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?
BARABAS. Belike there is some ceremony in’t. There, Ithamore, must thou go place this pot:<112> Stay; let me spice it first.
ITHAMORE. Pray, do, and let me help you, master. Pray, let me taste first.
BARABAS. Prithee, do.[ITHAMORE tastes.] What say’st thou now?
ITHAMORE. Troth, master, I’m loath such a pot of pottage should be spoiled.
BARABAS. Peace, Ithamore! ’tis better so than spar’d. [Puts the powder into the pot.]
Assure thyself thou shalt have broth by the eye:<113> My purse, my coffer, and myself is thine.
ITHAMORE. Well, master, I go.
BARABAS. Stay; first let me stir it, Ithamore. As fatal be it to her as the draught
Of which great Alexander drunk, and died; And with her let it work like Borgia’s wine, Whereof his sire the Pope was poisoned!
In few,<114> the blood of Hydra, Lerna’s bane, The juice of hebon,<115> and Cocytus’ breath, And all the poisons of the Stygian pool, Break from the fiery kingdom, and in this Vomit your venom, and envenom her
That, like a fiend, hath left her father thus!
ITHAMORE. What a blessing has he given’t! was ever pot of rice-porridge so sauced? [Aside].–What shall I do with it?
BARABAS. O my sweet Ithamore, go set it down; And come again so soon as thou hast done, For I have other business for thee.
ITHAMORE. Here’s a drench to poison a whole stable of Flanders mares: I’ll carry’t to the nuns with a powder.
BARABAS. And the horse-pestilence to boot: away!
ITHAMORE. I am gone:
Pay me my wages, for my work is done. [Exit with the pot.]
BARABAS. I’ll pay thee with a vengeance, Ithamore! [Exit.]
Enter FERNEZE,<116> MARTIN DEL BOSCO, KNIGHTS, and BASSO.
FERNEZE. Welcome, great basso:<117> how fares Calymath? What wind drives you thus into Malta-road?
BASSO. The wind that bloweth all the world besides, Desire of gold.
FERNEZE. Desire of gold, great sir!
That’s to be gotten in the Western Inde: In Malta are no golden minerals.
BASSO. To you of Malta thus saith Calymath: The time you took for respite is at hand For the performance of your promise pass’d; And for the tribute-money I am sent.
FERNEZE. Basso, in brief, shalt have no tribute here, Nor shall the heathens live upon our spoil: First will we raze the city-walls ourselves, Lay waste the island, hew the temples down, And, shipping off our goods to Sicily,
Open an entrance for the wasteful sea, Whose billows, beating the resistless banks,<118> Shall overflow it with their refluence.
BASSO. Well, governor, since thou hast broke the league By flat denial of the promis’d tribute,
Talk not of razing down your city-walls; You shall not need trouble yourselves so far, For Selim Calymath shall come himself,
And with brass bullets batter down your towers, And turn proud Malta to a wilderness,
For these intolerable wrongs of yours: And so, farewell.
FERNEZE. Farewell.
[Exit BASSO.]
And now, you men of Malta, look about, And let’s provide to welcome Calymath:
Close your port-cullis, charge your basilisks,<119> And, as you profitably take up arms,
So now courageously encounter them, For by this answer broken is the league, And naught is to be look’d for now but wars, And naught to us more welcome is than wars. [Exeunt.]
Enter FRIAR JACOMO<120> and FRIAR BARNARDINE.
FRIAR JACOMO. O brother, brother, all the nuns are sick, And physic will not help them! they must die.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. The abbess sent for me to be confess’d: O, what a sad confession will there be!
FRIAR JACOMO. And so did fair Maria send for me: I’ll to her lodging; hereabouts she lies. [Exit.]
Enter ABIGAIL.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. What, all dead, save only Abigail!
ABIGAIL. And I shall die too, for I feel death coming. Where is the friar that convers’d with me?<121>
FRIAR BARNARDINE. O, he is gone to see the other nuns.
ABIGAIL. I sent for him; but, seeing you are come, Be you my ghostly father: and first know, That in this house I liv’d religiously,
Chaste, and devout, much sorrowing for my sins; But, ere I came–
FRIAR BARNARDINE. What then?
ABIGAIL. I did offend high heaven so grievously As I am almost desperate for my sins;
And one offense torments me more than all. You knew Mathias and Don Lodowick?
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Yes; what of them?
ABIGAIL. My father did contract me to ’em both; First to Don Lodowick: him I never lov’d; Mathias was the man that I held dear,
And for his sake did I become a nun.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. So: say how was their end?
ABIGAIL. Both, jealous of my love, envied<122> each other; And by my father’s practice,<123> which is there [Gives writing.]
Set down at large, the gallants were both slain.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. O, monstrous villany!
ABIGAIL. To work my peace, this I confess to thee: Reveal it not; for then my father dies.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Know that confession must not be reveal’d; The canon-law forbids it, and the priest That makes it known, being degraded first, Shall be condemn’d, and then sent to the fire.
ABIGAIL. So I have heard; pray, therefore, keep it close. Death seizeth on my heart: ah, gentle friar, Convert my father that he may be sav’d,
And witness that I die a Christian! [Dies.]
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Ay, and a virgin too; that grieves me most. But I must to the Jew, and exclaim on him, And make him stand in fear of me.
Re-enter FRIAR JACOMO.
FRIAR JACOMO. O brother, all the nuns are dead! let’s bury them.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. First help to bury this; then go with me, And help me to exclaim against the Jew.
FRIAR JACOMO. Why, what has he done?
FRIAR BARNARDINE. A thing that makes me tremble to unfold.
FRIAR JACOMO. What, has he crucified a child?<124>
FRIAR BARNARDINE. No, but a worse thing: ’twas told me in shrift; Thou know’st ’tis death, an if it be reveal’d. Come, let’s away.
[Exeunt.]
ACT IV.
Enter BARABAS<125> and ITHAMORE. Bells within.
BARABAS. There is no music to<126> a Christian’s knell: How sweet the bells ring, now the nuns are dead, That sound at other times like tinkers’ pans! I was afraid the poison had not wrought, Or, though it wrought, it would have done no good, For every year they swell, and yet they live: Now all are dead, not one remains alive.
ITHAMORE.
That’s brave, master: but think you it will not be known?
BARABAS. How can it, if we two be secret?
ITHAMORE. For my part, fear you not.
BARABAS. I’d cut thy throat, if I did.
ITHAMORE. And reason too.
But here’s a royal monastery hard by; Good master, let me poison all the monks.
BARABAS. Thou shalt not need; for, now the nuns are dead, They’ll die with grief.
ITHAMORE. Do you not sorrow for your daughter’s death?
BARABAS. No, but I grieve because she liv’d so long, An Hebrew born, and would become a Christian: Cazzo,<127> diabolo!
ITHAMORE.
Look, look, master; here come two religious caterpillars.
Enter FRIAR JACOMO and FRIAR BARNARDINE.
BARABAS. I smelt ’em ere they came.
ITHAMORE. God-a-mercy, nose!<128> Come, let’s begone.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Stay, wicked Jew; repent, I say, and stay.
FRIAR JACOMO. Thou hast offended, therefore must be damn’d.
BARABAS. I fear they know we sent the poison’d broth.
ITHAMORE. And so do I, master; therefore speak ’em fair.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Barabas, thou hast–
FRIAR JACOMO. Ay, that thou hast–
BARABAS. True, I have money; what though I have?
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Thou art a–
FRIAR JACOMO. Ay, that thou art, a–
BARABAS. What needs all this? I know I am a Jew.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Thy daughter–
FRIAR JACOMO. Ay, thy daughter–
BARABAS. O, speak not of her! then I die with grief.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Remember that–
FRIAR JACOMO. Ay, remember that–
BARABAS. I must needs say that I have been a great usurer.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Thou hast committed–
BARABAS. Fornication: but that was in another country; And besides, the wench is dead.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Ay, but, Barabas,
Remember Mathias and Don Lodowick.
BARABAS. Why, what of them?
FRIAR BARNARDINE.
I will not say that by a forged challenge they met.
BARABAS. She has confess’d, and we are both undone, My bosom inmate!<129> but I must dissemble.– [Aside to ITHAMORE.]
O holy friars, the burden of my sins Lie heavy<130> on my soul! then, pray you, tell me, Is’t not too late now to turn Christian? I have been zealous in the Jewish faith, Hard-hearted to the poor, a covetous wretch, That would for lucre’s sake have sold my soul; A hundred for a hundred I have ta’en;
And now for store of wealth may I compare With all the Jews in Malta: but what is wealth? I am a Jew, and therefore am I lost.
Would penance serve [to atone] for this my sin, I could afford to whip myself to death,–
ITHAMORE. And so could I; but penance will not serve.
BARABAS. To fast, to pray, and wear a shirt of hair, And on my knees creep to Jerusalem.
Cellars of wine, and sollars<131> full of wheat, Warehouses stuff’d with spices and with drugs, Whole chests of gold in bullion and in coin, Besides, I know not how much weight in pearl Orient and round, have I within my house; At Alexandria merchandise untold;<132> But yesterday two ships went from this town, Their voyage will be worth ten thousand crowns; In Florence, Venice, Antwerp, London, Seville, Frankfort, Lubeck, Moscow, and where not, Have I debts owing; and, in most of these, Great sums of money lying in the banco;
All this I’ll give to some religious house, So I may be baptiz’d, and live therein.
FRIAR JACOMO. O good Barabas, come to our house!
FRIAR BARNARDINE. O, no, good Barabas, come to our house! And, Barabas, you know–
BARABAS. I know that I have highly sinn’d: You shall convert me, you shall have all my wealth.
FRIAR JACOMO. O Barabas, their laws are strict!
BARABAS. I know they are; and I will be with you.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. They wear no shirts, and they go bare-foot too.
BARABAS. Then ’tis not for me; and I am resolv’d You shall confess me, and have all my goods.
FRIAR JACOMO. Good Barabas, come to me.
BARABAS. You see I answer him, and yet he stays; Rid him away, and go you home with me.
FRIAR JACOMO. I’ll be with you to-night.
BARABAS. Come to my house at one o’clock this night.
FRIAR JACOMO. You hear your answer, and you may be gone.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Why, go, get you away.
FRIAR JACOMO. I will not go for thee.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Not! then I’ll make thee go.
FRIAR JACOMO. How! dost call me rogue?
[They fight.]
ITHAMORE. Part ’em, master, part ’em.
BARABAS. This is mere frailty: brethren, be content.– Friar Barnardine, go you with Ithamore:
You know my mind; let me alone with him.
FRIAR JACOMO. Why does he go to thy house? let him be gone.<133>
BARABAS. I’ll give him something, and so stop his mouth. [Exit ITHAMORE with Friar BARNARDINE.] I never heard of any man but he
Malign’d the order of the Jacobins: But do you think that I believe his words? Why, brother, you converted Abigail;
And I am bound in charity to requite it, And so I will. O Jacomo, fail not, but come.
FRIAR JACOMO. But, Barabas, who shall be your godfathers? For presently you shall be shriv’d.
BARABAS. Marry, the Turk<134> shall be one of my godfathers, But not a word to any of your covent.<135>
FRIAR JACOMO. I warrant thee, Barabas. [Exit.]
BARABAS. So, now the fear is past, and I am safe; For he that shriv’d her is within my house: What, if I murder’d him ere Jacomo comes? Now I have such a plot for both their lives, As never Jew nor Christian knew the like: One turn’d my daughter, therefore he shall die; The other knows enough to have my life,
Therefore ’tis not requisite he should live.<136> But are not both these wise men, to suppose That I will leave my house, my goods, and all, To fast and be well whipt? I’ll none of that. Now, Friar Barnardine, I come to you:
I’ll feast you, lodge you, give you fair<137> words, And, after that, I and my trusty Turk–
No more, but so: it must and shall be done.<138>
Enter ITHAMORE.
Ithamore, tell me, is the friar asleep?
ITHAMORE. Yes; and I know not what the reason is, Do what I can, he will not strip himself, Nor go to bed, but sleeps in his own clothes: I fear me he mistrusts what we intend.
BARABAS. No; ’tis an order which the friars use: Yet, if he knew our meanings, could he scape?
ITHAMORE. No, none can hear him, cry he ne’er so loud.
BARABAS. Why, true; therefore did I place him there: The other chambers open towards the street.
ITHAMORE. You loiter, master; wherefore stay we thus? O, how I long to see him shake his heels!
BARABAS. Come on, sirrah:
Off with your girdle; make a handsome noose.– [ITHAMORE takes off his girdle, and ties a noose on it.] Friar, awake!<139>
[They put the noose round the FRIAR’S neck.]
FRIAR BARNARDINE. What, do you mean to strangle me?
ITHAMORE. Yes, ’cause you use to confess.
BARABAS. Blame not us, but the proverb,–Confess and be hanged.–Pull hard.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. What, will you have<140> my life?
BARABAS. Pull hard, I say.–You would have had my goods.
ITHAMORE. Ay, and our lives too:–therefore pull amain. [They strangle the FRIAR.]
‘Tis neatly done, sir; here’s no print at all.
BARABAS. Then is it as it should be. Take him up.
ITHAMORE. Nay, master, be ruled by me a little. [Takes the body, sets it upright against the wall, and puts a staff in its hand.] So, let him lean upon his staff; excellent! he stands as if he were begging of bacon.
BARABAS. Who would not think but that this friar liv’d? What time o’ night is’t now, sweet Ithamore?
ITHAMORE. Towards one.<141>
BARABAS. Then will not Jacomo be long from hence. [Exeunt.]
Enter FRIAR JACOMO.<142>
FRIAR JACOMO. This is the hour wherein I shall proceed;<143> O happy hour, wherein I shall convert
An infidel, and bring his gold into our treasury! But soft! is not this Barnardine? it is; And, understanding I should come this way, Stands here o’ purpose, meaning me some wrong, And intercept my going to the Jew.–
Barnardine!
Wilt thou not speak? thou think’st I see thee not; Away, I’d wish thee, and let me go by:
No, wilt thou not? nay, then, I’ll force my way; And, see, a staff stands ready for the purpose. As thou lik’st that, stop me another time! [Takes the staff, and strikes down the body.]
Enter BARABAS and ITHAMORE.
BARABAS. Why, how now, Jacomo! what hast thou done?
FRIAR JACOMO. Why, stricken him that would have struck at me.
BARABAS. Who is it? Barnardine! now, out, alas, he is slain!
ITHAMORE. Ay, master, he’s slain; look how his brains drop out on’s<144> nose.
FRIAR JACOMO. Good sirs, I have done’t: but nobody knows it but you two; I may escape.
BARABAS. So might my man and I hang with you for company.
ITHAMORE. No; let us bear him to the magistrates.
FRIAR JACOMO. Good Barabas, let me go.
BARABAS. No, pardon me; the law must have his course: I must be forc’d to give in evidence,
That, being importun’d by this Barnardine To be a Christian, I shut him out,
And there he sate: now I, to keep my word, And give my goods and substance to your house, Was up thus early, with intent to go
Unto your friary, because you stay’d.
ITHAMORE. Fie upon ’em! master, will you turn Christian, when holy friars turn devils and murder one another?
BARABAS. No; for this example I’ll remain a Jew: Heaven bless me! what, a friar a murderer! When shall you see a Jew commit the like?
ITHAMORE. Why, a Turk could ha’ done no more.
BARABAS. To-morrow is the sessions; you shall to it.– Come, Ithamore, let’s help to take him hence.
FRIAR JACOMO. Villains, I am a sacred person; touch me not.
BARABAS. The law shall touch you; we’ll but lead you, we: ‘Las, I could weep at your calamity!–
Take in the staff too, for that must be shown: Law wills that each particular be known. [Exeunt.]
Enter BELLAMIRA<145> and PILIA-BORZA.
BELLAMIRA. Pilia-Borza, didst thou meet with Ithamore?
PILIA-BORZA. I did.
BELLAMIRA. And didst thou deliver my letter?
PILIA-BORZA. I did.
BELLAMIRA. And what thinkest thou? will he come?
PILIA-BORZA. I think so: and yet I cannot tell; for, at the reading of the letter, he looked like a man of another world.
BELLAMIRA. Why so?
PILIA-BORZA. That such a base slave as he should be saluted by such a tall<146> man as I am, from such a beautiful dame as you.
BELLAMIRA. And what said he?
PILIA-BORZA. Not a wise word; only gave me a nod, as who should say, “Is it even so?” and so I left him, being driven to a non-plus at the critical aspect of my terrible countenance.
BELLAMIRA. And where didst meet him?
PILIA-BORZA. Upon mine own free-hold, within forty foot of the gallows, conning his neck-verse,<147> I take it, looking of<148> a friar’s execution; whom I saluted with an old hempen proverb, Hodie tibi, cras mihi, and so I left him to the mercy of the hangman: but, the exercise<149> being done, see where he comes.
Enter ITHAMORE.
ITHAMORE. I never knew a man take his death so patiently as this friar; he was ready to leap off ere the halter was about his neck; and, when the hangman had put on his hempen tippet, he made such haste to his prayers, as if he had had another cure to serve. Well, go whither he will, I’ll be none of his followers in haste: and, now I think on’t, going to the execution, a fellow met me with a muschatoes<150> like a raven’s wing, and a dagger with a hilt like a warming-pan; and he gave me a letter from one Madam Bellamira, saluting me in such sort as if he had meant to make clean my boots with his lips; the effect was, that I should come to her house: I wonder what the reason is; it may be she sees more in me than I can find in myself; for she writes further, that she loves me ever since she saw me; and who would not requite such love? Here’s her house; and here she comes; and now would I were gone! I am not worthy to look upon her.
PILIA-BORZA. This is the gentleman you writ to.
ITHAMORE. Gentleman! he flouts me: what gentry can be in a poor Turk of tenpence?<151> I’ll be gone. [Aside.]
BELLAMIRA. Is’t not a sweet-faced youth, Pilia?
ITHAMORE. Again, sweet youth! [Aside.]–Did not you, sir, bring the sweet youth a letter?
PILIA-BORZA. I did, sir, and from this gentlewoman, who, as myself and the rest of the family, stand or fall at your service.
BELLAMIRA. Though woman’s modesty should hale me back, I can withhold no longer: welcome, sweet love.
ITHAMORE. Now am I clean, or rather foully, out of the way. [Aside.]
BELLAMIRA. Whither so soon?
ITHAMORE. I’ll go steal some money from my master to make me handsome [Aside].–Pray, pardon me; I must go see a ship discharged.
BELLAMIRA. Canst thou be so unkind to leave me thus?
PILIA-BORZA. An ye did but know how she loves you, sir!
ITHAMORE. Nay, I care not how much she loves me.–Sweet Bellamira, would I had my master’s wealth for thy sake!
PILIA-BORZA. And you can have it, sir, an if you please.
ITHAMORE. If ’twere above ground, I could, and would have it; but he hides and buries it up, as partridges do their eggs, under the earth.
PILIA-BORZA. And is’t not possible to find it out?
ITHAMORE. By no means possible.
BELLAMIRA. What shall we do with this base villain, then? [Aside to PILIA-BORZA.]
PILIA-BORZA. Let me alone; do but you speak him fair.– [Aside to her.]
But you know<152> some secrets of the Jew, Which, if they were reveal’d, would do him harm.
ITHAMORE. Ay, and such as–go to, no more! I’ll make him<153> send me half he has, and glad he scapes so too: I’ll write unto him; we’ll have money straight.
PILIA-BORZA. Send for a hundred crowns at least.
ITHAMORE. Ten hundred thousand crowns.–[writing] MASTER BARABAS,–
PILIA-BORZA. Write not so submissively, but threatening him.
ITHAMORE. [writing] SIRRAH BARABAS, SEND ME A HUNDRED CROWNS.
PILIA-BORZA. Put in two hundred at least.
ITHAMORE. [writing] I CHARGE THEE SEND ME THREE HUNDRED BY THIS BEARER, AND THIS SHALL BE YOUR WARRANT: IF YOU DO NOT–NO MORE, BUT SO.
PILIA-BORZA. Tell him you will confess.
ITHAMORE. [writing] OTHERWISE I’LL CONFESS ALL.– Vanish, and return in a twinkle.
PILIA-BORZA. Let me alone; I’ll use him in his kind.
ITHAMORE. Hang him, Jew!
[Exit PILIA-BORZA with the letter.]
BELLAMIRA. Now, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap.– Where are my maids? provide a cunning<154> banquet; Send to the merchant, bid him bring me silks; Shall Ithamore, my love, go in such rags?
ITHAMORE. And bid the jeweller come hither too.
BELLAMIRA. I have no husband; sweet, I’ll marry thee.
ITHAMORE. Content: but we will leave this paltry land, And sail from hence to Greece, to lovely Greece;– I’ll be thy Jason, thou my golden fleece;– Where painted carpets o’er the meads are hurl’d, And Bacchus’ vineyards overspread the world; Where woods and forests go in goodly green;– I’ll be Adonis, thou shalt be Love’s Queen;– The meads, the orchards, and the primrose-lanes, Instead of sedge and reed, bear sugar-canes: Thou in those groves, by Dis above,
Shalt live with me, and be my love.<155>
BELLAMIRA. Whither will I not go with gentle Ithamore?
Re-enter PILIA-BORZA.
ITHAMORE. How now! hast thou the gold
PILIA-BORZA. Yes.
ITHAMORE. But came it freely? did the cow give down her milk freely?
PILIA-BORZA. At reading of the letter, he stared and stamped, and turned aside: I took him by the beard,<156> and looked upon him thus; told him he were best to send it: then he hugged and embraced me.
ITHAMORE. Rather for fear than love.
PILIA-BORZA. Then, like a Jew, he laughed and jeered, and told me he loved me for your sake, and said what a faithful servant you had been.
ITHAMORE. The more villain he to keep me thus: here’s goodly ‘parel, is there not?
PILIA-BORZA. To conclude, he gave me ten crowns. [Delivers the money to ITHAMORE.]
ITHAMORE. But ten? I’ll not leave him worth a grey groat. Give me a ream of paper: we’ll have a kingdom of gold for’t.<157>
PILIA-BORZA. Write for five hundred crowns.
ITHAMORE. [writing] SIRRAH JEW, AS YOU LOVE YOUR LIFE, SEND ME FIVE HUNDRED CROWNS, AND GIVE THE BEARER A HUNDRED.–Tell him I must have’t.
PILIA-BORZA. I warrant, your worship shall have’t.
ITHAMORE. And, if he ask why I demand so much, tell him I scorn to write a line under a hundred crowns.
PILIA-BORZA. You’d make a rich poet, sir. I am gone. [Exit with the letter.]
ITHAMORE. Take thou the money; spend it for my sake.
BELLAMIRA. ‘Tis not thy money, but thyself I weigh: Thus Bellamira esteems of gold;
[Throws it aside.]
But thus of thee.
[Kisses him.]
ITHAMORE. That kiss again!–She runs division<158> of my lips. What an eye she casts on me! it twinkles like a star. [Aside.]
BELLAMIRA. Come, my dear love, let’s in and sleep together.
ITHAMORE. O, that ten thousand nights were put in one, that we might sleep seven years together afore we wake!
BELLAMIRA. Come, amorous wag, first banquet, and then sleep. [Exeunt.]
Enter BARABAS,<159> reading a letter.
BARABAS. BARABAS, SEND ME THREE HUNDRED CROWNS;– Plain Barabas! O, that wicked courtezan! He was not wont to call me Barabas;–
OR ELSE I WILL CONFESS;–ay, there it goes: But, if I get him, coupe de gorge for that. He sent a shaggy, tatter’d,<160> staring slave, That, when he speaks, draws out his grisly beard, And winds it twice or thrice about his ear; Whose face has been a grind-stone for men’s swords; His hands are hack’d, some fingers cut quite off; Who, when he speaks, grunts like a hog, and looks Like one that is employ’d in catzery<161> And cross-biting;<162> such a rogue As is the husband to a hundred whores;
And I by him must send three hundred crowns. Well, my hope is, he will not stay there still; And, when he comes–O, that he were but here!
Enter PILIA-BORZA.
PILIA-BORZA. Jew, I must ha’ more gold.
BARABAS. Why, want’st thou any of thy tale?<163>
PILIA-BORZA. No; but three hundred will not serve his turn.
BARABAS. Not serve his turn, sir!
PILIA-BORZA.
No, sir; and therefore I must have five hundred more.
BARABAS. I’ll rather—-
PILIA-BORZA. O, good words, sir, and send it you were best! see, there’s his letter.
[Gives letter.]
BARABAS. Might he not as well come as send? pray, bid him come and fetch it: what he writes for you,<164> ye shall have straight.
PILIA-BORZA. Ay, and the rest too, or else—-
BARABAS. I must make this villain away [Aside].–Please you dine with me, sir–and you shall be most heartily poisoned. [Aside.]
PILIA-BORZA. No, God-a-mercy. Shall I have these crowns?
BARABAS. I cannot do it; I have lost my keys.
PILIA-BORZA. O, if that be all, I can pick ope your locks.
BARABAS.
Or climb up to my counting-house window: you know my meaning.
PILIA-BORZA. I know enough, and therefore talk not to me of your counting-house. The gold! or know, Jew, it is in my power to hang thee.
BARABAS. I am betray’d.–
[Aside.]
‘Tis not five hundred crowns that I esteem; I am not mov’d at that: this angers me,
That he, who knows I love him as myself, Should write in this imperious vein. Why, sir, You know I have no child, and unto whom
Should I leave all, but unto Ithamore?
PILIA-BORZA. Here’s many words, but no crowns: the crowns!
BARABAS. Commend me to him, sir, most humbly, And unto your good mistress as unknown.
PILIA-BORZA. Speak, shall I have ’em, sir?
BARABAS. Sir, here they are.–
[Gives money.]
O, that I should part<165> with so much gold!– [Aside.]
Here, take ’em, fellow, with as good a will—- As I would see thee hang’d [Aside]. O, love stops my breath! Never lov’d man servant as I do Ithamore.
PILIA-BORZA. I know it, sir.
BARABAS. Pray, when, sir, shall I see you at my house?
PILIA-BORZA. Soon enough to your cost, sir. Fare you well. [Exit.]
BARABAS. Nay, to thine own cost, villain, if thou com’st! Was ever Jew tormented as I am?
To have a shag-rag knave to come [force from me] Three hundred crowns, and then five hundred crowns! Well; I must seek a means to rid<166> ’em all, And presently; for in his villany
He will tell all he knows, and I shall die for’t. I have it:
I will in some disguise go see the slave, And how the villain revels with my gold. [Exit.]
Enter BELLAMIRA,<167> ITHAMORE, and PILIA-BORZA.
BELLAMIRA. I’ll pledge thee, love, and therefore drink it off.
ITHAMORE. Say’st thou me so? have at it! and do you hear? [Whispers to her.]
BELLAMIRA. Go to, it shall be so.
ITHAMORE. Of<168> that condition I will drink it up: Here’s to thee.
BELLAMIRA.<169> Nay, I’ll have all or none.
ITHAMORE. There, if thou lov’st me, do not leave a drop.
BELLAMIRA. Love thee! fill me three glasses.
ITHAMORE. Three and fifty dozen: I’ll pledge thee.
PILIA-BORZA. Knavely spoke, and like a knight-at-arms.
ITHAMORE. Hey, Rivo Castiliano!<170> a man’s a man.
BELLAMIRA. Now to the Jew.
ITHAMORE. Ha! to the Jew; and send me money he<171> were best.
PILIA-BORZA. What wouldst thou do, if he should send thee none?
ITHAMORE. Do nothing: but I know what I know; he’s a murderer.
BELLAMIRA. I had not thought he had been so brave a man.
ITHAMORE. You knew Mathias and the governor’s son; he and I killed ’em both, and yet never touched ’em.
PILIA-BORZA. O, bravely done!
ITHAMORE. I carried the broth that poisoned the nuns; and he and I, snicle hand too fast, strangled a friar.<172>
BELLAMIRA. You two alone?
ITHAMORE.
We two; and ’twas never known, nor never shall be for me.
PILIA-BORZA. This shall with me unto the governor. [Aside to BELLAMIRA.]
BELLAMIRA. And fit it should: but first let’s ha’ more gold.– [Aside to PILIA-BORZA.]
Come, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap.
ITHAMORE. Love me little, love me long: let music rumble, Whilst I in thy incony<173> lap do tumble.
Enter BARABAS, disguised as a French musician, with a lute, and a nosegay in his hat.
BELLAMIRA. A French musician!–Come, let’s hear your skill.
BARABAS. Must tuna my lute for sound, twang, twang, first.
ITHAMORE. Wilt drink, Frenchman? here’s to thee with a–Pox on this drunken hiccup!
BARABAS. Gramercy, monsieur.
BELLAMIRA. Prithee, Pilia-Borza, bid the fiddler give me the posy in his hat there.
PILIA-BORZA. Sirrah, you must give my mistress your posy.
BARABAS. A votre commandement, madame. [Giving nosegay.]
BELLAMIRA. How sweet, my Ithamore, the flowers smell!
ITHAMORE. Like thy breath, sweetheart; no violet like ’em.
PILIA-BORZA. Foh! methinks they stink like a hollyhock.<174>
BARABAS. So, now I am reveng’d upon ’em all: The scent thereof was death; I poison’d it. [Aside.]
ITHAMORE.
Play, fiddler, or I’ll cut your cat’s guts into chitterlings.
BARABAS.
Pardonnez moi, be no in tune yet: so, now, now all be in.
ITHAMORE. Give him a crown, and fill me out more wine.
PILIA-BORZA. There’s two crowns for thee: play. [Giving money.]
BARABAS. How liberally the villain gives me mine own gold! [Aside, and then plays.]
PILIA-BORZA. Methinks he fingers very well.
BARABAS. So did you when you stole my gold. [Aside.]
PILIA-BORZA. How swift he runs!
BARABAS. You run swifter when you threw my gold out of my window. [Aside.]
BELLAMIRA. Musician, hast been in Malta long?
BARABAS. Two, three, four month, madam.
ITHAMORE. Dost not know a Jew, one Barabas?
BARABAS. Very mush: monsieur, you no be his man?
PILIA-BORZA. His man!
ITHAMORE. I scorn the peasant: tell him so.
BARABAS. He knows it already.
[Aside.]
ITHAMORE. ‘Tis a strange thing of that Jew, he lives upon pickled grasshoppers and sauced mushrooms.<175>
BARABAS. What a slave’s this! the governor feeds not as I do. [Aside.]
ITHAMORE. He never put on clean shirt since he was circumcised.
BARABAS. O rascal! I change myself twice a-day. [Aside.]
ITHAMORE. The hat he wears, Judas left under the elder when he hanged himself.<176>
BARABAS. ‘Twas sent me for a present from the Great Cham. [Aside.]
PILIA-BORZA. A nasty<177> slave he is.–Whither now, fiddler?
BARABAS. Pardonnez moi, monsieur; me<178> be no well.
PILIA-BORZA. Farewell, fiddler [Exit BARABAS.] One letter more to the Jew.
BELLAMIRA. Prithee, sweet love, one more, and write it sharp.
ITHAMORE. No, I’ll send by word of mouth now. –Bid him deliver thee a thousand crowns, by the same token that the nuns loved rice, that Friar Barnardine slept in his own clothes; any of ’em will do it.
PILIA-BORZA. Let me alone to urge it, now I know the meaning.
ITHAMORE. The meaning has a meaning. Come, let’s in: To undo a Jew is charity, and not sin.
[Exeunt.]
ACT V.
Enter FERNEZE,<179> KNIGHTS, MARTIN DEL BOSCO, and OFFICERS.
FERNEZE. Now, gentlemen, betake you to your arms, And see that Malta be well fortified;
And it behoves you to be resolute;
For Calymath, having hover’d here so long, Will win the town, or die before the walls.
FIRST KNIGHT. And die he shall; for we will never yield.
Enter BELLAMIRA and PILIA-BORZA.
BELLAMIRA. O, bring us to the governor!
FERNEZE. Away with her! she is a courtezan.
BELLAMIRA. Whate’er I am, yet, governor, hear me speak: I bring thee news by whom thy son was slain: Mathias did it not; it was the Jew.
PILIA-BORZA. Who, besides the slaughter of these gentlemen, Poison’d his own daughter and the nuns,
Strangled a friar, and I know not what Mischief beside.
FERNEZE. Had we but proof of this—-
BELLAMIRA. Strong proof, my lord: his man’s now at my lodging, That was his agent; he’ll confess it all.
FERNEZE. Go fetch him<180> straight [Exeunt OFFICERS]. I always fear’d that Jew.
Re-enter OFFICERS with BARABAS and ITHAMORE.
BARABAS. I’ll go alone; dogs, do not hale me thus.
ITHAMORE.
Nor me neither; I cannot out-run you, constable.–O, my belly!
BARABAS. One dram of powder more had made all sure: What a damn’d slave was I!
[Aside.]
FERNEZE. Make fires, heat irons, let the rack be fetch’d.
FIRST KNIGHT. Nay, stay, my lord; ‘t may be he will confess.
BARABAS. Confess! what mean you, lords? who should confess?
FERNEZE. Thou and thy Turk; ’twas that slew my son.
ITHAMORE. Guilty, my lord, I confess. Your son and Mathias were both contracted unto Abigail: [he] forged a counterfeit challenge.
BARABAS. Who carried that challenge?
ITHAMORE.
I carried it, I confess; but who writ it? marry, even he that strangled Barnardine, poisoned the nuns and his own daughter.
FERNEZE. Away with him! his sight is death to me.
BARABAS. For what, you men of Malta? hear me speak. She is a courtezan, and he a thief,
And he my bondman: let me have law; For none of this can prejudice my life.
FERNEZE. Once more, away with him!–You shall have law.
BARABAS. Devils, do your worst!–I[‘ll] live in spite of you.– [Aside.]
As these have spoke, so be it to their souls!– I hope the poison’d flowers will work anon. [Aside.]
[Exeunt OFFICERS with BARABAS and ITHAMORE; BELLAMIRA, and PILIA-BORZA.]
Enter KATHARINE.
KATHARINE. Was my Mathias murder’d by the Jew? Ferneze, ’twas thy son that murder’d him.
FERNEZE. Be patient, gentle madam: it was he; He forg’d the daring challenge made them fight.
KATHARINE. Where is the Jew? where is that murderer?
FERNEZE. In prison, till the law has pass’d on him.
Re-enter FIRST OFFICER.
FIRST OFFICER. My lord, the courtezan and her man are dead; So is the Turk and Barabas the Jew.
FERNEZE. Dead!
FIRST OFFICER. Dead, my lord, and here they bring his body.
MARTIN DEL BOSCO. This sudden death of his is very strange.
Re-enter OFFICERS, carrying BARABAS as dead.
FERNEZE. Wonder not at it, sir; the heavens are just; Their deaths were like their lives; then think not of ’em.– Since they are dead, let them be buried: For the Jew’s body, throw that o’er the walls, To be a prey for vultures and wild beasts.– So, now away and fortify the town.
[Exeunt all, leaving BARABAS on the floor.<181>]
BARABAS. [rising] What, all alone! well fare, sleepy drink! I’ll be reveng’d on this accursed town;
For by my means Calymath shall enter in: I’ll help to slay their children and their wives, To fire the churches, pull their houses down, Take my goods too, and seize upon my lands. I hope to see the governor a slave,
And, rowing in a galley, whipt to death.
Enter CALYMATH, BASSOES,<182> and TURKS.
CALYMATH. Whom have we there? a spy?
BARABAS. Yes, my good lord, one that can spy a place Where you may enter, and surprize the town: My name is Barabas; I am a Jew.
CALYMATH. Art thou that Jew whose goods we heard were sold For tribute-money?
BARABAS. The very same, my lord:
And since that time they have hir’d a slave, my man, To accuse me of a thousand villanies:
I was imprisoned, but scap<‘>d their hands.
CALYMATH. Didst break prison?
BARABAS. No, no:
I drank of poppy and cold mandrake juice; And being asleep, belike they thought me dead, And threw me o’er the walls: so, or how else, The Jew is here, and rests at your command.
CALYMATH. ‘Twas bravely done: but tell me, Barabas, Canst thou, as thou report’st, make Malta ours?
BARABAS. Fear not, my lord; for here, against the trench,<183> The rock is hollow, and of purpose digg’d, To make a passage for the running streams And common channels<184> of the city. Now, whilst you give assault unto the walls, I’ll lead five hundred soldiers through the vault, And rise with them i’ the middle of the town, Open the gates for you to enter in;
And by this means the city is your own.
CALYMATH. If this be true, I’ll make thee governor.
BARABAS. And, if it be not true, then let me die.
CALYMATH. Thou’st doom’d thyself.–Assault it presently. [Exeunt.]
Alarums within. Enter CALYMATH,<185> BASSOES, TURKS, and BARABAS; with FERNEZE and KNIGHTS prisoners.
CALYMATH. Now vail<186> your pride, you captive Christians, And kneel for mercy to your conquering foe: Now where’s the hope you had of haughty Spain? Ferneze, speak; had it not been much better To kept<187> thy promise than be thus surpris’d?
FERNEZE. What should I say? we are captives, and must yield.
CALYMATH. Ay, villains, you must yield, and under Turkish yokes Shall groaning bear the burden of our ire:– And, Barabas, as erst we promis’d thee,
For thy desert we make thee governor; Use them at thy discretion.
BARABAS. Thanks, my lord.
FERNEZE. O fatal day, to fall into the hands Of such a traitor and unhallow’d Jew!
What greater misery could heaven inflict?
CALYMATH. ‘Tis our command:–and, Barabas, we give, To guard thy person, these our Janizaries: Entreat<188> them well, as we have used thee.– And now, brave bassoes,<189> come; we’ll walk about The ruin’d town, and see the wreck we made.– Farewell, brave Jew, farewell, great Barabas!
BARABAS. May all good fortune follow Calymath! [Exeunt CALYMATH and BASSOES.]
And now, as entrance to our safety, To prison with the governor and these
Captains, his consorts and confederates.
FERNEZE. O villain! heaven will be reveng’d on thee.
BARABAS. Away! no more; let him not trouble me. [Exeunt TURKS with FERNEZE and KNIGHTS.] Thus hast thou gotten,<190> by thy policy, No simple place, no small authority:
I now am governor of Malta; true,– But Malta hates me, and, in hating me,
My life’s in danger; and what boots it thee, Poor Barabas, to be the governor,
Whenas<191> thy life shall be at their command? No, Barabas, this must be look’d into;
And, since by wrong thou gott’st authority, Maintain it bravely by firm policy;
At least, unprofitably lose it not; For he that liveth in authority,
And neither gets him friends nor fills his bags, Lives like the ass that Aesop speaketh of, That labours with a load of bread and wine, And leaves it off to snap on thistle-tops: But Barabas will be more circumspect.
Begin betimes; Occasion’s bald behind: Slip not thine opportunity, for fear too late Thou seek’st for much, but canst not compass it.– Within here!<192>
Enter FERNEZE, with a GUARD.
FERNEZE. My lord?
BARABAS. Ay, LORD; thus slaves will learn. Now, governor,–stand by there, wait within,– [Exeunt GUARD.]
This is the reason that I sent for thee: Thou seest thy life and Malta’s happiness Are at my arbitrement; and Barabas
At his discretion may dispose of both: Now tell me, governor, and plainly too,
What think’st thou shall become of it and thee?
FERNEZE. This, Barabas; since things are in thy power, I see no reason but of Malta’s wreck,
Nor hope of thee but extreme cruelty: Nor fear I death, nor will I flatter thee.
BARABAS. Governor, good words; be not so furious ‘Tis not thy life which can avail me aught; Yet you do live, and live for me you shall: And as for Malta’s ruin, think you not
‘Twere slender policy for Barabas
To dispossess himself of such a place? For sith,<193> as once you said, within this isle, In Malta here, that I have got my goods, And in this city still have had success, And now at length am grown your governor, Yourselves shall see it shall not be forgot; For, as a friend not known but in distress, I’ll rear up Malta, now remediless.
FERNEZE. Will Barabas recover Malta’s loss? Will Barabas be good to Christians?
BARABAS. What wilt thou give me, governor, to procure A dissolution of the slavish bands
Wherein the Turk hath yok’d your land and you? What will you give me if I render you
The life of Calymath, surprise his men, And in an out-house of the city shut
His soldiers, till I have consum’d ’em all with fire? What will you give him that procureth this?
FERNEZE. Do but bring this to pass which thou pretendest, Deal truly with us as thou intimatest,
And I will send amongst the citizens, And by my letters privately procure
Great sums of money for thy recompense: Nay, more, do this, and live thou governor still.
BARABAS. Nay, do thou this, Ferneze, and be free: Governor, I enlarge thee; live with me;
Go walk about the city, see thy friends: Tush, send not letters to ’em; go thyself, And let me see what money thou canst make: Here is my hand that I’ll set Malta free; And thus we cast<194> it: to a solemn feast I will invite young Selim Calymath,
Where be thou present, only to perform One stratagem that I’ll impart to thee,
Wherein no danger shall betide thy life, And I will warrant Malta free for ever.
FERNEZE. Here is my hand; believe me, Barabas, I will be there, and do as thou desirest. When is the time?
BARABAS. Governor, presently;
For Calymath, when he hath view’d the town, Will take his leave, and sail toward Ottoman.
FERNEZE. Then will I, Barabas, about this coin, And bring it with me to thee in the evening.
BARABAS. Do so; but fail not: now farewell, Ferneze:– [Exit FERNEZE.]
And thus far roundly goes the business: Thus, loving neither, will I live with both, Making a profit of my policy;
And he from whom my most advantage comes, Shall be my friend.
This is the life we Jews are us’d to lead; And reason too, for Christians do the like. Well, now about effecting this device;
First, to surprise great Selim’s soldiers, And then to make provision for the feast, That at one instant all things may be done: My policy detests prevention.
To what event my secret purpose drives, I know; and they shall witness with their lives. [Exeunt.]
Enter CALYMATH and BASSOES.<195>
CALYMATH. Thus have we view’d the city, seen the sack, And caus’d the ruins to be new-repair’d, Which with our bombards’ shot and basilisk[s]<196> We rent in sunder at our entry:
And, now I see the situation,
And how secure this conquer’d island stands, Environ’d with the Mediterranean sea,
Strong-countermin’d with other petty isles, And, toward Calabria,<197> back’d by Sicily (Where Syracusian Dionysius reign’d),
Two lofty turrets that command the town, I wonder how it could be conquer’d thus.
Enter a MESSENGER.
MESSENGER. From Barabas, Malta’s governor, I bring A message unto mighty Calymath:
Hearing his sovereign was bound for sea, To sail to Turkey, to great Ottoman,
He humbly would entreat your majesty To come and see his homely citadel,
And banquet with him ere thou leav’st the isle.
CALYMATH. To banquet with him in his citadel! I fear me, messenger, to feast my train
Within a town of war so lately pillag’d, Will be too costly and too troublesome:
Yet would I gladly visit Barabas,
For well has Barabas deserv’d of us.
MESSENGER. Selim, for that, thus saith the governor,– That he hath in [his] store a pearl so big, So precious, and withal so orient,
As, be it valu’d but indifferently, The price thereof will serve to entertain Selim and all his soldiers for a month;
Therefore he humbly would entreat your highness Not to depart till he has feasted you.
CALYMATH. I cannot feast my men in Malta-walls, Except he place his tables in the streets.
MESSENGER. Know, Selim, that there is a monastery Which standeth as an out-house to the town; There will he banquet them; but thee at home, With all thy bassoes and brave followers.
CALYMATH. Well, tell the governor we grant his suit; We’ll in this summer-evening feast with him.
MESSENGER. I shall, my lord.
[Exit.]
CALYMATH. And now, bold bassoes, let us to our tents, And meditate how we may grace us best,
To solemnize our governor’s great feast. [Exeunt.]
Enter FERNEZE,<198> KNIGHTS, and MARTIN DEL BOSCO.
FERNEZE. In this, my countrymen, be rul’d by me: Have special care that no man sally forth Till you shall hear a culverin discharg’d By him that bears the linstock,<199> kindled thus; Then issue out and come to rescue me,
For happily I shall be in distress, Or you released of this servitude.
FIRST KNIGHT. Rather than thus to live as Turkish thralls, What will we not adventure?
FERNEZE. On, then; be gone.
KNIGHTS. Farewell, grave governor.
[Exeunt, on one side, KNIGHTS and MARTIN DEL BOSCO; on the other, FERNEZE.]
Enter, above,<200> BARABAS, with a hammer, very busy; and CARPENTERS.
BARABAS. How stand the cords? how hang these hinges? fast? Are all the cranes and pulleys sure?
FIRST CARPENTER.<201> All fast.
BARABAS. Leave nothing loose, all levell’d to my mind. Why, now I see that you have art, indeed: There, carpenters, divide that gold amongst you; [Giving money.]
Go, swill in bowls of sack and muscadine; Down to the cellar, taste of all my wines.
FIRST CARPENTER. We shall, my lord, and thank you. [Exeunt CARPENTERS.]
BARABAS. And, if you like them, drink your fill and die; For, so I live, perish may all the world! Now, Selim Calymath, return me word
That thou wilt come, and I am satisfied.
Enter MESSENGER.
Now, sirrah; what, will he come?
MESSENGER. He will; and has commanded all his men To come ashore, and march through Malta-streets, That thou mayst feast them in thy citadel.
BARABAS. Then now are all things as my wish would have ’em; There wanteth nothing but the governor’s pelf; And see, he brings it.
Enter FERNEZE.
Now, governor, the sum?
FERNEZE. With free consent, a hundred thousand pounds.
BARABAS. Pounds say’st thou, governor? well, since it is no more, I’ll satisfy myself with that; nay, keep it still, For, if I keep not promise, trust not me: And, governor, now partake my policy.
First, for his army, they are sent before, Enter’d the monastery, and underneath
In several places are field-pieces pitch’d, Bombards, whole barrels full of gunpowder, That on the sudden shall dissever it,
And batter all the stones about their ears, Whence none can possibly escape alive:
Now, as for Calymath and his consorts, Here have I made a dainty gallery,
The floor whereof, this cable being cut, Doth fall asunder, so that it doth sink
Into a deep pit past recovery.
Here, hold that knife; and, when thou seest he comes, [Throws down a knife.]
And with his bassoes shall be blithely set, A warning-piece shall be shot off<202> from the tower, To give thee knowledge when to cut the cord, And fire the house. Say, will not this be brave?
FERNEZE. O, excellent! here, hold thee, Barabas; I trust thy word; take what I promis’d thee.
BARABAS. No, governor; I’ll satisfy thee first; Thou shalt not live in doubt of any thing. Stand close, for here they come.
[FERNEZE retires.]
Why, is not this
A kingly kind of trade, to purchase towns By treachery, and sell ’em by deceit?
Now tell me, worldlings, underneath the sun<203> If greater falsehood ever has been done?
Enter CALYMATH and BASSOES.
CALYMATH. Come, my companion-bassoes: see, I pray, How busy Barabas is there above
To entertain us in his gallery:
Let us salute him.–Save thee, Barabas!
BARABAS. Welcome, great Calymath!
FERNEZE. How the slave jeers at him!
[Aside.]
BARABAS. Will’t please thee, mighty Selim Calymath, To ascend our homely stairs?
CALYMATH. Ay, Barabas.–
Come, bassoes, ascend.<204>
FERNEZE. [coming forward] Stay, Calymath; For I will shew thee greater courtesy
Than Barabas would have afforded thee.
KNIGHT. [within] Sound a charge there! [A charge sounded within: FERNEZE cuts the cord; the floor of the gallery gives way, and BARABAS falls into a caldron placed in a pit.
Enter KNIGHTS and MARTIN DEL BOSCO.<205>
CALYMATH. How now! what means this?
BARABAS. Help, help me, Christians, help!
FERNEZE. See, Calymath! this was devis’d for thee.
CALYMATH. Treason, treason! bassoes, fly!
FERNEZE. No, Selim, do not fly:
See his end first, and fly then if thou canst.
BARABAS. O, help me, Selim! help me, Christians! Governor, why stand you all so pitiless?
FERNEZE. Should I in pity of thy plaints or thee, Accursed Barabas, base Jew, relent?
No, thus I’ll see thy treachery repaid, But wish thou hadst behav’d thee otherwise.
BARABAS. You will not help me, then?
FERNEZE. No, villain, no.
BARABAS. And, villains, know you cannot help me now.– Then, Barabas, breathe forth thy latest fate, And in the fury of thy torments strive
To end thy life with resolution.–
Know, governor, ’twas I that slew thy son,– I fram’d the challenge that did make them meet: Know, Calymath, I aim’d thy overthrow:
And, had I but escap’d this stratagem, I would have brought confusion on you all, Damn’d Christian<206> dogs, and Turkish infidels! But now begins the extremity of heat
To pinch me with intolerable pangs: Die, life! fly, soul! tongue, curse thy fill, and die! [Dies.]
CALYMATH. Tell me, you Christians, what doth this portend?
FERNEZE. This train<207> he laid to have entrapp’d thy life; Now, Selim, note the unhallow’d deeds of Jews; Thus he determin’d to have handled thee, But I have rather chose to save thy life.
CALYMATH. Was this the banquet he prepar’d for us? Let’s hence, lest further mischief be pretended.<208>
FERNEZE. Nay, Selim, stay; for, since we have thee here, We will not let thee part so suddenly:
Besides, if we should let thee go, all’s one, For with thy galleys couldst thou not get hence, Without fresh men to rig and furnish them.
CALYMATH. Tush, governor, take thou no care for that; My men are all aboard,
And do attend my coming there by this.
FERNEZE. Why, heard’st thou not the trumpet sound a charge?
CALYMATH. Yes, what of that?
FERNEZE. Why, then the house was fir’d, Blown up, and all thy soldiers massacred.
CALYMATH. O, monstrous treason!
FERNEZE. A Jew’s courtesy;
For he that did by treason work our fall, By treason hath deliver’d thee to us:
Know, therefore, till thy father hath made good The ruins done to Malta and to us,
Thou canst not part; for Malta shall be freed, Or Selim ne’er return to Ottoman.
CALYMATH. Nay, rather, Christians, let me go to Turkey, In person there to mediate<209> your peace: To keep me here will naught advantage you.
FERNEZE. Content thee, Calymath, here thou must stay, And live in Malta prisoner; for come all<210> the world To rescue thee, so will we guard us now, As sooner shall they drink the ocean dry, Than conquer Malta, or endanger us.
So, march away; and let due praise be given Neither to Fate nor Fortune, but to Heaven. [Exeunt.]
<1> Heywood dedicates the First Part of THE IRON AGE (printed 1632) “To my Worthy and much Respected Friend, Mr. Thomas Hammon, of Grayes Inne, Esquire.”
<2> Tho. Heywood] The well-known dramatist.
<3> censures] i.e. judgments.
<4> bin] i.e. been.
<5> best of poets] “Marlo.” Marg. note in old ed.
<6> best of actors] “Allin.” Marg. note in old. ed.–Any account of the celebrated actor, Edward Alleyn, the founder of Dulwich College, would be superfluous here.
<7> In HERO AND LEANDER, &c.] The meaning is–The one (Marlowe) gained a lasting memory by being the author of HERO AND LEANDER; while the other (Alleyn) wan the attribute of peerless by playing the parts of Tamburlaine, the Jew of Malta, &c.–The passage happens to be mispointed in the old ed. thus,
“In Hero and Leander, one did gaine A lasting memorie: in Tamberlaine,
This Jew, with others many: th’ other wan,” &c.
and hence Mr. Collier, in his HIST. OF ENG. DRAM. POET. iii. 114, understood the words,
“in Tamburlaine,
This Jew, with others many,”
as applying to Marlowe: he afterwards, however, in his MEMOIRS OF ALLEYN, p. 9, suspected that the punctuation of the old ed. might be wrong,–which it doubtless is.
<8> him] “Perkins.” Marg. note in old ed.–“This was Richard Perkins, one of the performers belonging to the Cock-pit theatre in Drury-Lane. His name is printed among those who acted in HANNIBAL AND SCIPIO by Nabbes, THE WEDDING by Shirley, and THE FAIR MAID OF THE WEST by Heywood. After the play-houses were shut up on account of the confusion arising from the civil wars, Perkins and Sumner, who belonged to the same house, lived together at Clerkenwell, where they died and were buried. They both died some years before the Restoration. See THE DIALOGUE ON PLAYS AND PLAYERS [Dodsley’s OLD PLAYS, 1. clii., last ed.].” REED (apud Dodsley’s O. P.). Perkins acted a prominent part in Webster’s WHITE DEVIL, when it was first brought on the stage, –perhaps Brachiano (for Burbadge, who was celebrated in Brachiano, does not appear to have played it originally): in a notice to the reader at the end of that tragedy Webster says; “In particular I must remember the well-approved industry of my friend Master Perkins, and confess the worth of his action did crown both the beginning and end.” About 1622-3 Perkins belonged to the Red Bull theatre: about 1637 he joined the company at Salisbury Court: see Webster’s WORKS, note, p. 51, ed. Dyce, 1857.
<9> prize was play’d] This expression (so frequent in our early writers) is properly applied to fencing: see Steevens’s note on Shakespeare’s MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, act. i. sc. 1.
<10> no wagers laid] “Wagers as to the comparative merits of rival actors in particular parts were not unfrequent of old,” &c. Collier (apud Dodsley’s O. P.). See my ed. of Peele’s WORKS, i. x. ed. 1829; and Collier’s MEMOIRS OF ALLEYN, p. 11.
<11> the Guise] “i.e. the Duke of Guise, who had been the principal contriver and actor in the horrid massacre of St. Bartholomew’s day, 1572. He met with his deserved fate, being assassinated, by order of the French king, in 1588.” REED (apud Dodsley’s O. P.). And see our author’s MASSACRE AT PARIS.
<12> empery] Old ed. “Empire.”
<13> the Draco’s] “i.e. the severe lawgiver of Athens; ‘whose statutes,’ said Demades, ‘were not written with ink, but blood.'” STEEVENS (apud Dodsley’s O. P.).–Old ed. “the Drancus.”
<14> had] Qy. “had BUT”?
<15> a lecture here] Qy. “a lecture TO YOU here”?
<16> Act I.] The Scenes of this play are not marked in the old ed.; nor in the present edition,–because occasionally (where the audience were to SUPPOSE a change of place, it was impossible to mark them.
<17> Samnites] Old ed. “Samintes.”
<18> silverlings] When Steevens (apud Dodsley’s O. P.) called this “a diminutive, to express the Jew’s contempt of a metal inferior in value to gold,” he did not know that the word occurs in Scripture: “a thousand vines at a thousand SILVERLINGS.” ISAIAH, vii. 23.–Old ed. “siluerbings.”
<19> Tell] i.e. count.
<20> seld-seen] i.e. seldom-seen.
<21> Into what corner peers my halcyon’s bill?] “It was anciently believed that this bird (the king-fisher), if hung up, would vary with the wind, and by that means shew from what quarter it blew.” STEEVENS (apud Dodsley’s O. P.),–who refers to the note on the following passage of Shakespeare’s KING LEAR, act ii. sc. 2;
“Renege, affirm, and turn their HALCYON BEAKS With every gale and vary of their masters,” &c.
<22> custom them] “i.e. enter the goods they contain at the Custom-house.” STEEVENS (apud Dodsley’s O. P.).
<23> But] Old ed. “By.”
<24> fraught] i.e. freight.
<25> scambled] i.e. scrambled. (Coles gives in his DICT. “To SCAMBLE, certatim arripere”; and afterwards renders “To scramble” by the very same Latin words.)
<26> Enter three JEWS] A change of scene is supposed here, –to a street or to the Exchange.
<27> Fond] i.e. Foolish.
<28> Aside] Mr. Collier (apud Dodsley’s O. P.), mistaking the purport of this stage-direction (which, of course, applies only to the words “UNTO MYSELF”), proposed an alteration of the text.
<29> BARABAS. Farewell, Zaareth, &c.] Old ed. “Iew. DOE SO; Farewell Zaareth,” &c. But “Doe so” is evidently a stage- direction which has crept into the text, and which was intended to signify that the Jews DO “take their leaves” of Barabas: –here the old ed. has no “EXEUNT.”
<30> Turk has] So the Editor of 1826.–Old ed. “Turkes haue”: but see what follows.
<31> Ego mihimet sum semper proximus] The words of Terence are “Proximus sum egomet mihi.” ANDRIA, iv. 1. 12.
<32> Exit] The scene is now supposed to be changed to the interior of the Council-house.
<33> bassoes] i.e. bashaws.
<34> governor] Old ed. “Gouernours” here, and several times after in this scene.
<35> CALYMATH. Stand all aside, &c.] “The Governor and the Maltese knights here consult apart, while Calymath gives these directions.” COLLIER (apud Dodsley’s O. P.).
<36> happily] i.e. haply.
<37> Officer] Old ed. “Reader.”
<38> denies] i.e. refuses.
<39> convertite] “i.e. convert, as in Shakespeare’s KING JOHN, act v. sc. 1.” STEEVENS (apud Dodsley’s O. P.).
<40> Then we’ll take, &c.] In the old ed. this line forms a portion of the preceding speech.
<41> ecstasy] Equivalent here to–violent emotion. “The word was anciently used to signify some degree of alienation of mind.” COLLIER (apud Dodsley’s O. P.).
<42> Exeunt three Jews] On their departure, the scene is supposed to be changed to a street near the house of Barabas.
<43> reduce] If the right reading, is equivalent to–repair. But qy. “redress”?
<44> fond] “i.e. foolish.” REED (apud Dodsley’s O. P.).
<45> portagues] Portuguese gold coins, so called.
<46> sect] “i.e. sex. SECT and SEX were, in our ancient dramatic writers, used synonymously.” REED (apud Dodsley’s O. P.).
<47> Enter FRIAR JACOMO, &c.] Old ed. “Enter three Fryars and two Nuns:” but assuredly only TWO Friars figure in this play.
<48> Abb.] In the old ed. the prefix to this speech is “1 Nun,” and to the next speech but one “Nun.” That both speeches belong to the Abbess is quite evident.
<49> Sometimes] Equivalent here (as frequently in our early writers) to–Sometime.
<50> forgive me–] Old ed. “GIUE me–”
<51> thus] After this word the old ed. has “”,–to signify, perhaps, the motion which Barabas was to make here with his hand.
<52> forget not] Qy. “forget IT not”
<53> Enter BARABAS, with a light] The scene is now before the house of Barabas, which has been turned into a nunnery.
<54> Thus, like the sad-presaging raven, that tolls The sick man’s passport in her hollow beak] Mr. Collier (HIST. OF ENG. DRAM. POET. iii. 136) remarks that these lines are cited (with some variation, and from memory, as the present play was not printed till 1633) in an epigram on T. Deloney, in Guilpin’s SKIALETHEIA OR THE SHADOWE OF TRUTH, 1598,–
“LIKE TO THE FATALL OMINOUS RAVEN, WHICH TOLLS THE SICK MAN’S DIRGE WITHIN HIS HOLLOW BEAKE, So every paper-clothed post in Poules To thee, Deloney, mourningly doth speake,” &c.
<55> of] i.e. on.
<56> wake] Old ed. “walke.”
<57> Bueno para todos mi ganado no era] Old ed. “Birn para todos, my ganada no er.”
<58> But stay: what star shines yonder in the east, &c.] Shakespeare, it would seem, recollected this passage, when he wrote,–
“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!” ROMEO AND JULIET, act ii. sc. 2.
<59> Hermoso placer de los dineros] Old ed. “Hormoso Piarer, de les Denirch.”
<60> Enter Ferneze, &c.] The scene is the interior of the Council-house.
<61> entreat] i.e. treat.
<62> vail’d not] “i.e. did not strike or lower our flags.” STEEVENS (apud Dodsley’s O. P.).