_Enter_ ALVIDA _with her_ Ladies, _with dispersed locks._
_Alvi._ Come, mournful dames, lay off your broider'd locks, And on your shoulders spread dispersèd hairs: Let voice of music cease where sorrow dwells: Clothèd in sackcloth, sigh your sins with me; Bemoan your pride, bewail your lawless lusts; With fasting mortify your pamper'd loins: O, think upon the horror of your sins, Think, think with me, the burden of your blames! Woe to thy pomp, false beauty, fading flower, Blasted by age, by sickness, and by death! Woe to our painted cheeks, our curious oils, Our rich array, that foster'd us in sin! Woe to our idle thoughts, that wound our souls! O, would to God all nations might receive A good example by our grievous fall!
_First Lady._ You that are planted there where pleasure dwells, And think your pomp as great as Nineveh's, May fall for sin as Nineveh doth now.
_Alvi._ Mourn, mourn, let moan be all your melody, And pray with me, and I will pray for all:-- O Lord of heaven, forgive us our misdeeds!
_Ladies._ O Lord of heaven, forgive us our misdeeds!
_Usurer._ O Lord of light, forgive me my misdeeds!
_Enter_ RASNI, _with his_ Kings _and_ Lords _in sackcloth._
_K. of Cil._ Be not so overcome with grief, O king, Lest you endanger life by sorrowing so.
_Rasni._ King of Cilicia, should I cease my grief, Whereas my swarming sins afflict my soul? Vain man, know this, my burden greater is Than every private subject's in my land. My life hath been a loadstar unto them, To guide them in the labyrinth of blame: Thus I have taught them for to do amiss; Then must I weep, my friend, for their amiss. The fall of Nineveh is wrought by me: I have maintain'd this city in her shame; I have contemn'd the warnings from above; I have upholden incest, rape, and spoil; 'Tis I, that wrought the sin, must weep the sin. O, had I tears like to the silver streams That from the Alpine mountains sweetly stream, Or had I sighs, the treasures of remorse, As plentiful as Æolus hath blasts, I then would tempt the heavens with my laments, And pierce the throne of mercy by my sighs!
_K. of Cil._ Heavens are propitious unto faithful prayers.
_Rasni._ But after we repent, we must lament, Lest that a worser mischief doth befall. O, pray: perhaps the Lord will pity us.-- O God of truth, both merciful and just, Behold, repentant men, with piteous eyes We wail the life that we have led before: O, pardon, Lord! O, pity Nineveh!