Part 3

BARABAS. Ay, mark him, you were best; for this is he That by my help shall do much villany.-- [Aside.] My lord, farewell.--Come, sirrah; you are mine.-- As for the diamond, it shall be yours: I pray, sir, be no stranger at my house; All that I have shall be at your command.

Enter MATHIAS and KATHARINE. [75]

MATHIAS. What make the Jew and Lodowick so private? I fear me 'tis about fair Abigail. [Aside.]

BARABAS. [to LODOWICK.] Yonder comes Don Mathias; let us stay: [76] He loves my daughter, and she holds him dear; But I have sworn to frustrate both their hopes, And be reveng'd upon the--governor. [Aside.] [Exit LODOWICK.]

KATHARINE. This Moor is comeliest, is he not? speak, son.

MATHIAS. No, this is the better, mother, view this well.

BARABAS. Seem not to know me here before your mother, Lest she mistrust the match that is in hand: When you have brought her home, come to my house; Think of me as thy father: son, farewell.

MATHIAS. But wherefore talk'd Don Lodowick with you?

BARABAS. Tush, man! we talk'd of diamonds, not of Abigail.

KATHARINE. Tell me, Mathias, is not that the Jew?

BARABAS. As for the comment on the Maccabees, I have it, sir, and 'tis at your command.

MATHIAS. Yes, madam, and my talk with him was [77] About the borrowing of a book or two.

KATHARINE. Converse not with him; he is cast off from heaven.-- Thou hast thy crowns, fellow.--Come, let's away.

MATHIAS. Sirrah Jew, remember the book.

BARABAS. Marry, will I, sir. [Exeunt KATHARlNE and MATHIAS.]

FIRST OFFICER. Come, I have made a reasonable market; let's away. [Exeunt OFFICERS with SLAVES.]

BARABAS. Now let me know thy name, and therewithal Thy birth, condition, and profession.

ITHAMORE. Faith, sir, my birth is but mean; my name's Ithamore; my profession what you please.

BARABAS. Hast thou no trade? then listen to my words, And I will teach [thee] that shall stick by thee: First, be thou void of these affections, Compassion, love, vain hope, and heartless fear; Be mov'd at nothing, see thou pity none, But to thyself smile when the Christians moan.

ITHAMORE. O, brave, master! [78] I worship your nose [79] for this.

BARABAS. As for myself, I walk abroad o' nights, And kill sick people groaning under walls: Sometimes I go about and poison wells; And now and then, to cherish Christian thieves, I am content to lose some of my crowns, That I may, walking in my gallery, See 'em go pinion'd along by my door. Being young, I studied physic, and began To practice first upon the Italian; There I enrich'd the priests with burials, And always kept the sexton's arms in ure [80] With digging graves and ringing dead men's knells: And, after that, was I an engineer, And in the wars 'twixt France and Germany, Under pretence of helping Charles the Fifth, Slew friend and enemy with my stratagems: Then, after that, was I an usurer, And with extorting, cozening, forfeiting, And tricks belonging unto brokery, I fill'd the gaols with bankrupts in a year, And with young orphans planted hospitals; And every moon made some or other mad, And now and then one hang himself for grief, Pinning upon his breast a long great scroll How I with interest tormented him. But mark how I am blest for plaguing them;-- I have as much coin as will buy the town. But tell me now, how hast thou spent thy time?

ITHAMORE. Faith, master, In setting Christian villages on fire, Chaining of eunuchs, binding galley-slaves. One time I was an hostler in an inn, And in the night-time secretly would I steal To travellers' chambers, and there cut their throats: Once at Jerusalem, where the pilgrims kneel'd, I strewed powder on the marble stones, And therewithal their knees would rankle so, That I have laugh'd a-good [81] to see the cripples Go limping home to Christendom on stilts.

BARABAS. Why, this is something: make account of me As of thy fellow; we are villains both; Both circumcised; we hate Christians both: Be true and secret; thou shalt want no gold. But stand aside; here comes Don Lodowick.

Enter LODOWICK. [82]

LODOWICK. O, Barabas, well met; Where is the diamond you told me of?

BARABAS. I have it for you, sir: please you walk in with me.-- What, ho, Abigail! open the door, I say!

Enter ABIGAIL, with letters.

ABIGAIL. In good time, father; here are letters come ]From Ormus, and the post stays here within.

BARABAS. Give me the letters.--Daughter, do you hear? Entertain Lodowick, the governor's son, With all the courtesy you can afford, Provided that you keep your maidenhead: Use him as if he were a Philistine; Dissemble, swear, protest, vow love to him: [83] He is not of the seed of Abraham.-- [Aside to her.] I am a little busy, sir; pray, pardon me.-- Abigail, bid him welcome for my sake.

ABIGAIL. For your sake and his own he's welcome hither.

BARABAS. Daughter, a word more: kiss him, speak him fair, And like a cunning Jew so cast about, That ye be both made sure [84] ere you come out. [Aside to her.]

ABIGAIL. O father, Don Mathias is my love!

BARABAS. I know it: yet, I say, make love to him; Do, it is requisite it should be so.-- [Aside to her.] Nay, on my life, it is my factor's hand; But go you in, I'll think upon the account. [Exeunt ABIGAIL and LODOWICK into the house.] The account is made, for Lodovico [85] dies. My factor sends me word a merchant's fled That owes me for a hundred tun of wine: I weigh it thus much[snapping his fingers]! I have wealth enough; For now by this has he kiss'd Abigail, And she vows love to him, and he to her. As sure as heaven rain'd manna for the Jews, So sure shall he and Don Mathias die: His father was my chiefest enemy.

Enter MATHIAS.

Whither goes Don Mathias? stay a while.

MATHIAS. Whither, but to my fair love Abigail?

BARABAS. Thou know'st, and heaven can witness it is true, That I intend my daughter shall be thine.

MATHIAS. Ay, Barabas, or else thou wrong'st me much.

BARABAS. O, heaven forbid I should have such a thought! Pardon me though I weep: the governor's son Will, whether I will or no, have Abigail; He sends her letters, bracelets, jewels, rings.

MATHIAS. Does she receive them?

BARABAS. She! no, Mathias, no, but sends them back; And, when he comes, she locks herself up fast; Yet through the key-hole will he talk to her, While she runs to the window, looking out When you should come and hale him from the door.

MATHIAS. O treacherous Lodowick!

BARABAS. Even now, as I came home, he slipt me in, And I am sure he is with Abigail.

MATHIAS. I'll rouse him thence.

BARABAS. Not for all Malta; therefore sheathe your sword; If you love me, no quarrels in my house; But steal you in, and seem to see him not: I'll give him such a warning ere he goes, As he shall have small hopes of Abigail. Away, for here they come.

Re-enter LODOWICK and ABIGAIL.

MATHIAS. What, hand in hand! I cannot suffer this.

BARABAS. Mathias, as thou lov'st me, not a word.

MATHIAS. Well, let it pass; another time shall serve. [Exit into the house.]

LODOWICK. Barabas, is not that the widow's son?

BARABAS. Ay, and take heed, for he hath sworn your death.

LODOWICK. My death! what, is the base-born peasant mad?

BARABAS. No, no; but happily [86] he stands in fear Of that which you, I think, ne'er dream upon,-- My daughter here, a paltry silly girl.

LODOWICK. Why, loves she Don Mathias?

BARABAS. Doth she not with her smiling answer you?

ABIGAIL. He has my heart; I smile against my will. [Aside.]

LODOWICK. Barabas, thou know'st I have lov'd thy daughter long.

BARABAS. And so has she done you, even from a child.

LODOWICK. And now I can no longer hold my mind.

BARABAS. Nor I the affection that I bear to you.

LODOWICK. This is thy diamond; tell me, shall I have it?

BARABAS. Win it, and wear it; it is yet unsoil'd. [87] O, but I know your lordship would disdain To marry with the daughter of a Jew: And yet I'll give her many a golden cross [88] With Christian posies round about the ring.

LODOWICK. 'Tis not thy wealth, but her that I esteem; Yet crave I thy consent.

BARABAS. And mine you have; yet let me talk to her.-- This offspring of Cain, this Jebusite, That never tasted of the Passover, Nor e'er shall see the land of Canaan, Nor our Messias that is yet to come; This gentle maggot, Lodowick, I mean, Must be deluded: let him have thy hand, But keep thy heart till Don Mathias comes. [Aside to her.]

ABIGAIL. What, shall I be betroth'd to Lodowick?

BARABAS. It's no sin to deceive a Christian; For they themselves hold it a principle, Faith is not to be held with heretics: But all are heretics that are not Jews; This follows well, and therefore, daughter, fear not.-- [Aside to her.] I have entreated her, and she will grant.

LODOWICK. Then, gentle Abigail, plight thy faith to me.

ABIGAIL. I cannot choose, seeing my father bids: Nothing but death shall part my love and me.

LODOWICK. Now have I that for which my soul hath long'd.

BARABAS. So have not I; but yet I hope I shall. [Aside.]

ABIGAIL. O wretched Abigail, what hast thou [89] done? [Aside.]

LODOWICK. Why on the sudden is your colour chang'd?

ABIGAIL. I know not: but farewell; I must be gone.

BARABAS. Stay her, but let her not speak one word more.

LODOWICK. Mute o' the sudden! here's a sudden change.

BARABAS. O, muse not at it; 'tis the Hebrews' guise, That maidens new-betroth'd should weep a while: Trouble her not; sweet Lodowick, depart: She is thy wife, and thou shalt be mine heir.

LODOWICK. O, is't the custom? then I am resolv'd: [90] But rather let the brightsome heavens be dim, And nature's beauty choke with stifling clouds, Than my fair Abigail should frown on me.-- There comes the villain; now I'll be reveng'd.

Re-enter MATHIAS.

BARABAS. Be quiet, Lodowick; it is enough That I have made thee sure to Abigail.

LODOWICK. Well, let him go. [Exit.]

BARABAS. Well, but for me, as you went in at doors You had been stabb'd: but not a word on't now; Here must no speeches pass, nor swords be drawn.

MATHIAS. Suffer me, Barabas, but to follow him.

BARABAS. No; so shall I, if any hurt be done, Be made an accessary of your deeds: Revenge it on him when you meet him next.

MATHIAS. For this I'll have his heart.

BARABAS. Do so. Lo, here I give thee Abigail!

MATHIAS. What greater gift can poor Mathias have? Shall Lodowick rob me of so fair a love? My life is not so dear as Abigail.

BARABAS. My heart misgives me, that, to cross your love, He's with your mother; therefore after him.

MATHIAS. What, is he gone unto my mother?

BARABAS. Nay, if you will, stay till she comes herself.

MATHIAS. I cannot stay; for, if my mother come, She'll die with grief. [Exit.]

ABIGAIL. I cannot take my leave of him for tears. Father, why have you thus incens'd them both?

BARABAS. What's that to thee?

ABIGAIL. I'll make 'em friends again.

BARABAS. You'll make 'em friends! are there not Jews enow in Malta, But thou must dote upon a Christian?

ABIGAIL. I will have Don Mathias; he is my love.

BARABAS. Yes, you shall have him.--Go, put her in.

ITHAMORE. Ay, I'll put her in. [Puts in ABIGAIL.]

BARABAS. Now tell me, Ithamore, how lik'st thou this?

ITHAMORE. Faith, master, I think by this You purchase both their lives: is it not so?

BARABAS. True; and it shall be cunningly perform'd.

ITHAMORE. O, master, that I might have a hand in this!

BARABAS. Ay, so thou shalt; 'tis thou must do the deed: Take this, and bear it to Mathias straight, [Giving a letter.] And tell him that it comes from Lodowick.

ITHAMORE. 'Tis poison'd, is it not?

BARABAS. No, no; and yet it might be done that way: It is a challenge feign'd from Lodowick.

ITHAMORE. Fear not; I will so set his heart a-fire, That he shall verily think it comes from him.

BARABAS. I cannot choose but like thy readiness: Yet be not rash, but do it cunningly.

ITHAMORE. As I behave myself in this, employ me hereafter.

BARABAS. Away, then! [Exit ITHAMORE.] So; now will I go in to Lodowick, And, like a cunning spirit, feign some lie, Till I have set 'em both at enmity. [Exit.]

## ACT III.

Enter BELLAMIRA. [91]

BELLAMIRA. Since this town was besieg'd, my gain grows cold: The time has been, that but for one bare night A hundred ducats have been freely given; But now against my will I must be chaste: And yet I know my beauty doth not fail. ]From Venice merchants, and from Padua Were wont to come rare-witted gentlemen, Scholars I mean, learned and liberal; And now, save Pilia-Borza, comes there none, And he is very seldom from my house; And here he comes.

Enter PILIA-BORZA.

PILIA-BORZA. Hold thee, wench, there's something for thee to spend. [Shewing a bag of silver.]

BELLAMIRA. 'Tis silver; I disdain it.

PILIA-BORZA. Ay, but the Jew has gold, And I will have it, or it shall go hard.

BELLAMIRA. Tell me, how cam'st thou by this?

PILIA-BORZA. Faith, walking the back-lanes, through the gardens, I chanced to cast mine eye up to the Jew's counting-house, where I saw some bags of money, and in the night I clambered up with my hooks; and, as I was taking my choice, I heard a rumbling in the house; so I took only this, and run my way.--But here's the Jew's man.

BELLAMIRA. Hide the bag.

Enter ITHAMORE.

PILIA-BORZA. Look not towards him, let's away. Zoons, what a looking thou keepest! thou'lt betray's anon. [Exeunt BELLAMIRA and PILIA-BORZA.]

ITHAMORE. O, the sweetest face that ever I beheld! I know she is a courtezan by her attire: now would I give a hundred of the Jew's crowns that I had such a concubine. Well, I have deliver'd the challenge in such sort, As meet they will, and fighting die,--brave sport! [Exit.]

Enter MATHIAS.

MATHIAS. This is the place: [92] now Abigail shall see Whether Mathias holds her dear or no.

Enter LODOWICK.

What, dares the villain write in such base terms? [Looking at a letter.]

LODOWICK. I did it; and revenge it, if thou dar'st! [They fight.]

Enter BARABAS above.

BARABAS. O, bravely fought! and yet they thrust not home. Now, Lodovico! [93] now, Mathias!--So; [Both fall.] So, now they have shew'd themselves to be tall [94] fellows.

[Cries within] Part 'em, part 'em!

BARABAS. Ay, part 'em now they are dead. Farewell, farewell! [Exit above.]

Enter FERNEZE, KATHARINE, and ATTENDANTS.

FERNEZE. What sight is this! [95] my Lodovico [96] slain! These arms of mine shall be thy sepulchre. [97]

KATHARINE. Who is this? my son Mathias slain!

FERNEZE. O Lodowick, hadst thou perish'd by the Turk, Wretched Ferneze might have veng'd thy death!

KATHARINE. Thy son slew mine, and I'll revenge his death.

FERNEZE. Look, Katharine, look! thy son gave mine these wounds.

KATHARINE. O, leave to grieve me! I am griev'd enough.

FERNEZE. O, that my sighs could turn to lively breath, And these my tears to blood, that he might live!

KATHARINE. Who made them enemies?

FERNEZE. I know not; and that grieves me most of all.

KATHARINE. My son lov'd thine.

FERNEZE. And so did Lodowick him.

KATHARINE. Lend me that weapon that did kill my son, And it shall murder me.

FERNEZE. Nay, madam, stay; that weapon was my son's, And on that rather should Ferneze die.

KATHARINE. Hold; let's inquire the causers of their deaths, That we may venge their blood upon their heads.

FERNEZE. Then take them up, and let them be interr'd Within one sacred monument of stone; Upon which altar I will offer up My daily sacrifice of sighs and tears, And with my prayers pierce impartial heavens, Till they [reveal] the causers of our smarts, Which forc'd their hands divide united hearts. Come, Katharine; [98] our losses equal are; Then of true grief let us take equal share. [Exeunt with the bodies.]

Enter ITHAMORE. [99]

ITHAMORE. Why, was there ever seen such villany, So neatly plotted, and so well perform'd? Both held in hand, [100] and flatly both beguil'd?

Enter ABIGAIL.

ABIGAIL. Why, how now, Ithamore! why laugh'st thou so?

ITHAMORE. O mistress! ha, ha, ha!

ABIGAIL. Why, what ail'st thou?

ITHAMORE. O, my master!

ABIGAIL. Ha!

ITHAMORE. O mistress, I have the bravest, gravest, secret, subtle, bottle-nosed [101] knave to my master, that ever gentleman had!

ABIGAIL. Say, knave, why rail'st upon my father thus?

ITHAMORE. O, my master has the bravest policy!

ABIGAIL. Wherein?

ITHAMORE. Why, know you not?

ABIGAIL. Why, no.

ITHAMORE. Know you not of Mathia[s'] and Don Lodowick['s] disaster?

ABIGAIL. No: what was it?

ITHAMORE. Why, the devil inverted a challenge, my master writ it, and I carried it, first to Lodowick, and imprimis to Mathia[s]; And then they met, [and], as the story says, In doleful wise they ended both their days.

ABIGAIL. And was my father furtherer of their deaths?

ITHAMORE. Am I Ithamore?

ABIGAIL. Yes.

ITHAMORE. So sure did your father write, and I carry the challenge.

ABIGAIL. Well, Ithamore, let me request thee this; Go to the new-made nunnery, and inquire For any of the friars of Saint Jaques, [102] And say, I pray them come and speak with me.

ITHAMORE. I pray, mistress, will you answer me to one question?

ABIGAIL. Well, sirrah, what is't?

ITHAMORE. A very feeling one: have not the nuns fine sport with the friars now and then?

ABIGAIL. Go to, Sirrah Sauce! is this your question? get ye gone.

ITHAMORE. I will, forsooth, mistress. [Exit.]

ABIGAIL. Hard-hearted father, unkind Barabas! Was this the pursuit of thy policy, To make me shew them favour severally, That by my favour they should both be slain? Admit thou lov'dst not Lodowick for his sire, [103] Yet Don Mathias ne'er offended thee: But thou wert set upon extreme revenge, Because the prior dispossess'd thee once, And couldst not venge it but upon his son; Nor on his son but by Mathias' means; Nor on Mathias but by murdering me: But I perceive there is no love on earth, Pity in Jews, nor piety in Turks.-- But here comes cursed Ithamore with the friar.

Re-enter ITHAMORE with FRIAR JACOMO.

FRIAR JACOMO. Virgo, salve.

ITHAMORE. When duck you?

ABIGAIL. Welcome, grave friar.--Ithamore, be gone. [Exit ITHAMORE.] Know, holy sir, I am bold to solicit thee.

FRIAR JACOMO. Wherein?

ABIGAIL. To get me be admitted for a nun.

FRIAR JACOMO. Why, Abigail, it is not yet long since That I did labour thy admission, And then thou didst not like that holy life.

ABIGAIL. Then were my thoughts so frail and unconfirm'd As [104] I was chain'd to follies of the world: But now experience, purchased with grief, Has made me see the difference of things. My sinful soul, alas, hath pac'd too long The fatal labyrinth of misbelief, Far from the sun that gives eternal life!

FRIAR JACOMO. Who taught thee this?

ABIGAIL. The abbess of the house, Whose zealous admonition I embrace: O, therefore, Jacomo, let me be one, Although unworthy, of that sisterhood!

FRIAR JACOMO. Abigail, I will: but see thou change no more, For that will be most heavy to thy soul.

ABIGAIL. That was my father's fault.

FRIAR JACOMO. Thy father's! how?

ABIGAIL. Nay, you shall pardon me.--O Barabas, Though thou deservest hardly at my hands, Yet never shall these lips bewray thy life! [Aside.]

FRIAR JACOMO. Come, shall we go?

ABIGAIL. My duty waits on you. [Exeunt.]

Enter BARABAS, [105] reading a letter.

BARABAS. What, Abigail become a nun again! False and unkind! what, hast thou lost thy father? And, all unknown and unconstrain'd of me, Art thou again got to the nunnery? Now here she writes, and wills me to repent: Repentance! Spurca! what pretendeth [106] this? I fear she knows--'tis so--of my device In Don Mathias' and Lodovico's deaths: If so, 'tis time that it be seen into; For she that varies from me in belief, Gives great presumption that she loves me not, Or, loving, doth dislike of something done.-- But who comes here?

Enter ITHAMORE.

O Ithamore, come near; Come near, my love; come near, thy master's life, My trusty servant, nay, my second self; [107] For I have now no hope but even in thee, And on that hope my happiness is built. When saw'st thou Abigail?

ITHAMORE. To-day.

BARABAS. With whom?

ITHAMORE. A friar.

BARABAS. A friar! false villain, he hath done the deed.

ITHAMORE. How, sir!

BARABAS. Why, made mine Abigail a nun.

ITHAMORE. That's no lie; for she sent me for him.

BARABAS. O unhappy day! False, credulous, inconstant Abigail! But let 'em go: and, Ithamore, from hence Ne'er shall she grieve me more with her disgrace; Ne'er shall she live to inherit aught of mine, Be bless'd of me, nor come within my gates, But perish underneath my bitter curse, Like Cain by Adam for his brother's death.

ITHAMORE. O master--

BARABAS. Ithamore, entreat not for her; I am mov'd, And she is hateful to my soul and me: And, 'less [108] thou yield to this that I entreat, I cannot think but that thou hat'st my life.

ITHAMORE. Who, I, master? why, I'll run to some rock, And throw myself headlong into the sea; Why, I'll do any thing for your sweet sake.

BARABAS. O trusty Ithamore! no servant, but my friend! I here adopt thee for mine only heir: All that I have is thine when I am dead; And, whilst I live, use half; spend as myself; Here, take my keys,--I'll give 'em thee anon; Go buy thee garments; but thou shalt not want: Only know this, that thus thou art to do-- But first go fetch me in the pot of rice That for our supper stands upon the fire.

ITHAMORE. I hold my head, my master's hungry [Aside].--I go, sir. [Exit.]

BARABAS. Thus every villain ambles after wealth, Although he ne'er be richer than in hope:-- But, husht!

Re-enter ITHAMORE with the pot.

ITHAMORE. Here 'tis, master.

BARABAS. Well said, [109] Ithamore! What, hast thou brought The ladle with thee too?

ITHAMORE. Yes, sir; the proverb says, [110] he that eats with the devil had need of a long spoon; I have brought you a ladle.

BARABAS. Very well, Ithamore; then now be secret; And, for thy sake, whom I so dearly love, Now shalt thou see the death of Abigail, That thou mayst freely live to be my heir.

ITHAMORE. Why, master, will you poison her with a mess of rice- porridge? that will preserve life, make her round and plump, and batten [111] more than you are aware.

BARABAS. Ay, but, Ithamore, seest thou this? It is a precious powder that I bought Of an Italian, in Ancona, once, Whose operation is to bind, infect, And poison deeply, yet not appear In forty hours after it is ta'en.

ITHAMORE. How, master?

BARABAS. Thus, Ithamore: This even they use in Malta here,--'tis call'd Saint Jaques' Even,--and then, I say, they use To send their alms unto the nunneries: Among the rest, bear this, and set it there: There's a dark entry where they take it in, Where they must neither see the messenger, Nor make inquiry who hath sent it them.

ITHAMORE. How so?