holy One that sees our hearts; <[Lies down, and all the rest after him.> Season this heavy soil with showers of tears, And fill the face of every flower with dew; Weep, Israel, for David's soul dissolves, Lading the fountains of his drowned eyes, And pours her substance on the senseless earth. Weep, Israel; O, weep for David's soul, Strewing the ground with hair and garments torn, For tragic witness of your hearty woes! O, would our eyes were conduits to our hearts, And that our hearts were seas of liquid blood, To pour in streams upon this holy mount, For witness we would die for David's woes! Then should this Mount of Olives seem a plain Drowned with a sea, that with our sighs should roar, And, in the murmur of his mounting waves, Report our bleeding sorrows to the heavens, For witness we would die for David's woes. Earth cannot weep enough for David's woes: Then weep, you heavens, and, all you clouds, dissolve, That piteous stars may see our miseries, And drop their golden tears upon the ground, For witness how they weep for David's woes. Now let my sovereign raise his prostrate bones, And mourn not as a faithless man would do; But be assured that Jacob's righteous God, That promised never to forsake your throne, {Will still be just and pure in his vows.} Sadoc, high-priest, preserver of the ark, Whose sacred virtue keeps the chosen crown, I know my God is spotless in his vows, And that these hairs shall greet my grave in peace: But that my son should wrong his tendered soul, And fight against his father's happiness, Turns all my hopes into despair of him, And that despair feeds all my veins with grief. Think of it, David, as a fatal plague Which grief preserveth, but preventeth not; And turn thy drooping eyes upon the troops That, of affection to thy worthiness, Do swarm about the person of the king: Cherish their valors and their zealous loves With pleasant looks and sweet encouragements. Methinks the voice of Ithay fills mine ears. Let not the voice of Ithay loathe thine ears, Whose heart would balm thy bosom with his tears. But wherefore go'st thou to the wars with us? Thou art a stranger here in Israel, And son to Achis, mighty King of Gath; Therefore return, and with thy father stay: Thou cam'st but yesterday; and should I now Let thee partake these troubles here with us? Keep both thyself and all thy soldiers safe: Let me abide the hazards of these arms, And God requite the friendship thou hast showed. As sure as Israel's God gives David life, What place or peril shall contain the king, The same will Ithay share in life and death, Then, gentle Ithay, be thou still with us, A joy to David, and a grace to Israel.-- Go, Sadoc, now, and bear the ark of God Into the great Jerusalem again: If I find favor in his gracious eyes, Then will he lay his hand upon my heart Yet once again before I visit death; Giving it strength, and virtue to mine eyes, To taste the comforts and behold the form Of his fair ark and holy tabernacle: But, if he say, "My wonted love is worn, And I have no delight in David now," Here lie I armed with an humble heart T' embrace the pains that anger shall impose, And kiss the sword my lord shall kill me with. Then, Sadoc, take Ahimaas thy son, With Jonathan son to Abiathar; And in these fields will I repose myself, Till they return from you some certain news, Thy servants will with joy obey the king, And hope to cheer his heart with happy news. <[Exeunt Sadoc, Ahimaas, and Jonathan.> Now that it be no grief unto the king, Let me for good inform his majesty, That, with unkind and graceless Absalon, Achitophel your ancient counsellor Directs the state of this rebellion. Then doth it aim with danger at my crown.-- O thou, that hold'st his raging bloody bound Within the circle of the silver moon, That girds earth's centre with his watery scarf, Limit the counsel of Achitophel, No bounds extending to my soul's distress, But turn his wisdom into foolishness! Happiness and honor to my lord the king! What happiness or honor may betide His state that toils in my extremities? O, let my gracious sovereign cease these griefs, Unless he wish his servant Cusay's death, Whose life depends upon my lord's relief! Then let my presence with my sighs perfume The pleasant closet of my sovereign's soul. No, Cusay, no; thy presence unto me Will be a burden, since I tender thee, And cannot brook thy sighs for David's sake: But if thou turn to fair Jerusalem, And say to Absalon, as thou hast been A trusty friend unto his father's seat, So thou wilt be to him, and call him king, Achitophel's counsel may be brought to naught. Then having Sadoc and Abiathar, All three may learn the secrets of my son, Sending the message by Ahimaas, And friendly Jonathan, who both are there. Then rise, referring the success to heaven. Cusay, I rise; though with unwieldy bones I carry arms against my Absalon. <[Exeunt.> Now you that were my father's concubines, Liquor to his unchaste and lustful fire, Have seen his honor shaken in his house, Which I possess in sight of all the world; I bring ye forth for foils to my renown, And to eclipse the glory of your king, Whose life is with his honor fast enclosed Within the entrails of a jetty cloud, Whose dissolution shall pour down in showers The substance of his life and swelling pride: Then shall the stars light earth with rich aspects, And heaven shall burn in love with Absalon, Whose beauty will suffice to chase all mists, And clothe the sun's sphere with a triple fire, Sooner than his clear eyes should suffer stain, Or be offended with a lowering day. Thy father's honor, graceless Absalon, And ours thus beaten with thy violent arms, Will cry for vengeance to the host of heaven, Whose power is ever armed against the proud, And will dart plagues at thy aspiring head For doing this disgrace to David's throne. To David's throne, to David's holy throne, Whose sceptre angels guard with swords of fire, And sit as eagles on his conquering fist, Ready to prey upon his enemies: Then think not thou, the captain of his foes, Wert thou much swifter than Azahell was, That could outpace the nimble-footed roe, To scape the fury of their thumping beaks Or dreadful scope of their commanding wings. Let not my lord the King of Israel Be angry with a silly woman's threats; But, with the pleasure he hath erst enjoyed, Turn them into their cabinets again, Till David's conquest be their overthrow. Into your bowers, ye daughters of disdain, Gotten by fury of unbridled lust, And wash your couches with your mourning tears, For grief that David's kingdom is decayed. No, Absalon, his kingdom is enchained Fast to the finger of great Jacob's God, Which will not loose it for a rebel's love. <[Exeunt Concubines.> If I might give advice unto the king, These concubines should buy their taunts with blood. Amasa, no; but let thy martial sword Empty the veins of David's armed men, And let these foolish women scape our hands To recompense the shame they have sustained, First, Absalon was by the trumpet's sound Proclaimed through Hebron King of Israel; And now is set in fair Jerusalem With complete state and glory of a crown: Fifty fair footmen by my chariot run, And to the air whose rupture rings my fame, Where'er I ride, they offer reverence. Why should not Absalon, that in his face Carries the final purpose of his God, That is, to work him grace in Israel, Endeavor to achieve with all his strength The state that most may satisfy his joy, Keeping his statutes and his covenants pure? His thunder is entangled in my hair, And with my beauty is his lightning quenched: I am the man he made to glory in, When by the errors of my father's sin He lost the path that led into the land Wherewith our chosen ancestors were blessed. Long may the beauteous King of Israel live, To whom the people do by thousands swarm! What meaneth Cusay so to greet his foe? Is this the love thou show'st to David's soul, To whose assistance thou hast vowed thy life? Why leavest thou him in this extremity? Because the Lord and Israel chooseth thee; And as before I served thy father's turn With counsel acceptable in his sight, So likewise will I now obey his son. Then welcome, Cusay, to King Absalon.-- And now, my lords and loving counsellors, I think it time to exercise our arms Against forsaken David and his host. Give counsel first, my good Achitophel, What times and orders we may best observe For prosperous manage of these high exploits. Let me choose out twelve thousand valiant men: And, while the night hides with her sable mists The close endeavors cunning soldiers use, I will assault thy discontented sire; And, while with weakness of their weary arms, Surcharged with toil, to shun thy sudden power, The people fly in huge disordered troops To save their lives, and leave the king alone, Then will I smite him with his latest wound, And bring the people to thy feet in peace. Well hath Achitophel given his advice. Yet let us hear what Cusay counsels us, Whose great experience is well worth the ear. Though wise Achitophel be much more meet To purchase hearing with my lord the king, For all his former counsels, than myself, Yet, not offending Absalon or him, This time it is not good nor worth pursuit; For, well thou know'st, thy father's men are strong, Chafing as she-bears robbed of their whelps: Besides, the king himself a valiant man, Trained up in feats and stratagems of war; And will not, for prevention of the worst, Lodge with the common soldiers in the field; But now, I know, his wonted policies Have taught him lurk within some secret cave, Guarded with all his stoutest soldiers; Which, if the forefront of his battle faint, Will yet give out that Absalon doth fly, And so thy soldiers be discouraged: David himself withal, whose angry heart Is as a lion's letted of his walk, Will fight himself, and all his men to one, Before a few shall vanquish him by fear. My counsel therefore is, with trumpet's sound To gather men from Dan to Bersabe, That they may march in number like sea-sands, That nestle close in [one] another's neck: So shall we come upon him in our strength, Like to the dew that falls in showers from heaven, And leave him not a man to march withal. Besides, if any city succor him, The numbers of our men shall fetch us ropes, And we will pull it down the river's stream, That not a stone be left to keep us out. What says my lord to Cusay's counsel now? I fancy Cusay's counsel better far Than that is given us from Achitophel; And so, I think, doth every soldier here Cusay's counsel is better than Achitophel's. Then march we after Cusay's counsel all: Sound trumpets through the bounds of Israel, And muster all the men will serve the king, That Absalon may glut his longing soul With sole fruition of his father's crown. Ill shall they fare that follow thy attempts, That scorns the counsel of Achitophel. <[Exeunt all except Cusay.> Thus hath the power of Jacob's jealous God Fulfilled his servant David's drifts by me, And brought Achitophel's advice to scorn. God save Lord Cusay, and direct his zeal To purchase David's conquest 'gainst his son! What secrets hast thou gleaned from Absalon? These, sacred priests that bear the ark of God:-- Achitophel advised him in the night To let him choose twelve thousand fighting men, And he would come on David at unwares, While he was weary with his violent toil: But I advised to get a greater host, And gather men from Dan to Bersabe, To come upon him strongly in the fields. Then send Ahimaas and Jonathan To signify these secrets to the king, And will him not to stay this night abroad; But get him over Jordan presently, Lest he and all his people kiss the sword. Then go, Ahimaas and Jonathan, And straight convey this message to the king. Father, we will, if Absalon's chief spies Prevent not this device, and stay us here. <[Exit.> The man of Israel that hath ruled as king, Or rather as the tyrant of the land, Bolstering his hateful head upon the throne That God unworthily hath blessed him with, Shall now, I hope, lay it as low as hell, And be deposed from his detested chair. O, that my bosom could by nature bear A sea of poison, to be poured upon His cursed head that sacred balm hath graced And consecrated King of Israel! Or would my breath were made the smoke of hell, Infected with the sighs of damned souls, Or with the reeking of that serpent's gorge That feeds on adders, toads, and venomous roots, That, as I opened my revenging lips To curse the shepherd for his tyranny, My words might cast rank poison to his pores, And make his swoll'n and rankling sinews crack, Like to the combat-blows that break the clouds {When Jove's stout champions fight with fire.} See where he cometh that my soul abhors! I have prepared my pocket full of stones To cast at him, mingled with earth and dust, Which, bursting with disdain, I greet him with. Come forth, thou murderer and wicked man: The lord hath brought upon thy cursed head The guiltless blood of Saul and all his sons, Whose royal throne thy baseness hath usurped; And, to revenge it deeply on thy soul, The Lord hath given the kingdom to thy son, And he shall wreak the traitorous wrongs of Saul: Even as thy sin hath still importuned heaven, So shall thy murders and adultery Be punished in the sight of Israel, As thou deserv'st, with blood, with death, and hell. {Hence, murderer, hence!} <[Throws stones and earth at David.> Why doth [t]his dead dog curse my lord the king? Let me alone to take away his head. Why meddleth thus the son of Zeruia To interrupt the action of our God? Semei useth me with this reproach Because the Lord hath sent him to reprove The sins of David, printed in his brows With blood, that blusheth for his conscience' guilt; Who dares, then, ask him why he curseth me? If, then, thy conscience tell thee thou hast sinned, And that thy life is odious to the world, Command thy followers to shun thy face; And by thyself here make away thy soul, That I may stand and glory in thy shame, I am not desperate, Semei, like thyself, But trust unto the covenant of my God, Founded on mercy, with repentance built, And finished with the glory of my soul. A murderer, and hope for mercy in thy end! Hate and destruction sit upon thy brows To watch the issue of thy damned ghost, Which with thy latest gasp they'll take and tear, Hurling in every pain of hell a piece. Hence, murderer, thou shame to Israel, Foul lecher, drunkard, plague to heaven and earth! <[Throws again at David.> What, is it piety in David's thoughts, So to abhor from laws of policy In this extremity of his distress, To give his subjects cause of carelessness? Send hence the dog with sorrow to his grave. Why should the sons of Zeruia seek to check His spirit, which the Lord hath thus inspired? Behold, my son which issued from my flesh, With equal fury seeks to take my life: How much more then the son of Jemini, Chiefly since he doth naught but God's command? It may be, he will look on me this day With gracious eyes, and for his cursing bless The heart of David in his bitterness. What, dost thou fret my soul with sufferance? O, that the souls of Isboseth and Abner, Which thou sent'st swimming to their graves in blood, With wounds fresh bleeding, gasping for revenge, Were here to execute my burning hate! But I will hunt thy foot with curses still: Hence, monster, murderer, mirror of contempt! <[Throws again at David.> Long life to David, to his enemies death! Welcome, Ahimaas and Jonathan: What news sends Cusay to thy lord the king? {Cusay would wish my lord the king} To pass the river Jordan presently, Lest he and all his people perish here; For wise Achitophel hath counselled Absalon To take advantage of your weary arms, And come this night upon you in the fields. But yet the Lord hath made his counsel scorn, And Cusay's policy with praise preferred; Which was to number every Israelite, And so assault you in their pride of strength. Abiathar besides entreats the king To send his men of war against his son, And hazard not his person in the field. Thanks to Abiathar, and to you both, And to my Cusay, whom the Lord requite; But ten times treble thanks to his soft hand Whose pleasant touch hath made my heart to dance, And play him praises in my zealous breast, That turned the counsel of Achitophel After the prayers of his servant's lips. Now will we pass the river all this night, And in the morning sound the voice of war, The voice of bloody and unkindly war. Then tell us how thou wilt divide thy men, And who shall have the special charge herein. Joab, thyself shall for thy charge conduct The first third part of all my valiant men; The second shall Abisai's valor lead; The third fair Ithay, which I most should grace For comfort he hath done to David's woes; And I myself will follow in the midst. That let not David; for, though we should fly, Ten thousand of us were not half so much Esteemed with David's enemies as himself: Thy people, loving thee, deny thee this. What seems them best, then, that will David do. But now, my lords and captains, hear his voice That never yet pierced piteous heaven in vain; Then let it not slip lightly through your ears;-- For my sake spare the young man Absalon. Joab, thyself didst once use friendly words To reconcile my heart incensed to him; If, then, thy love be to thy kinsman sound, And thou wilt prove a perfect Israelite, Friend him with deeds, and touch no hair of him,-- Not that fair hair with which the wanton winds Delight to play, and love to make it curl, Wherein the nightingales would build their nests, And make sweet bowers in every golden tress To sing their lover every night asleep: O, spoil not, Joab, Jove's fair ornaments, Which he hath sent to solace David's soul! The best, ye see, my lords, are swift to sin; To sin our feet are washed with milk of roes, And dried again with coals of lightning. O Lord, thou see'st the proudest sin's poor slave, And with his bridle pull'st him to the grave! For my sake, then, spare lovely Absalon. We will, my lord, for thy sake favor him. <[Exeunt.> Now hath Achitophel ordered his house, And taken leave of every pleasure there: Hereon depend Achitophel's delights, And in this circle must his life be closed. The wise Achitophel, whose counsel proved Ever as sound for fortunate success As if men asked the oracle of God, Is now used like the fool of Israel: Then set thy angry soul upon her wings, And let her fly into the shade of death; And for my death let heaven for ever weep, Making huge floods upon the land I leave, To ravish them and all their fairest fruits. Let all the sighs I breathed for this disgrace, Hang on my hedges like eternal mists, As mourning garments for their master's death. Ope, earth, and take thy miserable son Into the bowels of thy cursed womb: Once in a surfeit thou didst spew him forth; Now for fell hunger suck him in again, And be his body poison to thy veins. And now, thou hellish instrument of heaven, Once execute th' arrest of Jove's just doom, And stop his breath that curseth Israel. Now for the crown and throne of Israel, To be confirmed with virtue of my sword, And writ with David's blood upon the blade. Now, Jove, let forth the golden firmament, And look on him, with all thy fiery eyes, Which thou hast made to give their glories light: To show thou lov'st the virtue of thy hand, Let fall a wreath of stars upon my head, Whose influence may govern Israel With state exceeding all her other kings. Fight, lords and captains, that your sovereign's face May shine in honor brighter than the sun; And with the virtue of my beauteous rays Make this fair land as fruitful as the fields That with sweet milk and honey overflowed. God, in the whizzing of a pleasant wind, Shall march upon the tops of mulberry-trees, To cool all breasts that burn with any griefs, As whilom he was good to Moses' men. By day the Lord shall sit within a cloud, To guide your footsteps to the fields of joy; And in the night a pillar, bright as fire, Shall go before you, like a second sun, Wherein the essence of his godhead is; That day and night you may be brought to peace, And never swerve from that delightsome path That leads your souls to perfect happiness. This shall he do for joy when I am king. Then fight, brave captains, that these joys may fly Into your bosoms with sweet victory. <[Exeunt.> What angry angel, sitting in these shades, Hath laid his cruel hands upon my hair, And holds my body thus 'twixt heaven and earth? Hath Absalon no soldier near his hand That may untwine me this unpleasant curl, Or wound this tree that ravisheth his lord? O God, behold the glory of thy hand, And choicest fruit of nature's workmanship, Hang, like a rotten branch, upon this tree, Fit for the axe and ready for the fire! Since thou withhold'st all ordinary help To loose my body from this bond of death, O, let my beauty fill these senseless plants With sense and power to loose me from this plague, And work some wonder to prevent his death Whose life thou mad'st a special miracle! My lord, I saw the young Prince Absalon Hang by the hair upon a shady oak, And could by no means get himself unloosed. Why slew'st thou not the wicked Absalon, That rebel to his father and to heaven, That so I might have given thee for thy pains Ten silver shekels and a golden waist? Not for a thousand shekels would I slay The son of David, whom his father charged Nor thou, Abisai, nor the son of Gath, Should touch with stroke of deadly violence. The charge was given in hearing of us all And, had I done it, then, I know, thyself, Before thou wouldst abide the king's rebuke, Wouldst have accused me as a man of death. I must not now stand trifling here with thee. Help, Joab, help, O, help thy Absalon! Let not thy angry thoughts be laid in blood, In blood of him that sometimes nourished thee, And softened thy sweet heart with friendly love: O, give me once again my father's sight, My dearest father and my princely sovereign! That, shedding tears of blood before his face, The ground may witness, and the heavens record, My last submission sound and full of ruth. Rebel to nature, hate to heaven and earth! Shall I give help to him that thirsts the soul Of his dear father and my sovereign lord? Now see, the Lord hath tangled in a tree The health and glory of thy stubborn heart, And made thy pride curbed with a senseless plant: Now, Absalon, how doth the Lord regard The beauty whereupon thy hope was built, And which thou thought'st his grace did glory in? Find'st thou not now, with fear of instant death, That God affects not any painted shape Or goodly personage, when the virtuous soul Is stuffed with naught but pride and stubbornness? But, preach I to thee, while I should revenge Thy cursed sin that staineth Israel, And makes her fields blush with her children's blood? Take that as part of thy deserved plague, Which worthily no torment can inflict. <[Stabs him.> O Joab, Joab, cruel, ruthless Joab! Herewith thou wound'st thy kingly sovereign's heart, Whose heavenly temper hates his children's blood, And will be sick, I know, for Absalon. O, my dear father, that thy melting eyes Might pierce this thicket to behold thy son, Thy dearest son, gored with a mortal dart! Yet, Joab, pity me: pity my father, Joab; Pity his soul's distress that mourns my life, And will be dead, I know, to hear my death. If he were so remorseful of thy state, Why sent he me against thee with the sword? All Joab means to pleasure thee withal Is, to dispatch thee quickly of thy pain: Hold, Absalon, Joab's pity is in this; In this, proud Absalon, is Joab's love. <[Stabs him again; and then exit with Soldier.> Such love, such pity Israel's God send thee, And for his love to David pity me! Ah, my dear father, see thy bowels bleed; See death assault thy dearest Absalon; See, pity, pardon, pray for Absalon! See where the rebel in his glory hangs.-- Where is the virtue of thy beauty, Absalon? Will any of us here now fear thy looks, Or be in love with that thy golden hair Wherein was wrapped rebellion 'gainst thy sire, And cords prepared to stop thy father's breath? Our captain Joab hath begun to us; And here's an end to thee and all thy sins. <[They stab Absalom; who dies.> Come, let us take the beauteous rebel down, And in some ditch, amidst this darksome wood, Bury his bulk beneath a heap of stones, Whose stony heart did hunt his father's death. Well done, tall soldiers! take the traitor down, And in this miry ditch inter his bones, Covering his hateful breast with heaps of stones. This shady thicket of dark Ephraim Shall ever lower on his cursed grave; Night-ravens and owls shall ring his fatal knell, And sit exclaiming on his damned soul; There shall they heap their preys of carrion, Till all his grave be clad with stinking bones, That it may loathe the sense of every man: So shall his end breed horror to his name, And to his traitorous fact eternal shame. O dreadful precedent of his just doom, Whose holy heart is never touched with ruth Of fickle beauty or of glorious shape, But with the virtue of an upright soul, Humble and zealous in his inward thoughts, Though in his person loathsome and deformed! Now, since this story lends us other store, To make a third discourse of David's life, Adding thereto his most renowned death, And all their deaths that at his death he judged, Here end we this, and what here wants to please, We will supply with treble willingness. <[Exit.> Soldiers of Israel, and ye sons of Judah, That have contended in these irksome broils, And ripped old Israel's bowels with your swords; The godless general of your stubborn arms Is brought by Israel's helper to the grave, A grave of shame, and scorn of all the tribes: Now, then, to save your honors from the dust, And keep your bloods in temper by your bones, Let Joab's ensign shroud your manly heads, Direct your eyes, your weapons, and your hearts, To guard the life of David from his foes. Error hath masked your much-too-forward minds, And you have sinned against the chosen state, Against his life, for whom your lives are blessed, And followed an usurper to the field; In whose just death your deaths are threatened; But Joab pities your disordered souls, And therefore offers pardon, peace, and love, To all that will be friendly reconciled To Israel's weal, to David, and to heaven. Amasa, thou art leader of the host That under Absalon have raised their arms; Then be a captain wise and politic, Careful and loving for thy soldiers' lives, And lead them to this honorable league. {I will; at least, I'll do my best:} And for the gracious offer thou hast made I give thee thanks, as much as for my head.-- Then, you deceived poor souls of Israel, Since now ye see the errors you incurred, With thanks and due submission be appeased; And as ye see your captain's precedent, Here cast we, then, our swords at Joab's feet, Submitting with all zeal and reverence Our goods and bodies to his gracious hands. Stand up, and take ye all your swords again: <[All stand up.> David and Joab shall be blessed herein. Now let me go inform my lord the king How God hath freed him from his enemies. Another time, Ahimaas, not now.-- But, Cusay, go thyself, and tell the king The happy message of our good success. I will, my lord, and thank thee for thy grace. What if thy servant should go too, my lord? What news hast thou to bring since he is gone? Yet do Ahimaas so much content, That he may run about so sweet a charge. Run, if thou wilt; and peace be with thy steps. <[Exit Ahimaas.> Now follow, that you may salute the king With humble hearts and reconciled souls. We follow, Joab, to our gracious king; And him our swords shall honor to our deaths. What means my lord, the lamp of Israel, From whose bright eyes all eyes receive their light, To dim the glory of his sweet aspect, And paint his countenance with his heart's distress? Why should his thoughts retain a sad conceit, When every pleasure kneels before his throne, And sues for sweet acceptance with his grace? Take but your lute, and make the mountains dance, Retrieve the sun's sphere, and restrain the clouds, Give ears to trees, make savage lions tame, Impose still silence to the loudest winds, And fill the fairest day with foulest storms: Then why should passions of much meaner power Bear head against the heart of Israel? Fair Bethsabe, thou mightst increase the strength Of these thy arguments, drawn from my skill, By urging thy sweet sight to my conceits, Whose virtue ever served for sacred balm To cheer my pinings past all earthly joys: But, Bethsabe, the daughter of the Highest, Whose beauty builds the towers of Israel, She that in chains of pearl and unicorn Leads at her train the ancient golden world, The world that Adam held in paradise, Whose breath refineth all infectious airs, And makes the meadows smile at her repair,-- {She, she, my dearest Bethsabe,} Fair Peace, the goddess of our graces here, Is fled the streets of fair Jerusalem, The fields of Israel, and the heart of David, Leading my comforts in her golden chains, Linked to the life and soul of Absalon. Then is the pleasure of my sovereign's heart So wrapped within the bosom of that son, That Salomon, whom Israel's God affects, And gave the name unto him for his love, Should be no salve to comfort David's soul? Salomon, my love, is David's lord; Our God hath named him lord of Israel: In him (for that, and since he is thy son,) Must David needs be pleased at the heart; And he shall surely sit upon my throne. But Absalon, the beauty of my bones, Fair Absalon, the counterfeit of love, Sweet Absalon, the image of content, Must claim a portion in his father's care, And be in life and death King David's son. Yet, as my lord hath said, let Salomon reign, Whom God in naming hath anointed king. Now is he apt to learn th' eternal laws, Whose knowledge being rooted in his youth Will beautify his age with glorious fruits; While Absalon, incensed with graceless pride, Usurps and stains the kingdom with his sin: Let Salomon be made thy staff of age, Fair Israel's rest, and honor of thy race. Tell me, my Salomon, wilt thou embrace Thy father's precepts graved in thy heart, And satisfy my zeal to thy renown With practice of such sacred principles As shall concern the state of lsrael? My royal father, if the heavenly zeal, Which for my welfare feeds upon your soul, Were not sustained with virtue of mine own; If the sweet accents of your cheerful voice Should not each hour beat upon mine ears As sweetly as the breath of heaven to him That gaspeth scorched with the summer's sun; I should be guilty of unpardoned sin, Fearing the plague of heaven and shame of earth: But since I vow myself to learn the skill And holy secrets of his mighty hand Whose cunning tunes the music of my soul, It would content me, father, first to learn How the Eternal framed the firmament; Which bodies lend their influence by fire, And which are filled with hoary winter's ice; What sign is rainy, and what star is fair; {Why by the rules of true proportion} The year is still divided into months, The months to days, the days to certain hours; What fruitful race shall fill the future world; Or for what time shall this round building stand; What magistrates, what kings shall keep in awe Men's minds with bridles of th' eternal law. Wade not too far, my boy, in waves so deep: The feeble eyes of our aspiring thoughts Behold things present, and record things past; But things to come exceed our human reach, And are not painted yet in angels' eyes: For those, submit thy sense, and say--"Thou power, That now art framing of the future world, Know'st all to come, not by the course of heaven, By frail conjectures of inferior signs, By monstrous floods, by flights and flocks of birds, By bowels of a sacrificed beast, Or by the figures of some hidden art; {But by a true and natural presage,} Laying the ground and perfect architect Of all our actions now before thine eyes, From Adam to the end of Adam's seed: O heaven, protect my weakness with thy strength! So look on me that I may view thy face, And see these secrets written in thy brows. O sun, come dart thy rays upon my moon! That now mine eyes, eclipsed to the earth, May brightly be refined and shine to heaven; Transform me from this flesh, that I may live, Before my death, regenerate with thee. O thou great God, ravish my earthly sprite! That for the time a more than human skill May feed the organons of all my sense; That, when I think, thy thoughts may be my guide, And, when I speak, I may be made by choice The perfect echo of thy heavenly voice." Thus say, my son, and thou shalt learn them all. A secret fury ravisheth my soul, Lifting my mind above her human bounds; And, as the eagle, roused from her stand With violent hunger, towering in the air, Seizeth her feathered prey, and thinks to feed. But seeing then a cloud beneath her feet, Lets fall the fowl, and is emboldened With eyes intentive to bedare the sun, And styeth close unto his stately sphere; So Salomon, mounted on the burning wings Of zeal divine, lets fall his mortal food, And cheers his senses with celestial air, Treads in the golden starry labyrinth, And holds his eyes fixed on Jehovah's brows. Good father, teach me further what to do. See, David, how his haughty spirit mounts, Even now of height to wield a diadem: Then make him promise that he may succeed, And rest old Israel's bones from broils of war. Nathan, thou prophet, sprung from Jesse's root, I promise thee and lovely Bethsabe, My Salomon shall govern after me. He that hath touched thee with this righteous thought Preserve the harbor of thy thoughts in peace! My lord, thy servants of the watch have seen One running hitherward from forth the wars. If he be come alone, he bringeth news. Another hath thy servant seen, my lord, Whose running much resembles Sadoc's son. He is a good man, and good tidings brings. Peace and content be with my lord the king, Whom Israel's God hath blessed with victory. Tell me, Ahimaas, lives my Absalon? I saw a troop of soldiers gathered, But know not what the tumult might import, Stand by, until some other may inform The heart of David with a happy truth. Happiness and honor live with David's soul, Whom God hath blessed with conquest of his foes, But, Cusay, lives the young man Absalon? The stubborn enemies to David's peace, And all that cast their darts against his crown, Fare ever like the young man Absalon! For as he rid the woods of Ephraim, Which fought for thee as much as all thy men, His hair was tangled in a shady oak; And hanging there, by Joab and his men Sustained the stroke of well deserved death. Hath Absalon sustained the stroke of death? Die, David, for the death of Absalon, And make these cursed news the bloody darts That through his bowels rip thy wretched breast. Hence, David, walk the solitary woods, And in some cedar's shade the thunder slew, And fire from heaven hath made his branches black, Sit mourning the decease of Absalon: Against the body of that blasted plant In thousand shivers break thy ivory lute, Hanging thy stringless harp upon his boughs; And through the hollow sapless sounding trunk Bellow the torments that perplex thy soul. There let the winds sit sighing till they burst; Let tempest, muffled with a cloud of pitch, Threaten the forests with her hellish face, And, mounted fiercely on her iron wings, Rend up the wretched engine by the roots That held my dearest Absalon to death. Then let them toss my broken lute to heaven, Even to his hands that beats me with the strings, To show how sadly his poor shepherd sings. <[Goes to his pavilion and sits close a while.> Die, Bethsabe, to see thy David mourn, To hear his tunes of anguish and of hell. O, help, my David, help thy Bethsabe, Whose heart is pierced with thy breathy swords, And bursts with burden of ten thousand griefs! <[Lies down.> Now sit thy sorrows sucking of my blood: O, that it might be poison to their powers, And that their lips might draw my bosom dry, So David's love might ease him, though she die! These violent passions come not from above; David and Bethsabe offend the Highest, To mourn in this immeasurable sort. O Absalon, Absalon! O my son, my son! Would God that I had died for Absalon! {But he is dead; ah, dead! Absalon is dead:} And David lives to die for Absalon. <[Sits close again.> Why lies the queen so prostrate on the ground? Why is this company so tragic-hued? Why is the king now absent from his men, And marcheth not in triumph through the gates? <[Unfolds the pavilion.> David, awake; if sleep have shut thine eyes, Sleep of affection, that thou canst not see The honor offered to the victor's head: Joab brings conquest pierced on his spear, And joy from all the tribes of Israel. Thou man of blood, thou sepulchre of death, Whose marble breast entombs my bowels quick, Did I not charge thee, nay, entreat thy hand, Even for my sake, to spare my Absalon? And hast thou now, in spite of David's health, And scorn to do my heart some happiness, Given him the sword and spilt his purple soul? What, irks it David, that he victor breathes, That Judah and the fields of Israel Should cleanse their faces from their children's blood, What, art thou weary of thy royal rule? Is Israel's throne a serpent in thine eyes, And he that set thee there so far from thanks, That thou must curse his servant for his sake? Hast thou not said that, as the morning light, The cloudless morning, so should be thine house, And not as flowers by the brightest rain Which grow up quickly and as quickly fade? Hast thou not said, the wicked are as thorns, That cannot be preserved with the hand, And that the man shall touch them must be armed With coats of iron and garments made of steel, Or with the shaft of a defenced spear? And art thou angry he is now cut off That led the guiltless swarming to their deaths, And was more wicked than an host of men? Advance thee from thy melancholy den, And deck thy body with thy blissful robes, Or, by the Lord that sways the heaven I swear, I'll lead thine armies to another king Shall cheer them for their princely chivalry, And not sit daunted, frowning in the dark, When his fair looks, with oil and wine refreshed, Should dart into their bosoms gladsome beams, And fill their stomachs with triumphant feasts; That when elsewhere stem war shall sound his trump, And call another battle to the field, Fame still may bring thy valiant soldiers home, And for their service happily confess She wanted worthy trumps to sound their prowess: Take thou this course and live; refuse and die. Come, brother, let him sit there till he sink; Some other shall advance the name of Joab. <[Offers to go out with Joab.> O, stay, my lords, stay! David mourns no more, But riseth to give honor to your acts. Then happy art thou, David's fairest son, That, freed from the yoke of earthly toils, And sequestered from sense of human sins, Thy soul shall joy the sacred cabinet {Of those divine ideas that present} Thy changed spirit with a heaven of bliss. Then thou art gone; ah, thou art gone, my son! To heaven, I hope, my Absalon is gone: Thy soul there placed in honor of the saints, Or angels clad with immortality, Shall reap a sevenfold grace for all thy griefs; Thy eyes, now no more eyes but shining stars, Shall deck the flaming heavens with novel lamps; There shalt thou taste the drink of seraphins, And cheer thy feelings with archangels' food; Thy day of rest, thy holy sabbath-day, Shall be eternal; and, the curtain drawn, Thou shalt behold thy sovereign face to face, With wonder, knit in triple unity, Unity infinite and innumerable.---- Courage, brave captains! Joab's tale hath stirred, And made the suit of Israel preferred. Bravely resolved, and spoken like a king: Now may old Israel and his daughters sing. <[Exeunt omnes.>