JONADAB

What means my lord, the Kings beloved son That wears upon his right triumphant arm, The power of Israel for a royal favour, That holds upon the Tables of his hands, Banquets of honour, and all thoughts content To suffer pale and grisly abstinence To fit and feed upon his fainting cheeks, And suck away the blood that cheers his looks. Oh what hath Absolon for Thamar done, Murdered his brother, great king David's son. Then from her heart thy looks shall be relieved, And thou shalt joy her as thy soul desires. 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 thy self, Enforce some favour to thy manly love: See where she comes, entreat her in with thee. 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 Ammon, Absalon hath slain. 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. Now let me go inform my lord the King, How God hath freed him from his enemies. What if thy servant should go to my lord? Yet do Ahimaas so much content, That he may run about so sweet a charge. Exit. Why should a Prince, whose power may command, Obey the rebel passion of his love, When they contend but gainst his conscience, And may be governed or suppressed by will. Now Ammon loose those loving knots of blood, That sokte 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 and Actium of such violence, As to contend with Ammon's lusty arms, Sinnewd with vigor of his landless love, Fair Thamar now dishonour Hunt's thy foot, And follows thee through every covert shade, Discovering thy shame and nakedness Even from the valleys of Jehosophat, Up to the lofty mounts of Libanon, Where Caedars stirred with anger of the winds, Sounding in storms the tale of thy disgrace, Tremble with fury, and with murmur shake Eearth 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. Why does the King of Israel rejoice, Why sitteth David crowned with Rabba's rule, Behold there hath great heaviness befallen In Ammon's fields by Absolons misdeed, And Ammon's shearers, and their feast of mirth Absalon hath overturned with his sword, Nor lives any of King David's sons, To bring this bitter tidings to the King.