_Adam._ O sir, 'tis one Goodman Jonas, that is come from Jericho; and surely I think he hath seen some spirit by the way, and is fallen out of his wits, for he never leaves crying night nor day. My master heard him, and he shut up his shop, gave me my indenture, and he and his wife do nothing but fast and pray.
_Jonas._ Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent!
_Rasni._ Come hither, fellow: what art, and from whence comest thou?
_Jonas._ Rasni, I am a prophet of the Lord, Sent hither by the mighty God of hosts, To cry destruction to the Ninevites. O Nineveh, thou harlot of the world, I raise thy neighbours round about thy bounds, To come and see thy filthiness and sin! Thus saith the Lord, the mighty God of hosts: Your king loves chambering and wantonness; Whoredom and murder do distain his court; He favoureth covetous and drunken men; Behold, therefóre, all like a strumpet foul, Thou shalt be judg'd and punish'd for thy crime; The foe shall pierce the gates with iron ramps, The fire shall quite consume thee from above, The houses shall be burnt, the infants slain, And women shall behold their husbands die. Thine eldest sister is Samaria,[120] And Sodom on thy right hand seated is. Repent, ye men of Nineveh, repent! The Lord hath spoke, and I do cry it out, There are as yet but forty days remaining, And then shall Nineveh be overthrown. [_Offers to depart._
_Jonas._ Disturb not him that sent me; Let me perform the message of the Lord. [_Exit._
_Rasni._ My soul is buried in the hell of thoughts.-- Ah, Alvida, I look on thee with shame!-- My lords on sudden fix their eyes on ground, As if dismay'd to look upon the heavens.-- Hence, Magi, who have flattered me in sin! [_Exeunt_ Magi. Horror of mind, disturbance of my soul, Make me aghast for Nineveh's mishap. Lords, see proclaim'd, yea, see it straight proclaim'd, That man and beast, the woman and her child, For forty days in sack and ashes fast: Perhaps the Lord will yield, and pity us.-- Bear hence these wretched blandishments of sin, [_Taking off his crown and robe._ And bring me sackcloth to attire your king: Away with pomp! my soul is full of woe.-- In pity look on Nineveh, O God! [_Exeunt all except_ ALVIDA _and_ Ladies.