Friend, canst thou think that I allow myself To be made blind by an unworthy zeal For a vain idol, fragile form of wood, Which, notwithstanding my support, the worms Upon its altar every day consume? Born servant of the God that temple loves, It might be Mathan would adore Him still, If lust of greatness, thirst for dominance, Could be accommodated to His yoke. Nabal, what need repicture to thy mind The noted quarrel of myself and Joad. When I 'gainst him the censor dared dispute, My factions, struggles, waitings, my despair? Vanquished by him I chose a new career, And wed my soul entirely to the court. I by degrees approached their royal honours, And soon my voice was made an oracle. I probed their heart, and flattered their caprice; Bestrewed with flowers the precipice's brink; Serving their passions, naught to me was sacred; Measure and weight I changed as they inclined. As much as Joad's unpliant humour pained The softness of their supercilious ear, So much I pleased them with my dexterous art; Concealing from their eyes the bitter truth; Lending convenient colour to their rage; And, lavish, above all, of wretches' blood. At length, to Baal, whom she had introduced, By Athaliah was a temple reared. Jerusalem did weep to see herself Profaned: The alarmed band of Levi's race Did elevate to heaven appalling cries. Giving example to the timid Jews. Deserter from their law, myself approved The enterprise, and merited by that Baal's priesthood: and I made myself withal A terror to my rival; I put on The turban--walked his equal. Ne'ertheless I must avow, that in that glorious height The troublesome memory of the God I left Still throws into my soul a shade of dread: Tis that which strengthens and supports my fury. Happy, if on the temple my revenge Accomplishing, I can at length content Her petty spite, and lose amongst the wreck The ravage and the slaughter, my remorse, By dint of those enormities. But here Is Josabet. _Scene IV._ {JOSABET, MATHAN, NABAL.} {MATHAN.}