University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

The bridge over Gihon by the corner of Millo, between the upper and lower city: illuminations seen on the housetops: sounds of nocturnal riot and confusion in the streets: Hadad walking impatiently backwards and forwards on the bridge. Distant shouts.
Had.
(listening.)
Mouthed brutes!—King Absalom!—King Log!—I care not—
Zion sanctissime!—How bloodily
The fires of jubilee flash to the clouds!—
Or wind, or thunder's mustering! Their pale faces,
Huddled upon the housetops, look like ghosts
Come fresh from battle. Yea, were our grim confines
Peopled, polluted with a herd like this,
They were infernal. Thieves, beggars, bravoes, base
Nethinims, harlots, tattered prodigals
Flock from their holes to shout for Absalom!
The filth of Jebus—Ha! what cry is that?
(Listens anxiously.)
Where can they loiter?—Should some ruffian clasp
Her peerless beauty! Well, His sanctitude
Suffers:—there 's comfort. Hark! a rabblement
Hoots this way.—Let me shun their drunken madness.

(Retires into the shade of Millo: enter a Crowd from the lower city, shouting.)
First Crowd.
Hurrah for Absalom! King Absalom!

Second Crowd.
Down with the Graybeard!

Third Crowd.
Down with the Giant-queller!

Fourth Crowd.
Hold, Sirs,—hold, while I chant a canticle
Indited for next Feast of Tabernacles,
On that same doughty feat.

Fifth Crowd.
(drunk.)
A murrain take
Your canticles! Cry, “Long live Absalom!”

Fourth Crowd.
Whom have we there, my masters?—See ye not?
Bolt upright by the wall?—Rabbi, who art thou?
Emerge, I say:—come from the land of shadows:
Art thou for Absalom?

Had.
Ay.

Fifth Crowd.
Then show thyself.

Had.
I'm stationed by the King.

Crowd.
Molest him not;
He says he 's of our party.

Fifth Crowd.
Let him shout. (Approaches Hadad.)

Uplift thy voice. Wast thou born dumb?

Crowd.
Look! look!
What throng is that by David's Tower?

Second Crowd.
Hurrah! (Rushes up toward Zion: all follow.)


Had.
(resuming his station on the bridge.)
What nightmare sits on them! They might have groped
The Red Sea caves, the womb of Caucasus,
The den of Hiddekel—Ha! Maugrabin!
Maugrabin looks from behind an angle of the neighbouring wall, and enters.
Hast found her?—Speak!—

Maug.
No track of her.

Had.
Out, Incubus! Where hast thou idled?

Maug.
By Trismegistus! in this half short hour
I 've borne my clay so spitefully about,
That eyes which saw me doubted if they saw
Substance or shadow. Every den of mischief,
Cavern of booty,—every partlet roost,
Ha! ha! ha! compassed by these holy walls—
I 've peeped into, and sworn by Samaël
Hot night-caps if they touch a plume of her.
No fear:—they know the Fowler!

Had.
(after a moment's thought)
Follow.

(Exit hastily.)
Maug.
Whew!
Eloim gabbathi, Asmody!

(Exit after.)