El Judío de Malta



Enter Barabas in his Counting-house, with heapes of gold before him

So that of thus much that returne was made:
And of the third part of the Persian ships,
There was the venture summ'd and satisfied.
As for those Samnites and the men of Uzz
That bought my Spanish Oyles, and Wines of Greece,
Here have I purst their paltry silverlings.
Eye; what a trouble tis to count this trash.
Well fare the Arabians who so richly pay
The things they traffique for with wedge of gold,
Whereof a man may easily in a day
Tell that which may maintaine him all his life.
The needy groome that never fingred groat,
Would make a miracle of thus much coyne:
But he whose steele-bard coffers are cramb'd full,
And all his life time hath bin tired,
Wearying his fingers ends with telling it,
Would in his age be loath to labour so,
And for a pound to sweat himselfe to death:
Give me the Merchants of the Indian Mynes,
That trade in mettall of the purest mould;
The wealthy Moore, that in the Easterne rockes
Without controule can picke his riches up,
And in his house heape pearle like pibble-stones,
Receive them free, and sell them by the weight;
Bags of fiery Opals, Saphires, Amatists,
Jacints, hard Topas, grasse-greene Emeraulds,
Beauteous Rubyes, sparkling Diamonds,
And seildsene costly stones of so great price,
As one of them indifferently rated,
And of a Carrect of this quantity,
May serve in perill of calamity
To ransome great Kings from captivity.
This is the ware wherein consists my wealth:
And thus me thinkes should men of judgement frame
Their meanes of traffique from the vulgar trade,
And as their wealth increaseth, so inclose
Infinite riches in a little roome.
But now how stands the wind?
Into what corner peeres my Halcions bill?
Ha, to the East? yes: See how stands the Vanes?
East and by-South: why then I hope my ships
I sent for Egypt and the bordering Iles
Are gotten up by Nilus winding bankes:
Mine Argosie from Alexandria,
Loaden with Spice and Silkes, now under saile,
Are smoothly gliding downe by Candie shoare
To Malta, through our Mediterranean sea.
But who comes heare? How now.

Enter a Merchant

Merchant 1:
Thy ships are safe,riding in Malta Rhode:
And all the Merchants with other Merchandize
Are safe arriv'd, and have sent me to know
Whether your selfe will come and custome them.

The ships are safe thou saist, and richly fraught.

Merchant 1:
They are.

Why then goe bid them come ashore,
And bring with them their bils of entry:
I hope our credit in the Custome-house
Will serve as well as I were present there.
Goe send 'um threescore Camels, thirty Mules,
And twenty Waggons to bring up the ware.
But art thou master in a ship of mine,
And is thy credit not enough for that?

Merchant 1:
The very Custome barely comes to more
Then many Merchants of the Towne are worth,
And therefore farre exceeds my credit, Sir.

Goe tell 'em the Jew of Malta sent thee, man:
Tush, who amongst 'em knowes not Barrabas?

Merchant 1:
I goe.

So then, there's somewhat come.
Sirra, which of my ships art thou Master of?

Merchant 1:
Of the Speranza, Sir.

And saw'st thou not
Mine Argosie at Alexandria?
Thou couldst not come from Egypt, or by Caire
But at the entry there into the sea,
Where Nitus payes his tribute to the maine,
Thou needs must saile by Alexandria.

Merchant 1:
I neither saw them, nor inquir'd of them.
But this we heard some of our sea-men say,
They wondred how you durst with so much wealth
Trust such a crazed Vessell, and so farre.

Tush, they are wise; I know her and her strength:
But goe, goe thou thy wayes, discharge thy Ship,
And bid my Factor bring his loading in.
And yet I wonder at this Argosie.

Enter a second Merchant

Merchant 2:
Thine Argosie from Alexandria,
Know Barabas, cloth ride in Malta Rhode,
Laden with riches, and exceeding store
Of Persian silkes, of gold, and Orient Perle.

How chance you came not with those other ships
That sail'd by Egypt?

Merchant 2:
Sir we saw 'em not.

Belike they coasted round by Candie shoare
About their Oyles, or other businesses.
But 'twas ill done of you to come so farre
Without the ayd or conduct of their ships.

Merchant 2:
Sir, we were wafted by a Spanish Fleet
That never left us till within a league,
That had the Gallies of the Turke in chase.

Oh they were going up to Sicily:
Well, goe
And bid the Merchants and my men dispatch
And come ashore, and see the fraught discharg'd.

Merchant 2:
I goe.

Thus trowles our fortune in by land and Sea,
And thus are wee on every side inrich'd:
These are the Blessings promis'd to the Jewes,
And herein was old Abrams happinesse:
What more may Heaven doe for earthly man
Then thus to powre out plenty in their laps,
Ripping the bowels of the earth for them,
Making the Sea their servant, and the winds
To drive their substance with successefull blasts?
Who hateth me but for my happinesse?
Or who is honour'd now but for his wealth?
Rather had I a Jew be hated thus,
Then pittied in a Christian poverty:
For I can see no fruits in all their faith,
But malice, falsehood, and excessive pride?
Which me thinkes fits not their profession.
Happily some haplesse man hath conscience,
And for his conscience lives in beggery.
They say we are a scatter'd Nation:
I cannot tell, but we have scambled up
More wealth by farre then those that brag of faith.
There's Kirriah Jairim, the great Jew of Greece,
Obed in Bairseth, Bairseth in Portugall,
My selfe in Malta, some in Italy,
Many in France, and wealthy every one:
I, wealthier farre then any Christian.
I must confesse we come not to be Kings:
That's not our fault: Alas, our number's few,
And Crownes come either by succession,
Or urg'd by force; and nothing violent,
Oft have I heard tell, can be permanent.
Give us a peacefull rule, make Christians Kings,
That thirst so much for Principality.
I have no charge, nor many children,
But one sole Daughter, whom I hold as deare
As Agamemnon did his Iphigen:
And all I have is hers. But who comes here?

Enter three Jewes

Jew 1:
Tush, tell not me 'twas done of policie.

Jew 2:
Come therefore let us goe to Barrabas;
For he can counsell best in these affaires;
And here he comes.

Why, how now Countrymen?
Why flocke you thus to me in multitudes?
What accident's betided to the Jewes?

Jew 2:
A Fleet of warlike Gallyes, Barabas,
Are come from Turkey, and lye in our Rhode:
And they this day sit in the Counsell-house
To entertaine them and their Embassie.

Why let 'em come, so they come not to warre;
Or let 'em warre, so we be conquerors:
Nay let 'em combat, conquer, and kill all,
So they spare me, my daughter, and my wealth.

Jew 1:
Were it for confirmation of a League,
They would not come in warlike manner thus.

Jew 2:
I feare their comming will afflict us all.

Fond men, what dreame you of their multitudes ?
What need they treat of peace that are in league?
The Turkes and those of Malta are in league.
Tut, tut, there is some other matter in't.

Jew 1:
Why, Barabas, they come for peace or warre.

Happily for neither, but to passe along
Towards Venice by the Adriatick Sea;
With whom they have attempted many times,
But never could effect their Stratagem.

Jew 3:
And very wisely sayd, it may be so.

Jew 2:
But there's a meeting in the Senate-house,
And all the Jewes in Malta must be there.

Umh; All the Jewes in Malta must be there?
I, like enough, why then let every man
Provide him, and be there for fashion-sake.
If any thing shall there concerne our state
Assure your selves I'le looke—unto my selfe.

1.Jew 1:
I know you will; well brethren let us goe.

Jew 2:
Let's take our leaves; Farewell good Barabas.

Doe so; Farewell Zaareth farewell Temainte.
Summon thy sences, call thy wits together:
These silly men mistake the matter cleane.
Long to the Turke did Malta contribute;
Which Tribute all in policie, I feare,
The Turkes have let increase to such a summe,
As all the wealth of Malta cannot pay;
And now by that advantage thinkes, belike,
To seize upon the Towne: I, that he seekes.
How ere the world goe, I'le make sure for one,
And seeke in time to intercept the worst,
Warily yarding that which I ha got.
Ego mihimet sum semper proximus.
Why let 'em enter, let 'em take the Towne.


Enter Ferneze, Governor of Malta, Knights and Officers, met by Callapine and other Bassoes of the Turke; Calymath

Now Bassoes, what demand you at our hands?
Know Knights of Malta, that we came from Rhodes,
From Cyprus, Cyprus, and those other Iles
That lye betwixt the Mediterranean seas.
What's Cyprus, Cyprus, and those other Iles
To us, or Malta? What at our hands demand ye?
The ten yeares tribute that remaines unpaid.
Alas, my Lord, the summe is overgreat,
I hope your Highnesse will consider us.
I wish, grave Governour,'twere in my power
To favour you, but 'tis my fathers cause,
Wherein I may not, nay I dare not dally.
Then give us leave, great Selim-Calymath.
Stand all aside, and let the Knights determine,
And send to keepe our Gallies under-saile,
For happily we shall not tarry here:
Now Governour,how are you resolv'd?
Thus: Since your hard conditions are such
That you will needs have ten yeares tribute past,
We may have time to make collection
Amongst the Inhabitants of Malta for't.
That's more then is in our Commission.
What Callapine, a little curtesie.
Let's know their time, perhaps it is not long;
And 'tis more Kingly to obtaine by peace
Then to enforce conditions by constraint.
What respit aske you Governour?
But a month.
We grant a month, but see you keep your promise.
Now ranch our Gallies backe againe to Sea,
Where wee'll attend the respit you have sane,
And for the mony send our messenger.
Farewell great Governor, and brave Knights of Malta.
Exeunt [Turkes].
And all good fortune wait on Calymath.
Goe one and call those Jewes of Malta hither:
Were they not summon'd to appeare to day?
They were, my Lord, and here they come.
Enter Barabas, and three Jewes.
1. Knight
Have you determin'd what to say to them?
Yes, give me leave, and Hebrews now come neare.
From the Emperour of Turkey is arriv'd
Great Selim-Calymath, his Highnesse sonne,
To levie of us ten yeares tribute past,
Now then here know that it concerneth us—
Then good my Lord, to keepe your quiet still,
Your Lordship shall doe well to let them have it.
Soft Barabas, there's more longs too't than so.
To what this ten yeares tribute will amount
That we have cast, but cannot compasse it
By reason of the warres, that robb'd our store;
And therefore are we to request your ayd.
Alas, my Lord, we are no souldiers:
And what's our aid against so great a Prince?
1. Knight
Tut, Jew, we know thou art no souldier;
Thou art a Merchant, and a monied man,
And 'tis thy mony, Barabas, we seeke.
How, my Lord, my mony?
Thine and the rest.
For to be short, amongst you 'tmust be had.
1. Jew
Alas, my Lord, the most of us are poore!
Then let the rich increase your portions.
Are strangers with your tribute to be tax'd?
2. Knight
Have strangers leave with us to get their wealth?
Then let them with us contribute.
How, equally?
No, Jew, like infidels.
For through our sufferance of your hatefull lives,
Who stand accursed in the sight of heaven,
These taxes and affiictions are befal'ne,
And therefore thus we are determined;
Reade there the Articles of our decrees.

First, the tribute mony of the Turkes shall all be levyed
amongst the Jewes, and each of them to pay one halfe of his

How, halfe his estate? I hope you meane not mine.


Read on.

Secondly, hee that denies to pay, shal straight become a

How, a Christian? Hum, what's here to doe?


Lastly, he that denies this, shall absolutely lose al he has.

All 3 Jewes.
Oh my Lord we will give halfe.

Oh earth-mettall'd villaines, and no Hebrews born!
And will you basely thus submit your selves
To leave your goods to their arbitrament?

Why Barabas wilt thou be christened?

No, Governour, I will be no convertite.

Then pay thy halfe.

Why know you what you did by this device?
Halfe of my substance is a Cities wealth.
Governour, it was not got so easily;
Nor will I part so slightly therewithall.
Sir, halfe is the penalty of our decree,
Either pay that, or we will seize on all.
Corpo di dio; stay, you shall have halfe,
Let me be us'd but as my brethren are.
No, Jew, thou has denied the Articles
And now it cannot be recall'd.
[Exeunt Officers]
Will you then steale my goods
Is theft the ground of your Religion?
No, Jew, we take particularly thine
To save the wine of a multitude:
And better one want for a common good,
Then many perish for a private man:
Yet Barrabas we will not banish thee,
But here in Malta, where thou gotst thy wealth,
Live still; and if thou canst, get more.
Christians; what, or how can I multiply?
Of nought is nothing made.
1. Knight
From nought at first thou camst to little welth,
From little unto more, from more to most:
If your first curse fall heavy on thy head,
And make thee poore and scorn'd of all the world,
'Tis not our fault, but thy inherent sinne.
What? bring you Scripture to confirm your wrongs?
Preach me not out of my possessions.
Some Jewes are wicked, as all Christians are:
But say the Tribe that I descended of
Were all in generall cast away for sinne,
Shall I be tryed by their transgression?
The man that dealeth righteously shall live:
And which of you can charge me otherwise?
Out wretched Barabas,
Sham'st thou not thusto justifie thy selfe,
As if we knew not thy profession?
If thou rely upon thy righteousnesse,
Be patient and thy riches will increase.
Excesse of wealth is cause of covetousnesse:
And covetousnesse, oh 'tis a monstrous sinne.

I, but theft is worse: tush, take not from me then,
For that is theft; and if you rob me thus,
I must be forc'd to steale and compasse more.

1. Knight
Grave Governor, list not to his exclames:
Convert his mansion to a Nunnery,
His house will harbour many holy Nuns.
Enter Officers.
It shall be so: now Officers have you done?
I, my Lord, we have seiz'd upon the goods
And wares of Barabas, which being valued
Amount to more then all the wealth in Malta.
And of the other we have seized halfe.
Then wee'll take order for the residue.
Well then my Lord, say, are you satisfied?
You have my goods, my mony, and my wealth,
My ships, my store, and all that I enjoy'd;
And having all, you can request no more;
Unlesse your unrelenting flinty hearts
Suppresse all pitty in your stony breasts,
And now shall move you to bereave my life.
No, Barabas, to staine our hands with blood
Is farre from us and our profession.
Why I esteeme the injury farre lesse,
To take the lives of miserable men,
Then be the causers of their misery.
You have my wealth, the labour of my life,
The comfort of mine age, my childrens hope,
And therefore ne're distinguish of the wrong.
Content thee, Barabas, thou hast nought but right.
Your extreme right does me exceeding wrong:
But take it to you i'th devils name.
Come, let us in, and gather of these goods
The mony for this tribute of the Turke.
1 Knight
Tis necessary that be look'd unto:
For if we breake our day, we breake the league,
And that will prove but simple policie.
Exeunt. [Manent Barabas and the three Jewes.]
I, policie? that's their profession,
And not simplicity, as they suggest.
The plagues of Egypt, and the curse of heaven,
Earths barrennesse, and all mens hatred
Inflict upon them, thou great Primus Motor.
And here upon my knees, striking the earth,
I banne their soules to everlasting paines
And extreme tortures of the fiery deepe,
That thus have dealt with me in my distresse.
1. Jew
Oh yet be patient, gentle Barabas.
Oh silly brethren, borne to see this day!
Why stand you thus unmov'd with my laments?
Why weepe you not to thinke upon my wrongs?
Why pine not I, and dye in this distresse?
1. Jew
Why, Barabas, as hardly can we brooke
The quell handling of our selves in this:
Thou seest they have taken halfe our goods.
Why did you yeeld to their extortion ?
You were a multitude, and I but one,
And of me onely have they taken all.
1. Jew
Yet brother Barabas remember Job.
What tell you me of Job? I wot his wealth
Was written thus: he had seven thousand sheepe,
Three thousand Camels, and two hundred yoake
Of labouring Oxen, and five hundred
Shee Asses: but for every one of those,
Had they beene valued at indifferent rate,
I had at home, and in mine Argosie
And other ships that came from Egypt last,
As much as would have bought his beasts and him,
And yet have kept enough to live upon;
So that not he, but I may curse the day,
Thy fatall birth-day, forlorne Barabas;
And henceforth wish for an eternall night,
That clouds of darkenesse may inclose my flesh,
And hide these extreme sorrowes from mine eyes:
For onely I have toyl'd to inherit here
The months of vanity and losse of time,
And painefull nights have bin appointed me.
2. Jew
Good Barabas be patient.
I,, I,
Pray leave me in my patience. You that
Were ne're possess of wealth, are pleas'd with want.
But give him liberty at least to mourne,
That in a field amidst his enemies,
Doth see his souldiers slaine, himselfe disarm'd,
And knowes no meanes of his recoverie:
I, let me sorrow for this sudden chance,
'Tis in the trouble of my spirit I speake;
Great injuries are not so soone forgot.

1. Jew
Come, let us leave him in his irefull mood,
Our words will but increase his extasie.

2 Jew
On then: but trust me 'tis a misery
To see a man in such affliction:
Farewell Barabas.

I, fare you well.
See the simplicitie of these base slaves,
Who for the villaines have no wit themselves,
Thinke me to be a senselesse lumpe of clay
That will with every water wash to dirt:
No, Barabas is borne to better chance,
And fram'd of finer mold then common men,
That measure nought but by the present time.
A reaching thought will search his deepest wits,
And cast with cunning for the time to come:
For evils are apt to happen every day.
Enter Abigall the Jewes daughter.
But whither wends my beauteous Abigall?
Oh what has made my lovely daughter sad ?
What, woman, moane not for a little losse:
Thy father has enough in store for thee.
Not for my selfe, but aged Barabas:
Father, for thee lamenteth Abigaile:
But I will learne to leave these fruitlesse teares,
And urg'd thereto with my afflictions,
With fierce exclaimes run to the Senate-house,
And in the Senate reprehend them all,
And rent their hearts with tearing of my haire,
Till they reduce the wrongs done to my father.
No, Abigail, things past recovery
Are hardly cur'd with exclamations.
Be silent, Daughter, sufferance breeds ease,
And time may yeeld us an occasion
Which on the sudden cannot serve the turne.
Besides, my girle, thinke me not all so fond
As negligently to forgoe so much
Without provision for thy selfe and me.
Ten thousand Portagues besides great Perles,
Rich costly Jewels, and Stones infinite,
Fearing the worst of this before it fell,
I closely hid.
Where father?
In my house, my girle.
Then shall they ne're be seene of Barrabas:
For they have seiz'd upon thy house and wares.
But they will give me leave once more, I bow,
To goe into my house.
That may they not:
For there I left the Governour placing Nunnes,
Displacing me; and of thy house they meane
To make a Nunnery, where none but their owne sect
Must enter in; men generally barr'd.
My gold, my gold, and all my wealth is gone.
You partiall heavens, have I deserv'd this plague?
What, will you thus oppose me, lucklesse Starres,
To make me desperate in my poverty?
And knowing me impatient in distresse
Thinke me so mad as I will hang my selfe,
That I may vanish ore the earth in ayre,
And leave no memory that e're I was.
No, I will live; nor loath I this my life:
And since you leave me in the Ocean thus
To sinke or swim, and put me to my shifts,
I'le rouse my senses, and awake my selfe.
Daughter, I have it: thou perceiv'st the plight
Wherein these Christians have oppressed me:
Be rul'd by me, for in extremitie
We ought to make barre of no policie.
Father, what e're it be to injure them
That have so manifestly wronged us,
What will not Abigall attempt?
Why so,
Then thus;thou toldst me they have turn'd my house
Into a Nunnery, and some Nuns are there.
I did.
Then Abigall, there must my girle
Intreat the Abbasse to be entertain'd.
How, as a Nunne?
I, Daughter, for Religion
Hides many mischiefes from suspition.
I, but father they will suspect me there.
Let 'em suspect, but be thou so precise
As they may thinke it done of Holinesse.
Intreat 'em faire, and give them friendly speech,
And seeme to them as if thy sinnes were great,
Till thou hast gotten to be entertain'd.
Thus father shall I much dissemble.
As good dissemble that thou never mean'st
As first meane truth, and then dissemble it,
A counterfet profession is better
Then unseene hypocrisie.
Well father, say I be entertain'd,
What then shall follow?
This shall follow then;
There have I hid close underneath the plancke
That runs along the upper chamber floore,
The gold and Jewels which I kept for thee.
But here they come; be cunning Abigall
Then father, goe with me.
No, Abigeal, in this
It is not necessary I be seene.
For I will seeme offended with thee for't.
Be close, my girle, for this must fetch my gold.
Enter twoFryars and threeNuns [, one the Abbasse].
1. Fryar
We now are almost at the new made Nunnery.
The better; for we love not to be seene:
'Tis thirtie winters long since some of us
Did stray so farre amongst the multitude.
1. Fryar
But, Madam, this house
And waters of this new made Nunnery
Will much delight you.
It may be so: but who comes here?
Grave Abbasse, and you happy Virgins guide,
Pitty the state of a distressed Maid.
What art thou, daughter?
The hopelesse daughter of a haplesse Jew,
The Jew of Malta, wretched Barabas;
Sometimes the owner of a goodly house,
Which they have now turn'd to a Nunnery.
Well, daughter, say, what is thy suit with us?
Fearing the afflictions which my father feeles,
Proceed from sinne, or want of faith in us,
I'de passe away my life in penitence,
And be a Novice in your Nunnery,
To make attonement for my labouring soule.
1. Fryar
No doubt, brother, but this proceedeth of the spirit.
2. Fryar
I, and of a moving spirit too, brother; but come,
Let us intreat she may be entertain'd.
Well, daughter, we admit you for a Nun.
First let me as a Novice learne to frame
My solitary life to your streight lawes,
And let me lodge where I was wont to lye.
I doe not doubt by your divine precepts
And mine owne industry, but to profit much.
As much I hope as all I hid is worth.Aside.

Come daughter, follow us.
Why how now Abigall, what mak'st thou
Amongst these hateful Christians?
1. Fryar
Hinder her not, thou man of little faith,
For she has mortified her selfe.
How, mortified!
1. Fryar
And is admitted to the Sister-hood.
Child of perdition, and thy fathers shame,
What wilt thou doe among these hatefull fiends?
I charge thee on my blessing that thou leave
These divers, and their damned heresie.
Father, give me—
Nay backe, Abigall, Whispers to her.

And thinke upon the Jewels and the gold,
The boord is marked thus that covers it.
Away accursed from thy fathers sight.
1. Fryar.
Barabas, although thou art in mis-beleefe,
And wilt not see thine owne afflictions,
Yet let thy daughter be no longer blinde.
Blind, Fryer, I wrecke not thy perswasions.
The boord is marked thus that covers it,[Aside to her.]

For I had rather dye, then see her thus.
Wilt thou forsake mee too in my distresse,
Seduced Daughter, Goe, forget not.Aside to her.

Becomes it Jewes to be so credulous,
To morrow early I'le be at the doore.Aside to her.

No come not at me, if thou wilt be damn'd,
Forget me, see me not, and so be gone.
Farewell, Remember to morrow morning.Aside.

Out, out thou wretch.
[As they are leaving] Enter Mathias.

Whose this? Faire Abigall the rich Jewes daughter
Become a Nun? her fathers sudden fall
Has humbled her and brought her downe to this:
Tut, she were fitter for a tale of love
Then to be tired Out with Orizons:
And better would she farre become a bed
Embraced in a friendly lovers armes,
Then rise at midnight to a solemne masse.
Enter Lodowicke.
Why how now Don Mathias, in a dump?
Beleeve me, Noble Lodowicke, I have seene
The strangest sight, in my opinion,
That ever I beheld.
What west I prethe?
A faire young maid scarce fourteene yeares of age,
The sweetest flower in Citherea's field,
Cropt from the pleasures of the fruitfull earth,
And strangely metamorphis'd Nun.
But say, what was she?
Why, the rich Jewes daughter.
What, Barabas, whose goods were lately seiz'd?
Is she so faire?
And matchlesse beautifull;
As had you seene her 'twould have mov'd your heart,
Tho countermin'd with walls of brasse, to love,
Or at the least to pitty.
And if she be so faire as you report,
'Twere time well spent to goe and visit her:
How say you, shall we?
I must and will, Sir, there's no remedy.
And so will I too, or it shall goe hard.—[Aside.]

Farewell Mathias.
Farewell Lodowicke.

Act Two, Scene One
Enter Barabas with a light.
Thus like the sad presaging Raven that tolls
The sicke mans passeport in her hollow beake,
And in the shadow of the silent night
Doth shake contagion from her sable wings;
Vex'd and tormented runnes poore Barabas
With fatall curses towards these Christians.
The incertaine pleasures of swift-footed time
Have tane their flight, and left me in despaire;
And of my former riches rests no more
But bare remembrance; like a souldiers skarre,
That has no further comfort for his maime.
Oh thou that with a fiery piller led'st
The sonnes of Israel through the dismall shades,
Light Abrahams off-spring; and direct the hand
Of Abigall this night; or let the day
Turne to eternall darkenesse after this:
No sleepe can fasten on my watchfull eyes,
Nor quiet enter my distemper'd thoughts,
Till I have answer of my Abigall.
Enter Abigall above.
Now have I happily espy'd a time
To search the plancke my father did appoint;
And here behold (unseene) where I have found
The gold, the perles, and Jewels which he hid.
Now I remember those old womens words,
Who in my wealth wud tell me winters tales,
And speake of spirits and ghosts that glide by night
About the place where Treasure hath bin hid:
And now me thinkes that I am one of those:
For whilst I live, here lives my soules sole hope,
And when I dye, here shall my spirit walke.
Now that my fathers fortune were so good
As but to be about this happy place;
'Tis not so happy: yet when we parted last,
He said he wud attend me in the morne.
Then, gentle sleepe, where e're his bodie rests,
Give charge to Morpheus that he may dreame
A golden dreame, and of the sudden walke,
Come and receive the Treasure I have found.
Bien para todos mi ganado no es:
As good goe on, as sit so sadly thus.
But stay, what starre shines yonder in the East?
The Loadstarre of my life, if Abigall.
Who's there?
Who's that?
Peace, Abigal, 'tis I.
Then father here receive thy happinesse.
Hast thou't?
Throwes downe bags.
Hast thou't?
There's more, and more, and more.
Oh my girle,
My gold, my fortune, my felicity;
Strength to my soule, death to mine enemy;
Welcome the first beginner of my blisse:
Oh Abigal Abigal, that I had thee here too,
Then my desires were fully satisfied,
But I will practice thy enlargement thence:
Oh girle, oh gold, oh beauty, oh my blisse!
Hugs his bags.
Father, it draweth towards midnight now,
And 'bout this time the Nuns begin to wake;
To shun suspition, therefore, let us part.
Farewell my joy, and by my fingers take
A kisse from him that sends it from his soule.
Now Phoebus ope the eye-lids of the day,
And for the Raven wake the morning Larke,
That I may hover with her in the Ayre,
Singing ore these, as she does ore her young.

Act Two, Scene Two
Enter Governor, Martin del Bosco, the Knights [and Officers].
Now Captaine tell us whither thou art bound?
Whence is thy ship that anchors in our Rhoad?
And why thou cam'st ashore without our leave?
Governor of Malta, hither am I bound;
My Ship, the flying Dragon, is of Spaine,
And so am I, Delbosco is my name;
Vizadmirall unto the Catholike King.
1. Knight
'Tis true, my Lord, therefore intreat him well.
Our fraught is Grecians, Turks, and Africk Moores.
For late upon the coast of Corsica,
Because we vail'd not to the Turkish Fleet,
Their creeping Gallyes had us in the chase:
But suddenly the wind began to rise,
And then we luft, and tackt, and fought at ease:
Some have we fir'd, and many have we sunke;
But one amongst the rest became our prize:
The Captain's slaine, the rest remaine our slaves,
Of whom we would make sale in Malta here.
Martin del Bosco, I have heard of thee;
Welcome to Malta, and to all of us;
But to admit a sale of these thy Turkes
We may not, nay we dare not give consent
By reason of a Tributary league.
1. Knight
Delbosco, as thou lovest and honour'st us,
Perswade our Governor against the Turke;
This truce we have is but in hope of gold,
And with that summe he craves might we wage warre.
Will Knights of Malta be in league with Turkes,
And buy it basely too for summes of gold?
My Lord, Remember that toEurop's shame,
The Christian Ile of Rhodes, from whence you came,
Was lately lost, and you were stated here
To be at deadly enmity with Turkes.
Captaine we know it, but our force is small.
What is the summe that Calymath requires?
A hundred thousand Crownes.
My Lord and King hath title to this isle,
And he meanes quickly to expell you hence;
Therefore be rul'd by me, and keepe the gold:
I'le write unto his majesty for ayd,
And not depart untill I see you free.
On this condition shall thy Turkes be sold.
Goe Officers and set them straight in shew.
[Exeunt Officers.]
Bosco, thou shalt be Malta's Generall;
We and our warlike Knights will follow thee
Against these barbarous mis-beleeving Turkes.
So shall you imitate those you succeed:
For when their hideous force inviron'd Rhodes,
Small though the number was that kept the Towne,
They fought it out, and not a man surviv'd
To bring the haplesse newes to Christendome.
So will we fight it out; come, let's away:
Proud-daring Calymath, instead of gold,
Wee'll send thee bullets wrapt in smoake and fire:
Claime tribute where thou wilt, we are resolv'd,
Honor is bought with bloud and not with gold.

Act Two, Scene Three
Enter Officers with slaves.
1. Officer
This is the Market-place, here let 'em stand
Feare not their sale, for they'll be quickly bought.
2. Officer
Every ones price is written on his backe,
And so much must they yeeld or not be sold.
Enter Barabas.
1. Officer
Here comes the Jew, had not his goods bin seiz'd,
He'de give us present mony for them all.
In spite of these swine-eating Christians,
(Unchosen Nation, never circumciz'd;
Such as, poore villaines, were ne're thought upon
Till Titus and Vespasian conquer'd us)
Am I become as wealthy as I was:
They hop'd my daughter would ha bin a Nun;
But she's at home, and I have bought a house
As great and faire as is the Governors;
And there in spite of Malta will I dwell:
Having Fernezes hand, whose heart I'le have;
I, and his sonnes too, or it shall goe hard.
I am not of the Tribe of Levy, I,
That can so soone forget an injury.
We Jewes can fawne like Spaniels when we please;
And when we grin we bite, yet are our lookes
As innocent and harmelesse as a Lambes.
I learn'd in Florence how to kisse my hand,
Heave up my shoulders when they call me dogge,
And ducke as low as any bare-foot Fryar,
Hoping to see them starve upon a stall,
Or else be gather'd for in our Synagogue;
That when the offering-Bason comes to me,
Even for charity I may spit intoo't.
Here comes Don Lodowicke the Governor's sonne,
One that I love for his good fathers sake.
Enter Lodowicke.
I heare the wealthy Jew walked this way;
I'le seeke him out, and so insinuate,
That I may have a sight of Abigall;
For Don Mathias tels me she is faire.

Now will I shew my selfe to have more of the Serpent then the Dove; that is, more knave than foole.

Yond walks the Jew, now for faire Abigall.
I, I, no doubt but shee's at your command.
Barabas, thou know'st I am the Governors sonne.

I wud you were his father too, Sir, that's al the harm I
wish you: the slave looks like a hogs cheek new sindg'd.

Whither walk'st thou, Barabas?
No further: 'tis a custome held with us,
That when we speake with Gentiles like to you,
We turne into the Ayre to purge our selves:
For unto us the Promise cloth belong.
Well, Barabas, canst helpe me to a Diamond?
Oh, Sir, your father had my Diamonds.
Yet I have one left that will serve your turne:
I meane my daughter:—but e're he shall have her
I'le sacrifice her on a pile of wool.
I ha the poyson of the City for him,
And the white leprosie.
What sparkle does it give without a foile?
The Diamond that I talke of, ne'r was foild:
But when he touches it, it will be foild:
Lord Lodowicke, it sparkles bright and faire.
Is it square or pointed, pray let me know.
Pointed it is, good Sir,—but not for you.
I like it much the better.
So doe I too.
How showes it by night?
Outshines Cinthia's rayes:
You'le like it better farre a nights than dayes.
And what's the price?
Your life and if you have it.—
Oh my Lord we will not jarre about the price;
Come to my house and I will giv't your honour—
With a vengeance.
No, Barabas, I will deserve it first.
Good Sir,
Your father has deserv'd it at my hands,
Who of meere charity and Christian ruth,
To bring me to religious purity,
And as it were in Catechising sort,
To make me mindfull of my mortall sinnes,
Against my will, and whether I would or no,
Seiz'd all I had, and thrust me out a doves,
And made my house a place for Nuns most chast.
No doubt your soule shall reape the fruit of it.
I, but my Lord, the harvest is farre off:
And yet I know the prayers of those Nuns
And holy Fryers, having mony for their paines,
Are wondrous; and indeed doe no man good:
And seeing they are not idle, but still doing,
'Tis likely they in time may reape some fruit,
I meane in fulnesse of perfection.
Good Barabas glance not at our holy Nuns.
No, but I doe it through a burning zeale,
Hoping ere long to set the house a fire;
For though they doe a while increase and multiply,
I'le have a saying to that Nunnery.
As for the Diamond, Sir, I told you of,
Come home and there's no price shall make us part,
Even for your Honourable fathers sake.
It shall goe hard but I will see your death.
But now I must be gone to buy a slave.
And, Barabas, I'le beare thee company.

Come then, here's the marketplace; whats the price of
this slave, two hundred Crowns? Do the Turkes weigh so much?

1. Officer
Sir, that's his price.
What, can he steale that you demand so much?
Belike he has some new tricke for a purse;
And if he has, he is worth three hundred plats.
So that, being bought, the Towne-seale might be got
To keepe him for his life time from the gallowes.
The Sessions day is criticall to theeves,
And few or none scape but by being purg'd.

Ratest thou this Moorebut at two hundred plats?

1. Officer
No more, my Lord.

Why should this Turke be dearer then that Moore?

1. Officer
Because he is young and has more qualities.

What, hast the Philosophers stone? and thou hast,
breake my head with it, I'le forgive thee.

No Sir, I can cut and shave.

Let me see, sirra, are you not an old shaver?

Alas, Sir, I am a very youth.

A youth? I'le buy you, and marry you to Lady vanity,
if you doe well.

I will serve you, Sir.

Some wicked trick or other. It may be under colourof
shaving, thou'lt cut my throat for my goods.
Tell me, hast thou thy health well?

I, passing well.

So much the worse; I must have one that's sickly, and
be but for sparing vittles: 'tis not a stone of beef a day will main-
taine you in these chops; let me see one that's somewhat leaner.

2. Officer
Here's a leaner, how like you him?

Where was thou borne?

In Trace; brought up in Arabia.

So much the better, thou art for my turne.
An hundred Crownes, I'le have him; there's the coyne.
1. Officer
Then marke him, Sir, and take him hence.
I, marke him, you were best, for this is he
That by my helpe shall doe much villanie.
My Lord farewell: Come Sirra 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,Mater.
What makes the Jew and Lodowicke so private?
I feare me 'tis about faire Abigall.
Yonder comes Don Mathias, let us stay;
He loves my daughter, and she holds him deare:
But I have sworne to frustrate both their hopes,
And be reveng'd upon the —Governor.
[Exit Lodowicke.]
This Moore is comeliest, is he not? speake son.
No, this is the better, mother, view this well.
Seeme 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;
Thinke of me as thy father; Sonne farewell.
But wherefore talk'd Von Lodowick with you?
Tush man, we talk'd of Diamonds, not of Abigal.
Tell me, Mathias, is not that the Jew?
As for the Comment on the Machabees
I have it, Sir, and 'tis at your command.
Yes, Madam, and my talke with him was but
About the borrowing of a booke or two.
Converse not with him, he is cast off from heaven.
Thou hast thy Crownes, fellow, come let's away.
Exeunt [Mater and slave].
Sirra, Jew, remember the booke.
Marry will I, Sir.
[Exit Mathias.]
1. Officer
Come, I have made a reasonable market,
Lets away.
[Exeunt Officers with slaves.]
Now let me know thy name, and therewithall
Thy birth, condition, and profession.
Faith, Sir, my birth is but meane, my name's Ithimor,
My profession what you please.
Hast thou no Trade? then listen to my words,
And I will teach thee that shall sticke by thee:
First be thou voyd of these affections,
Compassion, love, vaine hope, and hartlesse feare,
Be mov'd at nothing, see thou pitty none,
But to thy selfe smile when the Christians moane.
Oh brave, master, I worship your nose for this.
As for my selfe, I walke abroad a nights
And kill sicke people groaning under walls:
Sometimes I goe about and poyson wells;
And now and then, to cherish Christian theeves,
I am content to lose some of my Crownes;
That I may, walking in my Gallery,
See 'em goe pinion'd along by my dove.
Being young I studied Physicke, and began
To practice first upon the Italian;
There I enrich'd the Priests with burials,
And alwayes kept the Sexton's armes in ure
With digging graves and ringing dead mens keels:
And after that I was an Engineere,
And in the warres 'twixt France and Germanie,
Under presence 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 Jailes with Bankrouts in a yeare,
And with young Orphans planted Hospitals,
And every Moone made some or other mad,
And now and then one hang himselfe for griefe,
Pinning upon his breast a long great Scrowle
How I with interest tormented him.
But marke how I am blest for plaguing them,
I have as much coyne as will buy the Towne.
But tell me now, How hast thou spent thy time?
Faith, Master,
In setting christian villages on fire,
Chaining of Eunuches, binding gally-slaves.
One time I was an Hostler in an Inne,
And in the night time secretly would I steale
To travellers Chambers, and there cut their throats:
Once at Jerusalem, where the pilgrims kneel'd,
I strowed powder on the Marble stones,
And therewithall their knees would ranckle, so
That I have laugh'd agood to see the cripples
Goe limping home to Christendome on stilts.
Why this is something: make account of me
As of thy fellow; we are villaines both:
Both circumcized, we hate Christians both:
Be true and secret, thou shalt want no gold.
But stand aside, here comes Don Lodowicke.
Enter Lodowicke.
Oh Barabas well met;
Where is the Diamond you told me of?
I have it for you, Sir; please you walke in with me:
What, ho, Abigall; open the doore I say.
Enter Abigall.
In good time, father, here are letters come
From Ormus, and the Post stayes here within.
Give me the letters, daughter, doe you heare?
Entertaine Lodowicke the Governors sonne
With all the curtesie you can affoord;
Provided, that you keepe your Maiden-head.
Use him as if he were a—Philistine.
Dissemble, sweare, protest, vow to love him,
He is not of the seed of Abraham.
I am a little busie, Sir, pray pardon me.
Abigall, bid him welcome for my sake.
For your sake and his own he's welcome hither.
Daughter, a word more; kisse him, speake him faire,
And like a cunning Jew so cast about,
That ye be both made sure e're you come out.
O father, Don Mathias is my love.
I know it: yet I say make love to him;
Doe, it is requisite it should be so.
Nay on my life it is my Factors hand,
But goe you in, I'le thinke upon the account:
[Exeunt Lodowicke and Abigall.]
The account is made, for Lodovico dyes.
My Factor sends me word a Merchant's fled
That owes me for a hundred Tun of Wine:
I weigh it thus much; I have wealth enough.
For now by this has he kist Abigall;
And she vowes love to him, and hee to her.
As sure as heaven rain'd Manna for the Jewes,
So sure shall he and Don Mathias dye:
His father was my chiefest enemie.
Enter Mathias.
Whither goes Don Mathias? stay a while.
Whither but to my faire love Abigall?
Thou know'st, and heaven can witnesse it is true,
That I intend my daughter shall be thine.
I, Barabas, or else thou wrong'st me much.
Oh heaven forbid I should have such a thought.
Pardon me though I weepe; the Governors sonne
Will, whether I will or no, have Abigall:
He sends her letters, bracelets, jewels, rings.
Does she receive them?
Shee? No, Mathias, no, but sends them backe,
And when he comes, she lockes her selfe up fast;
Yet through the key-hole will he talke to her,
While she runs to the window looking out
When you should come and hale him from the doore.
Oh treacherous Lodowicke!
Even now as I came home, he slips me in,
And I am sure he is with Abigall.
I'le rouze him thence.
Not for all Malta, therefore sheath your sword;
If you love me, no quarrels in my house;
But steale you in, and seeme to see him not;
I'le give him such a warning e're he goes
As he shall have small hopes of Abigall.
Away, for here they come.
Enter Lodowicke, Abigall.
What, hand in hand, I cannot suffer this.
Mathias, as thou lov'st me, not a word.
Well, let it passe, another time shall serve.
Barabas, is not that the widowes sonne?
I, and take heed, for he hath sworne your death.
My death? what, is the base borne peasant mad?
No, no, but happily he stands in feare
Of that which you, I thinke, ne're dreame upon,
My daughter here, a paltry silly girle.
Why, loves she Don Mathias?
Doth she not with her smiling answer you?
He has my heart, I smile against my will.
Barabas, thou know'st I have lov'd thy daughter long.
And so has she done you, even from a child.
And now I can no longer hold my minde.
Nor I the affection that I beare to you.
This is thy Diamond, tell me, shall I have it?
Win it, and weare it, it is yet unfoyl'd.
Oh but I know your Lordship wud disdaine
To marry with the daughter of a Jew:
And yet I'le give her many a golden crosse
With Christian posies round about the ring.
'Tis not thy wealth, but her that I esteeme,
Yet crave I thy consent.
And mine you have, yet let me talke to her;
This offspring of Cain, this Jebusite
That never tasted of the Passeover,
Nor e're shall see the land of Canaan,
Nor our Messias that is yet to come,
This gentle Magot, Lodowicke I meane,
Must be deluded: let him have thy hand,
But keepe thy heart till Don Mathias comes.
What, shall I be betroth'd to Lodowicke?
It's no sinne to deceive a Christian;
For they themselves hold it a principle,
Faith is not to be held with Heretickes;
But all are Hereticks that are not Jewes;
This followes well, and therefore daughter feare not.
I have intreated her, and she will grant.
Then gentle Abigal plight thy faith to me.
I cannot chuse, seeing my father bids:—
Nothing but death shall part my love and me.
Now have I that for which my soule hath long'd.
So have not I, but yet I hope I shall.
Oh wretched Abigal, what hast thou done?
Why on the sudden is your colour chang'd?
I know not, but farewell, I must be gone.
Stay her,— but let her not speake one word more.
Mute a the sudden; here's a sudden change.
Oh muse not at it, 'tis the Hebrewes guize,
That maidens new betroth'd should weepe a while:
Trouble her not, sweet Lodowicke depart:
Shee is thy wife, and thou shalt be mine heire.

Oh, is't the custome, then I am resolv'd:
But rather let the brightsome heavens be dim,
And Natures beauty choake with stifeling clouds,
Then my faire Abigal should frowne on me.
There comes the villaine, now I'le be reveng'd.
Enter Mathias.

Be quiet Lodowicke, it is enough
That I have made thee sure to Abigal.

Well, let him goe.

Well, but for me, as you went in at dores
You had bin stab'd, but not a word on't now;
Here must no speeches passe, nor swords be drawne.

Suffer me, Barabas, but to follow him.

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.

For this I'le have his heart.

Doe so; loe here I give thee Abigall.

What greater gift can poore Mathias have?
Shall Lodowicke rob me of so faire a love?
My life is not so deare as Abigall.

My heart misgives me, that to crosse your love,
Hee's with your mother, therefore after him.

What, is he gone unto my mother?

Nay, if you will, stay till she comes her selfe.

I cannot stay; for if my mother come,
Shee'll dye with griefe.

I cannot take my leave of him for teares:
Father, why have you thus incenst them both?

What's that to thee?

I'le make 'em friends againe.

You'll make 'em friends?
Are there not Jewes enow in Malta,
But thou must dote upon a Christian?
I will have Don Mathias, he is my love.
Yes, you shall have him: Goe put her in.
I, I'le put her in.
[Exit Abigall.]
Now tell me, Ithimore, how lik'st thou this?
Faith Master, I thinke by this
You purchase both their lives; is it not so?
True; and it shall be cunningly perform'd.
Oh, master, that I might have a hand in this.
I, so thou shalt, 'tis thou must doe the deed:
Take this and beare it to Mathias streight,
And tell him that it comes from Lodowicke.
Tis poyson'd, is it not?
No, no, and yet it might be done that way:
It is a challenge feign'd from Lodowicke.
Feare not, I'le so set his heart a fire,
That he shall verily thinke it comes from him.
I cannot choose but like thy readinesse:
Yet be not rash, but doe it cunningly.
As I behave my selfe in this, imploy me hereafter.
Away then.
So, now will I goe in to Lodowicke,
And like a cunning spirit feigne some lye,
Till I have set 'em both at enmitie.

Act Three, Scene One
Enter aCurtezane.
Since this Towne was besieg'd, my gaine growes cold:
The time has bin, that but for one bare night
A hundred Duckets have bin freely given:
But now against my will I must be chast.
And yet I know my beauty doth not faire.
From Venice Merchants, and from Padua
Were wont to come rare witted Gentlemen,
Schollers I meane, learned and liberall;
And now, save Pilia-borza, comes there none,
And he is very seldome from my house;
And here he comes.
Enter Pilia-borza.
Hold thee, wench, there's something for thee to spend.
'Tis silver, I disdaine it.
I, but the Jew has gold,
And I will have it or it shall goe hard.
Tell me, how cam'st thou by this?

Faith, walking the backe lanes through the Gardens
I chanc'd to cast mine eye up to the Jewes counting-house where
I saw some bags of mony, and in the night I clamber'd up with my
hooks, and as I was taking my choyce, I heard a rumbling in the
house; so I tooke onely this, and runne my way: but here's the
Jews man.

Enter Ithimore.
Hide the bagge.
Looke not towards him, let's away:
Zoon's what a looking thou keep'st, thou'lt betraye's anon.

O the sweetest face that ever I beheld! I know she is a
Curtezane by her attire: now would I give a hundred of the Jewes
Crownes that I had such a Concubine.

Well, I have deliver'd the challenge in such sort,
As meet they will, and fighting dye; brave sport.

Act Three, Scene Two
Enter Mathias.
This is the place, now Abigall shall see
Whether Mathias holds her deare or no.
Enter Lodowicke reading.
What, dares the villain write in such base terms?
I did it, and revenge it if thou dar'st.
Fight: Enter Barabas above.
Oh bravely fought, and yet they thrust not home.
Now Lodowicke, now Mathias, so;
[Kill each other.]
So, now they have shew'd themselves to be tall fellowes.
Part 'em, part 'em.
I, part 'em now they are dead: Farewell, farewell.
Enter Governor, Mater [attended].
What sight is this? my Lodovico slaine!
These armes of mine shall be thy Sepulchre.
Who is this; my sonne Mathias slaine!
Oh Lodowicke! hadst thou perish'd by the Turke,
Wretched Ferneze might have veng'd thy death.
Thy sonne slew mine, and I'le revenge his death.
Looke, Katherin, looke, thy sonne gave mine these wounds.
Oh leave to grieve me, I am griev'd enough.
Oh that my sighs could turne to lively breath;
And these my teares to blood, that he might live.
Who made them enemies?
I know not, and that grieves me most of all.
My sonne lov'd thine.
And so did Lodowicke him.
Lend me that weapon that did kill my sonne,
And it shall murder me.
Nay Madam stay, that weapon was my son's,
And on that rather should Ferneze dye.
Hold, let's inquire the causers of their deaths,
That we may venge their blood upon their heads.
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 sighes and teares,
And with my prayers pierce th'impartiall heavens,
Till they reveal the causers of our smarts,
Which forc'd their hands divide united hearts:
Come, Katherine, our losses equall are,
Then of true griefe let us take equall share.

Act Three, Scene Three
Enter Ithimore.
Why, was there ever seene such villany,
So neatly plotted, and so well perform'd?
Both held in hand, and flatly both beguil'd.
Enter Abigall.
Why, how now Ithimore, why laugh'st thou so?
Oh, Mistresse, ha ha ha.
Why what ayl'st thou?
Oh my master.

Oh Mistris! I have the bravest, gravest, secret, subtil,
bottle-nos'd knave to my Master, that ever Gentleman had.

Say, knave, why rail'st upon my father thus?
Oh, my master has the bravest policy.
Why, know you not?
Why, no.
Know you not of Mathias and Don Lodowickes disaster?
No, what was it?

Why the devil invented a challenge, my master writ it,
and I carried it, first to Lodowicke, and imprimis to Mathias.

And then they met, and as the story sayes,
In dolefull wise they ended both their dayes.
And was my father furtherer of their deaths?
Am I Ithimore?
So sure did your father write, and I cary the chalenge.
Well, Ithimore, let me request thee this,
Goe to the new made Nunnery, and inquire
For any of the Fryars of Saint Jaques,
And say, I pray them come and speake with me.

I pray, mistris, wil you answer me to one question?

Well, sirra, what is't?

A very feeling one; have not the Nuns fine sport with
the Fryars now and then?

Go to, sirra sauce, is this your question? get ye gon.

I will forsooth, Mistris.

Hard-hearted Father, unkind Barabas,
Was this the pursuit of thy policie?
To make me shew them favour severally,
That by my favour they should both be slaine?
Admit thou lov'dst not Lodowicke for his sire,
Yet Don Mathias ne're offended thee:
But thou wert set upon extreme revenge,
Because the Pryor dispossess thee once,
And couldst not venge it, but upon his sonne,
Nor on his sonne, but by Mathias meanes;
Nor on Mathias, but by murdering me.
But I perceive there is no love on earth,
Pitty in Jewes, nor piety in Turkes.
But here comes cursed Ithimore with the Fryar.
Enter Ithimore, 1. Fryar.
1. Fryar.
Virgo, Virgo.
When, ducke you?
Welcome grave Fryar; Ithamore begon,
[Exit Ithimore]
Know, holy Sir, I am bold to sollicite thee.
1. Fryar<
To get me be admitted for a Nun.
1. Fryar<
Why Abigal it is not yet long since
That I did labour thy admition,
And then thou didst not like that holy life.
Then were my thoughts so fraile and unconfirm'd,
And I was chain'd to follies of the world:
But now experience, purchased with griefe,
Has made me see the difference of things.
My sinfull soule, alas, hath pac'd too long
The fatall Labyrinth of misbeleefe,
Farre from the Sonne that gives eternall life.
1. Fryar<
Who taught thee this?
The Abbasse of the house
Whose zealous admonition I embrace:
Oh therefore, Jacomo, let me be one,
Although unworthy of that Sister-hood.
1. Fryar<
Abigal I will, but see thou change no more,
For that will be most heavy to thy soule.
That was my father's fault.
1. Fryar
Thy father's, how?
Nay, you shall pardon me: oh Barabas,
Though thou deservest hardly at my hands,
Yet never shall these lips bewray thy life.
1. Fryar
Come, shall we goe?
My duty waits on you.

Act Three, Scene Four
Enter Barabas reading a letter.
What, Abigall become a Nunne againe?
False, and unkinde; what, hast thou lost thy father?
And all unknowne, and unconstrain'd of me,
Art thou againe got to the Nunnery?
Now here she writes, and wils me to repent.
Repentance? Spurca: what pretendeth this?
I feare she knowes ('tis so) of my device
In Don Mathias and Lodovicoes deaths:
If so, 'tis time that it be seene into:
For she that varies from me in beleefe
Gives great presumption that she loves me not;
Or loving, doth dislike of something done.
[Enter Ithimore.]
But who comes here? Oh Ithimore come neere;
Come neere, my love, come neere, thy masters life,
My trusty servant, nay, my second selfe;
For I have now no hope but even in thee;
And on that hope my happinesse is built:
When saw'st thou Abigall?
To day.
With whom?
A Fryar.
A Fryar? false villaine, he hath done the deed.
How, Sir?
Why, made mine Abigall a Nunne.
That's no Iye, for she sent me for him.
Oh unhappy day,
False, credulous, inconstant Abigall!
But let 'em goe: And Ithimore, from hence
Ne're shall she grieve me more with her disgrace;
Ne're shall she live to inherit ought of mine,
Be blest of me, nor come within my gates,
But perish underneath my bitter curse
Like Cain by Adam, for his brother's death.
Oh master.
Ithimore, intreat not for her, I am mov'd,
And she is hatefull to my soule and me:
And less thou yeeld to this that I intreat,
I cannot thinke but that thou hat'st my life.

Who I, master? Why I'le run to some rocke and throw
my selfe headlong into the sea; why I'le doe any thing for your
sweet sake.

Oh trusty lthimore; no servant, but my friend;
I here adopt thee for mine onely heire,
All that I have is thine when I am dead,
And whilst I live use halfe; spend as my selfe;
Here take my keyes, I'le give 'em thee anon.
Goe buy thee garments: but thou shalt not want:
Onely know this, that thus thou art to doe:
But first goe fetch me in the pot of Rice
That for our supper stands upon the fire.
I hold my head my master's hungry: I goe Sir.
Thus every villaine ambles after wealth
Although he ne're be richer then in hope:
But hush't.
Enter Ithimorewith the pot.
Here 'tis, Master.
Well said, Ithimore;
What, hast thou brought the Ladle with thee too?

Yes, Sir, the proverb saies, he that eats with the devil
had need of a long spoone. I have brought you a Ladle.

Very well, Ithimore, then now be secret;
And for thy sake, whom I so dearely love,
Now shalt thou see the death of Abigall,
That thou mayst freely live to be my heire.

Why, master, wil you poison her with a messe of rice
porredge? that wil preserve life, make her round and plump, and
batten more then you are aware.

I but Ithimore seest thou this?
It is a precious powder that I bought
Of an Italian in Ancona once,
Whose operation is to binde, infect,
And poyson deeply: yet not appeare
In forty houres after it is tane.
How master?
Thus Ithimore:
This Even they use in Malta here ('tis call'd
Saint Jaques Even) and then I say they use
To send their Almes unto the Nunneries:
Among the rest beare this, and set it there;
There's a darke entry where they take it in,
Where they must neither see the messenger,
Nor make enquiry who hath sent it them.
How so?
Belike there is some Ceremony in't.
There Ithimore must thou goe place this pot:
Stay, let me spice it first.

Pray doe, and let me help you, master. Pray let me
taste first.

Prethe doe: what saist thou now?

Troth master, I'm loth such a pot of pottage should be

Peace, Ithimore, tis better so then spar'd.
Assure thy selfe thou shalt have broth by the eye.
My purse, my Coffer, and my selfe is shine.
Well, master, I goe.
Stay, first let me stirre it Ithimore.
As fatall be it to her as the draught
Of which great Alexander drunke, and dyed:
And with her let it worke like Borgias wine,
Whereof his sire, the Pope, was poysoned.
In few, the blood of Hydra, Lerna's bane;
The jouyce of Hebon, and Cocitus breath,
And all the poysons of the Stygian poole
Breake from the fiery kingdome; and in this
Vomit your venome, and invenome her
That like a fiend hath left her father thus.

What a blessing has he given't? was ever pot of
rice porredge so sauc't? what shall I doe with it?

Oh my sweet Ithimore go set it downe
And come againe so soone as thou hast done,
For I have other businesse for thee.

Here's a drench to poyson a whole stable of Flanders
mares: I'le carry's to the Nuns with a powder.

And the horse pestilence to boot; away.
I am gone.
Pay me my wages for my worke is done.
Ile pay thee with a vengeance lthamore.

Act Three, Scene Five
Enter Governor, Bosco, Knights, [Callapine, the] Bashaw.]

Welcome, great Bashaw, how fares Callymath,
what wind drives you thus into Malta rhode?

The wind that bloweth all the world besides,
Desire of gold.
Desire of gold, great Sir?
That's to be gotten in the Westerne Inde:
In Malta are no golden Minerals.
To you of Malta thus saith Calymath:
The time you tooke for respite, is at hand,
For the performance of your promise past;
And for the Tribute-mony I am sent.
Bashaw, in briefe, shalt have no tribute here,
Nor shall the Heathens live upon our spoyle:
First will we race the City wals our selves,
Lay waste the Iland, hew the Temples downe,
And shipping of our goods to Sicily,
Open an entrance for the wastfull sea,
Whose billowes beating the resistlesse bankes,
Shall overflow it with their refluence.
Well, Governor, since thou hast broke the league
By flat denyall of the promis'd Tribute,
Talke not of racing downe your City wals,
You shall not need trouble your selves so farre,
For Selim-Calymathshall come himselfe,
And with brasse-bullets batter downe your Towers,
And turne proud Malta to a wildernesse
For these intolerable wrongs of yours;
And so farewell.
And now you men of Malta looke about,
And let's provide to welcome Calymath:
Close your Port-cullise, charge your Basiliskes,
And as you profitably take up Armes,
So now couragiously encounter them;
For by this Answer, broken is the league,
And nought is to be look'd for now but warres,
And nought to us more welcome is then wars.

Act Three, Scene Six
Enter [the] two Fryars.
1. Fryar
Oh brother, brother, all the Nuns are sicke,
And Physicke will not helpe them; they must dye.
2. Fryar
The Abbasse sent for me to be confest:
Oh what a sad confession will there be?
1. Fryer
And so did faire Maria send for me:
I'le to her lodging; hereabouts she lyes.
Enter Abigall.
2. Fryar
What, all dead save onely Abigall?
And I shall dye too, for I feele death comming.
Where is the Fryar that converst with me?
2. Fryar
Oh he is gone to see the other Nuns.
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,
Chast, and devout, much sorrowing for my sinnes,
But e're I came—
2. Fryar
What then?
I did offend high heaven so grievously,
As I am almost desperate for my sinnes:
And one offence torments me more then all.
You knew Mathias and Don Lodowicke?
2. Fryar
Yes, what of them?
My father did contract me to 'em both:
First to Don Lodowicke, him I never lov'd;
Mathias was the man that I held deare,
And for his sake did I become a Nunne.
2. Fryar
So, say how was their end?
Both jealous of my love, envied each other:
And by my father's practice, which is there
Set downe at large, the Gallants were both slaine.
[Gives paper.]
2. Fryar
Oh monstrous villany.
To worke my peace, this I confesse to thee;
Reveale it not, for then my father dyes.
2. Fryar
Know that Confession must not be reveal'd,
The Canon Law forbids it, and the Priest
That makes it knowne, being degraded first,
Shall be condemn'd, and then sent to the fire.
So I have heard; pray therefore keepe it close.
Death seizeth on my heart: ah gentle Fryar,
Convert my father that he may be sav'd,
And witnesse that I dye a Christian.
2. Fryar
I, and a Virgin too, that grieves me most:
But I must to the Jew and exclaime on him,
And make him stand in feare of me.
Enter 1. Fryar.
1. Fryar
Oh brother, all the Nuns are dead, let's bury them.
2. Fryar.
First helpe to bury this, then goe with me
And helpe me to exclaime against the Jew.
1. Fryar
Why? what has he done?
2. Fryar
A thing that makes me tremble to unfold.
1. Fryar
What, has he crucified a child?
2. Fryar
No, but a worse thing: 'twas told me in shrift,
Thou know'st 'tis death and if it be reveal'd.
Come let's away.

Act Four, Scene One
Enter Barabas, Ithamore. Bells within.
There is no musicke to a Christians knell:
How sweet the Bels ring now the Nuns are dead
That sound at other times like Tinkers pans?
I was afraid the poyson had not wrought;
Or though it wrought, it would have done no good,
For every yeare they swell, and yet they live;
Now all are dead, not one remaines alive.
That's brave, master, but think you it wil not be known?
How can it if we two be secret.
For my part feare you not.
I'de cut thy throat if I did.
And reason too;
But here's a royall Monastry hard by,
Good master let me poyson all the Monks.
Thou shalt not need, for now the Nuns are dead.
They'll dye with griefe.
Doe you not sorrow for your daughters death?
No, but I grieve because she liv'd so long.
An Hebrew bome, and would become a Christian?
Cazzo, diabolo.
Enter the two Fryars.
Look, look, master, here come two religious Caterpillers.
I smelt 'em e're they came.
God-a-mercy nose; come let's begone.
2. Fryer
Stay wicked Jew, repent, I say, and stay.
1. Fryer
Thou hast offended, therefore must be damn'd.
I feare they know we sent the poyson'd broth.
And so doe I, master, therefore speake 'em faire.
2. Fryar
Barabas, thou hast—
1. Fryar
I, that thou hast—
True, I have mony, what though I have?
2. Fryar
Thou art a—
1. Fryar
I, that thou art a—
What needs all this? I know I am a Jew.
2. Fryar
Thy daughter—
1. Fryar
I, thy daughter—

Oh speake not of her, then I dye with griefe.

2. Fryar
Remember that—
1. Fryar
I, remember that—
I must needs say that I have beene a great usurer.
2. Fryar
Thou hast committed—
Fornication? but that was in another Country:
And besides, the Wench is dead.
2. Fryar
I, but Barabas, remember Mathias and Don Lodowick.
Why, what of them?
2. Fryar
I will not say that by a forged challenge they met.
She has confest, and we are both undone,
My bosome inmate, but I must dissemble.
Oh holy Fryars, the burthen of my sinnes
Lye heavy on my soule; then pray you tell me,
Is't not too late now to turne Christian?
I have beene zealous in the Jewish faith,
Hard harted to the poore, a covetous wretch,
That would for Lucars sake have sold my soule.
A hundred for a hundred I have tane;
And now for store of wealth may I compare
With all the Jewes in Malta but what is wealth?
I am a Jew, and therefore am I lost.
Would pennance serve for this my sinne,
I could afford to whip my selfe to death.
And so could I; but pennance will not serve.
To fast, to pray, and weare a shirt of haire,
And on my knees creepe to Jerusalem.
Cellers of Wine, and Sollers full of Wheat,
Ware-houses stuft with spices and with drugs,
Whole Chests of Gold, in Bullion, and in Coyne,
Besides I know not how much weight in Pearle
Orient and round, have I within my house;
At Alexendria, Merchandize unsold:
But yesterday two ships went from this Towne,
Their voyage will be worth ten thousand Crownes.
In Florence, Venice, Antwerpe, London, Civill,
Frankeford, Lubecke, Mosco, and where not,
Have I debts owing; and in most of these,
Great summes of mony lying in the bancho;
All this I'le give to some religious house
So I may be baptiz'd and live therein.
1. Fryar
Oh good Barabas come to our house.
2. Fryar
Oh no, good Barabas come to our house.
And Barabas, you know—
I know that I have highly sinn'd,
You shall convert me, you shall have all my wealth.
[Aside to 2. Fryar.]
1. Fryar
Oh Barabas, their Lawes are strict.
I know they are, and I will be with you.
[Aside to 2. Fryar.]
1. Fryar
They weare no shirts, and they goe bare-foot too.
Then 'tis not for me; and I am resolv'd
You shall confesse me, and have all my goods.
[Aside to 1. Fryar.]
2. Fryar
Good Barabas, come to me.
You see I answer him, and yet he stayes;
Rid him away, and goe you home with me.
[Aside to 1. Fryar.]
2. Fryar
I'le be with you to night.
Come to my house at one a clocke this night.
[Aside to 2. Fryar.]
1. Fryar
You heare your answer, and you may be gone.
2. Fryar
Why goe, get you away.
1. Fryar
I will not goe for thee.
2. Fryar
Not? then I'le make thee, rogue.
1. Fryar
How, cost call me rogue?
Part 'em, master, part 'em.
This is meere frailty, brethren, be content.
Fryar Barnardine goe you with Ithimore.
You know my mind, let me clone with him.
[Aside to 2. Fryar.]
1. Fryar
Why does he goe to thy house? let him begone.
Exit [Ithimore and 2. Fryar].
I'le give him something and so stop his mouth.
I never heard of any man but he
Malign'd the order of the Jacobines:
But doe you thinke that I beleeve his words?
Why, Brother, you converted Abigall;
And I am bound in charitie to requite it,
And so I will, oh Jacomo, faile not but come.
1. Fryar
But Barabas, who shall be your godfathers,
For presently you shall be shriv'd.
Marry the Turke shall be one of my godfathers,
But not a word to any of your Covent.
1. Fryar
I warrant thee, Barabas.
So, now the feare is past, and I am safe:
For he that shriv'd her is within my house.
What if I murder'd him e're 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 dye;
The other knowes enough to have my life,
Therefore 'tis not requisite he should live.
But are not both these wise men to suppose
That I will leave my house, my goods, and all,
To fast and be well whips; I'le none of that.
Now Fryar Bernardine I come to you,
I'le feast you, lodge you, give you faire words,
And after that, I and my trusty Turke—
No more but so: it must and shall be done.
Ithimore, tell me, is the Fryar asleepe?
Enter Ithimore.

Yes; and I know not what the reason is:
Doe what I can he will not strip himselfe,
Nor goe to bed, but sleepes in his owne clothes;
I feare me he mistrusts what we intend.
No, 'tis an order which the Fryars use:
Yet if he knew our meanings, could he scape?
No, none can heare him, cry he ne're so loud.
Why true, therefore did I place him there:
The other Chambers open towards the street.
You loyter, master, wherefore stay we thus?
Oh how I long to see him shake his heeles.
Come on, sirra,
Off with your girdle, make a hansom noose;
Fryar, awake.
2. Fryar
What, doe you meane to strangle me?
Yes, 'cause you use to confesse.
Blame not us but the proverb, Confes and be hang'd.
Pull hard.
2. Fryar
What, will you have my life?
Pull hard, I say, you would have had my goods.
I, and our lives too, therefore pull amaine.
'Tis neatly done, Sir, here's no print at all.
Then is it as it should be, take him up.

Nay, master, be rul'd by me a little; so, let him leane
upon his staffe; excellent, he stands as if he were begging of

Who would not thinke but that this Fryar liv'd?
What time a night is't now, sweet Ithimore?
Towards one.
Then will not Jacomo be long from hence.
[They go aside.]
Enter [1. Fryar] Jacomo.
1. Fryar
This is the houre
Wherein I shall proceed; Oh happy houre,
Wherein I shall convert an Infidell,
And bring his gold into our treasury.
But soft, is not this Bernardine? it is;
And understanding I should come this way,
Stands here a purpose, meaning me some wrong,
And intercept my going to the Jew;
Wilt thou not speake? thou think'st I see thee not;
Away, I'de wish thee, and let me goe by:
No, wilt thou not? nay then I'le force my way;
And see, a staffe stands ready for the purpose:
As thou lik'st that, stop me another time.
Strike him, he fals. Enter [come forward] Barabas [and Ithimore].

Why, how now Jacomo, what hast thou done?

1. Fryar
Why, stricken him that would have stroke at me.

Who is it? Bernardine? now out alas,
He is slaine.

I, master, he's slain; look how his brains drop out on's

1. Fryar
Good sirs I have don't, but no body knowes it but you
two, I may escape.

So might my man and I hang with you for company.

No, let us beare him to the Magistrates.

1. Fryar
Good Barabas let me goe.

No, pardon me, the Law must have his course.
I must be forc'd to give in evidence,
That being importun'd by this Bernardine
To be a Christian, I shut him out,
And there he sate: now I to keepe my word,
And give my goods and substance to your house,
Was up thus early; with intent to goe
Unto your Friery, because you staid.

Fie upon 'em, master, will you turne Christian, when
holy Friars turne devils and murder one another.

No, for this example I'le remaine a Jew:
Heaven blesse me; what, a Fryar a murderer?
When shall you see a Jew commit the like?
Why, a Turke could ha done no more.
To morrow is the Sessions; you shall to it.
Come Ithimore, let's helpe to take him hence.
1. Fryar
Villaines, I am a sacred person, touch me not.
The Law shall touch you, we'll but lead you, we:
'Las I could weepe at your calamity.
Take in the staffe too, for that must be showne:
Law wils that each particular be knowne.

Act Four, Scene Two
Enter Curtezane, and Pilia- borza.

Pilia-borza, didst thou meet with Ithimore?

I did.

And didst thou deliver my letter?

I did.

And what think'st thou, will he come?

I think so, and yet I cannot tell, for at the reading
of the letter, he look'd like a man of another world.

Why so?

That such a base slave as he should be saluted by
such a tall man as I am, from such a beautifull dame as you.

And what said he?

Not a wise word, only gave me a nod, as who shold
say, Is it even so; and so I left him, being driven to a non- plus at
the critical aspect of my terrible countenance.

And where didst meet him?

Upon mine owne free hold within fortie foot of the
gallowes, conning his neck-verse I take it, looking of a Fryars
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 being done, see where he comes.

Enter Ithimore.

I never knew a man take his death so patiently as this
Fryar: he was ready to leape off e're the halter was about his
necke; and when the Hangman had put on his hempen Tippet,
he made such haste to his prayers, as if hee had had another
Cure to serve; well, goe whither he will, I'le be none of his
followers in haste:
And now I thinke on's, going to the execution, a fellow met me
with a muschatoes like a Ravens 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 cleane 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 my selfe: 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 looke upon her.

This is the Gentleman you writ to.

Gentleman, he flouts me, what gentry can be in a
pooreTurke of ten pence? I'le be gone. [Aside.]

Is't not a sweet fac'd youth, Pilia?

Agen, sweet youth; did not you, Sir, bring the sweet
youth a letter?

I did Sir, and from this Gentlewoman, who as my
selfe, and the rest of the family, stand or fall at your service.

Though womans modesty should hale me backe,
I can with-hold no longer; welcome sweet love.

[Kisse him.]

Now am I cleane, or rather fouly out of the way.


Whither so soone?

I'le goe steale some mony from my Master to make
me hansome: [Aside.]
Pray pardon me, I must goe see a ship discharg'd.

Canst thou be so unkind to leave me thus?

And ye did but know how she loves you, Sir.

Nay, I care not how much she loves me;

Sweet Bellamira, would I had my Masters wealth for thy sake.

And you can have it, Sir, and if you please.

If 'twere above ground I could, and would have it; but
tree hides and buries it up as Partridges doe their egges, under the

And is't not possible to find it out?

By no meanes possible.

What shall we doe with this base villaine then?
[Aside to Pilia-borza.]
Let me alone, doe but you speake him faire:
But you know some secrets of the Jew,
Which if they were reveal'd, would doe him harme.
I, and such as— Goe to, no more,
I'le make him send me half he has, and glad he scapes so too.
Pen and Inke:
I'le write unto him, we're have mony strait.
Send for a hundred Crownes at least.

Ten hundred thousand crownes, Master Barabas.

He writes
Write not so submissively, but threatning him.
Sirra Barabas, send me a hundred crownes.

Put in two hundred at least.

I charge thee send me three hundredby this bearer, and
this shall be your warrant; if you doe not, no more but so.

Tell him you will confesse.

Otherwise I'le confesse all:—

Vanish and returne in a twinckle.

Let me alone, I'le use him in his kinde.


Hang him, Jew.

Now, gentle Ithimore, lye in my lap.
Where are my Maids? provide a running Banquet;
Send to the Merchant, bid him bring me silkes,
Shall Ithimore my love goe in such rags?
And bid the Jeweller come hither too.
I have no husband, sweet, I'le marry thee.
Content, but we will leave this paltry land,
And saile from hence to Greece, to lovely Greece,
I'le be thy Jason, thou my golden Fleece;
Where painted Carpets o're the meads are hurl'd,
And Bacchus vineyards over-spread the world:
Where Woods and Forrests goe in goodly greene,
I'le be Adonis, thou shalt be Loves Queene.
The Meads, the Orchards, and the Primrose lanes,
Instead of Sedge and Reed, beare Sugar Canes:
Thou in those Groves, by Dis above,
Shalt live with me and be my love.
Whither will I not goe with gentle Ithimore?
Enter Pilea-borza.
How now? hast thou the gold?


[Gives him bag.]

But came it freely, did the Cow give down her milk

At reading of the letter, he star'd and stamp'd, and
turnd aside. I tooke him by the beard, and look'd upon him thus;
told him he were best to send it; then he hug'd and imbrac'd me.

Rather for feare then love.

Then like a Jew he laugh'd and jeer'd, and told me
he lov'd me for your sake, and said what a faithfull servant you
had bin.

The more villaine he to keep me thus:

Here's goodly 'parrell, is there not?

To conclude, he gave me ten crownes.

But ten? I'le not leave him worth a gray groat. Give me
a Reame of paper, we'll have a kingdome of gold for't.

Write for five hundred Crownes.

Sirra Jew, as you love your life send me five hundred
crowns, and give the Bearer one hundred. Tell him I must hav't.

I warrant your worship shall hav't.

And if he aske why I demand so much, tell him, I
scorne to write a line under a hundred crownes.

You'd make a rich Poet, Sir. I am gone.


Take thou the mony, spend it for my sake.

Tis not thy mony, but thy selfe I weigh:
Thus Bellamira esteemes of gold; [Throw it aside.]
But thus of thee

Kisse him.

That kisse againe; she runs division of my lips. What
an eye she casts on me? It twinckles like a Starre.

Come my deare love, let's in and sleepe together.

Oh that ten thousand nights were put in one,
That wee might sleepe seven yeeres together aforewe wake.

Come Amorous wag, first banquet and then sleep.

Act Four, Scene Three
Enter Barabas, reading a letter.
Barabas send me three hundred Crownes.
Plaine Barabas: oh that wicked Curtezane!
He was not wont to call me Barabas.
Or else I will confesse: I, there it goes:
But if I get him,Coupe de Gorgefor that.
He sent a shaggy totter'd staring slave,
That when he speakes, drawes out his grisly beard,
And winds it twice or thrice about his eare;
Whose face has bin a grind-stone for mens swords,
His hands are hacks, some fingers cut quite off;
Who when he speakes, grunts like a hog, and looks
Like one that is imploy'd in Catzerie
And crosbiting, such a Rogue
As is the husband to a hundred whores:
And I by him must send three hundred crownes.
Well, my hope is, he will not stay there still;
And when he comes: oh that he were but here!
Enter Pilia-borza.

Jew, I must ha more gold.

Why, wantst thou any of thy tale?

No; but three hundred will not serve his turne.

Not serve his turne, Sir?

No Sir; and therefore I must have five hundred more.

I'le rather—

Oh good words, Sir, and send it you, weere best se;
there's his letter.

Might he not as well come as send; pray bid him come
and fetch it: what tree writes for you, ye shall have streight.

I, and the rest too, or else—

I must make this villaine away: please you dine with me,
Sir, and you shal be most hartily poyson'd.

No god-a-mercy, shall I have these crownes?
I cannot doe it, I have lost my keyes.

Oh, if that be all, I can picke ope your locks.

Or climbe up to my Counting-house window: you know
my meaning.

I know enough, and therfore talke not to me of your
Counting-house: the gold, or know Jew it is in my power to
hang thee.

I am betraid.—
'Tis not five hundred Crownes that I esteeme,
I am not mov'd at that: this angers me,
That he who knowes I love him as my selfe
Should write in this imperious vaine! why Sir,
You know I have no childe, and unto whom
Should I leave all but unto Ithimore?

Here's many words but no crownes; the crownes.

Commend me to him, Sir, most humbly,
And unto your good mistris as unknowne.

Speake, shall I have 'um, Sir?

Sir, here they are.
Oh that I should part with so much gold!
Here take 'em, fellow, with as good a will—
As I wud see thee hang'd; oh, love stops my breath:
Never lov'd man servant as I doe Ithimore.

I know it, Sir.

Pray when, Sir, shall I see you at my house?

Soone enough to your cost, Sir:

Fare you well.

Nay to thine owne cost, villaine, if thou com'st.
Was ever Jew tormented as I am?
To have a shag-rag knave to come demand
Three hundred Crownes, and then five hundred Crownes?
Well, I must seeke a meanes to rid 'em all,
And presently: for in his villany
He will tell all he knowes and I shall dye for't.
I have it.
I will in some disguize goe see the slave,
And how the villaine revels with my gold.

Act Four, Scene Four
Enter Curtezane, Ithimore, Pilia-borza.
I'le pledge thee, love, and therefore drinke it off.
Saist thou me so? have at it; and doe you heare?
[Whispers her.]
Goe to, it shall be so.
Of that condition I wil drink it up; here's to thee.
Nay, I'le have all or none.
There, if thou lov'st me doe not leave a drop.
Love thee, fill me three glasses.
Three and fifty dozen, I'le pledge thee.
Knavely spoke, and like a Knight at Armes.
Hey Rivo Castiliano, a man's a man.
Now to the Jew.
Ha, to the Jew, and send me mony you were best.
What wudst thou doe if he should send thee none?
Doe?nothing; but I know what I know.
He's a murderer.
I had not thought he had been so brave a man.

You knew Mathias and the Governors son; he and I
kild 'em both, and yet never touch'd 'em.

Oh bravely done.

I carried the broth that poyson'd the Nuns, and he
and I, sniclehandtoofast, strangled a Fryar.

You two alone?

We two, and 'twas never knowne, nor never shall be
for me.

This shall with me unto the Governor.

[Aside to Bellamira.]
And fit it should: but first let's ha more gold.
[Aside to Pilia-borza.]
Come gentle Ithimore, lye in my lap.
Love me little, love me long, let musicke rumble,
Whilst I in thy incony lap doe tumble.
Enter Barabas with a Lute, disguis'd.
A French Musician, come let's heare your skill?
Must tuna my Lute for sound, twang twang first.

Wilt drinke French-man, here's to thee with a—pox on
this drunken hick-up.

Gramercy Mounsier.

Prethe, Pilia-borza, bid the Fidler give me the posey
in his hat there.

Sirra, you must give my mistris your posey.

A voustre commandemente Madam.

How sweet, my Ithimore, the flowers smell.

Like thy breath, sweet-hart, no violet like 'em.

Foh, me thinkes they stinke like a Holly-Hoke.

So, now I am reveng'd upon 'em all.
The scent thereof was death, I poyson'd it.

Play, Fidler, or I'le cut your cats guts into chitterlins.

Pardona moy, be no in tune yet; so, now, now all be in.

Give him a crowne, and fill me out more wine.

There's two crownes for thee, play.

How liberally the villian gives me mine own gold.


Me thinkes he fingers very well.

So did you when you stole my gold.


How swift he runnes.

Yourun swifter when you threw my gold out of my


Musician, hast beene in Malta long?

Two, three, foure month Madam.

Dost not know a Jew, one Barabas?

Very mush, Mounsier, you no be his man?

His man?

I scorne the Peasant, tell him so.

He knowes it already.


Tis a strange thing of that Jew, he lives upon pickled
Grashoppers, and sauc'd Mushrumbs.

What a slave's this?The Governour feeds not as I doe.


He never put on cleane shirt since he was circumcis'd.

Oh raskall! I change my selfe twice a day.


The Hat he weares, Judas left under the Elder when he hang'd himselfe.

'Twas sent me for a present from the great Cham.


A mastyslave he is.

Whether now, Fidler?

Pardona moy, Mounsier, mebe no well.


Farewell Fidler: One letter more to the Jew.

Prethe sweet love, one more, and write it sharp.

No, I'le send by word of mouth now;
Bid him deliver thee a thousand Crownes, by the same token, that
the Nuns lov'd Rice, that Fryar Bernardine slept in his owne
Any of 'em will doe it.

Let me alone to urge it now I know the meaning.

The meaning has a meaning; come let's in:
To undoe a Jew is charity, and not sinne.

Act Five, Scene One
Enter Governor, Knights, Martin Del Bosco.
Now, Gentlemen, betake you to your Armes,
And see that Malta be well fortifi'd;
And it behoves you to be resolute;
For Calymath having hover'd here so long,
Will winne the Towne, or dye before the wals.
1. Knight
And dye he shall, for we will never yeeld.
Enter Curtezane, Pilia- borza.
Oh bring us to the Governor.
Away with her, she is a Curtezane.
What e're I am, yet Governor heare me speake;
I bring thee newes by whom thy sonne was slaine:
Mathias did it not, it was the Jew.

Who, besides the slaughter of these Gentlemen,
poyson'd his owne daughter and the Nuns, strangled a Fryar,
and I know not what mischiefe beside.

Had we but proofe of this—

Strong proofe, my Lord, his man's now at my lodging
That was his Agent, he'll confesse it all.
Goe fetch him straight.
[Exit Officers.]
I alwayes fear'd that Jew.
Enter Jew, Ithimore [with Officers].
I'le goe alone, dogs, do not hale me thus.

Nor me neither, I cannot out-run you Constable, oh
my belly.

One dram of powder more had made all sure.
What a damn'd slave was I?

Make fires, heat irons, let the racke be fetch'd.

1. Knight
Nay stay, my Lord, 'tmay be he will confesse.
Confesse; what meane you, Lords, who should confesse?
Thou and thy Turk; 'twas you that slew my son.

Gilty, my Lord, I confesse; your sonne and Mathias
were both contracted unto Abigall;he forg'd a counterfeit

Who carried that challenge?

I carried it, I confesse, but who writ it?
Marry, even he that strangled Bernardine, poyson'd the Nuns, and
his owne daughter.

Away with him, his sight is death to me.
For what? you men of Malta, heare me speake;
Shee is a Curtezane and he a theefe,
And he my bondman, let me have law,
For none of this can prejudice my life.
Once more away with him; you shall have law.
Devils doe your worst, I'le live in spite of you.
As these have spoke so be it to their soules:—
I hope the poyson'd flowers will worke anon.
Exit [Barabas, Curtezane, Pilia-borza, with Officers].
Enter Mater.
Was my Mathias murder'd by the Jew?
Ferneze, 'twasthy sonne that murder'd him.
Be patient, gentle Madam, it was he,
He forged the daring challenge made them fight.
Where is the Jew, where is that murderer?
In prison till the Law has past on him.
Enter 1. Officer.
1. Officer
My Lord, the Curtezane and her man are dead; so
So is the Turke, and Barabas the Jew.
1. Officer
Dead, my Lord, and here they bring his body.
[Enter Officers carrying Barabas, as dead.]
This sudden death of his is very strange.
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 Jewes body, throw that o're the wals,
To be a prey for Vultures and wild beasts.
[They take body aside.]
So, now away and fortifie the Towne.
Exeunt. [Manet Barabas.]
What, all alone? well fare sleepy drinke.
I'le be reveng'd on this accursed Towne;
For by my meanes Calymath shall enter in.
I'le helpe to slay their children and their wives,
To fire the Churches, pull their houses downe,
Take my goods too, and seize upon my lands:
I hope to see the Governour a slave,
And, rowing in a Gally, whips to death.
Enter Calymath, Bashawes, Turkes.
Whom have we there, a spy?
Yes, my good Lord, one that can spy a place
Where you may enter, and surprize the Towne:
My name is Barabas; I am a Jew.
Art thou that Jew whose goods we heard were sold
For Tribute-mony?
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 imprison'd, but escap'd their hands.
Didst breake prison?

No, no:

I dranke of Poppy and cold mandrake juyce;
And being asleepe, belike they thought me dead,
And threw me o're the wals: so, or how else,
The Jew is here, and rests at your command.
'Twas bravely done: but tell me, Barabas,
Canst thou, as thou reportest, make Malta ours?
Feare not, my Lord, for here, against the sluice,
The rocke is hollow, and of purpose digg'd,
To make a passage for the running streames
And common channels of the City.
Now whilst you give assault unto the wals,
I'le lead five hundred souldiers through the Vault,
And rise with them i'th middle of the Towne,
Open the gates for you to enter in,
And by this meanes the City is your owne.
If this be true, I'le make thee Governor.
And if it be not true, then let me dye.
Thou'st doom'd thy selfe, assault it presently.

Act Five, Scene Two
Alarmes. Enter Turkes, Barabas, Governour, and Knights prisoners.
Now vaile your pride you captive Christians,
And kneele for mercy to your conquering foe:
Now where's the hope you had of haughty Spaine?
Ferneze, speake, had it not beene much better
To keep thy promise then be thus surpriz'd?
What should I say? we are captives and must yeeld.
I, villains, you must yeeld, and under Turkish yokes
Shall groping beare the burthen of our ire;
And Barabas, as erst we promis'd thee,
For thy desert we make thee Governor,
Use them at thy discretion.
Thankes, my Lord.
Oh fatall day, to fall into the hands
Of such a Traitor and unhallowed Jew!
What greater misery could heaven inflict?
'Tis our command: and Barabas we give
To guard thy person, these our Janizaries:
Intreat them well, as we have used thee.
And now, brave Bashawes, come, wee'll walke about
The ruin'd Towne, and see the wracke we made:
Farewell brave Jew, farewell great Barabas.
May all good fortune follow Calymath.
And now, as entrance to our safety,
To prison with the Governour and these
Captaines, his consorts and confederates.
Oh villaine, Heaven will be reveng'd on thee.
Exeunt. [Manes Barabas.]
Away, no more, let him not trouble me.
Thus hast thou gotten, by thy policie,
No simple place, no small authority,
I now am Governour of Malta; true,
But Malta hates me, and in hating me
My life's in danger, and what boots it thee
Poore Barabas, to be the Governour,
When as thy life shall be at their command ?
No, Barabas, this must be look'd into;
And since by wrong thou got'st Authority,
Maintaine it bravely by firme policy,
At least unprofitably lose it not:
For he that liveth in Authority,
And neither gets him friends, nor fils his bags,
Lives like the Asse that Aesope 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 shine opportunity, for feare too late
Thou seek'st for much, but canst not compasse it.
Within here.
Enter Governorwith a guard.

My Lord ?

I, Lord, thus slaves will learne.
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 happinesse,
Are at my Arbitrament; and Barabas
At his discretion may dispose of both:
Now tell me, Governor, and plainely too,
What thinkst thou shall become of it and thee?
This, Barabas; since things are in thy power,
I see no reason but of Malta's wracke,
Nor hope of thee but extreme cruelty,
Nor feare I death, nor will I flatter thee.
Governor, good words, be not so furious;
'Tis not thy life which can availe me ought,
Yet you doe live, and live for me you shall:
And as for Malta's ruine, thinke you not
'Twere slender policy for Barabas
To dispossesse himselfe of such a place?
For sith, as once you said, within this Ile
In Malta here, that I have got my goods,
And in this City still have had successe,
And now at length am growne your Governor,
Your selves shall see it shall not be forgot:
For as a friend not knowne, but in distresse,
I'le reare up Malta now remedilesse.
Will Barabas recover Malta's losse?
Will Barabas be good to Christians?
What wilt thou give me, Governor, to procure
A dissolution of the slavish Bands
Wherein the Turke hath yoak'd your land and you?
What will you give me if I render you
The life of Calymath, surprize his men,
And in an out-house of the City shut
His souldiers, till I have consum'd 'em all with fire?
What will you give him that procureth this?
Doe but bring this to passe which thou pretendest,
Deale truly with us as thou intimatest,
And I will send amongst the Citizens
And by my letters privately procure
Great summes of mony for thy recompence:
Nay more, doe this, and live thou Governor still.
Nay, doe thou this, Ferneze, and be free;
Governor, I enlarge thee, live with me,
Goe walke about the City, see thy friends:
Tush, send not letters to 'em, goe thy selfe,
And let me see what mony thou canst make;
Here is my hand that I'le set Malta free:
And thus we cast it: To a solemne feast
I will invite young Selim-Calymath,
Where be thou present onely to performe
One stratagem that I'le impart to thee,
Wherein no danger shall betide thy life,
And I will warrant Malta free for ever.
Here is my hand, beleeve me, Barabas,
I will be there, and doe as thou desirest;
When is the time?
Governor, presently.
For Callymath, when he hath view'd the Towne,
Will take his leave and saile toward Ottoman.
Then will I, Barabas, about this coyne,
And bring it with me to thee in the evening.
Doe so, but faire not; now farewell Ferneze:
[Exit Governor.]
And thus farre roundly goes the businesse:
Thus loving neither, will I live with both,
Making a profit of my policie;
And he from whom my most advantage comes,
Shall be my friend.
This is the life we Jewes are us'd to lead;
And reason too, for Christians doe the like:
Well, now about effecting this device:
First to surprize great Selims souldiers,
And then to make provision for the feast,
That at one instant all things may be done,
My policie detests prevention:
To what event my secret purpose drives,
I know; and they shall witnesse with their lives.

Act Five, Scene Three
Enter Calymath, Bashawes.
Thus have we view'd the City, scene the sacke,
And caus'd the wines to be new repair'd,
Which with our Bombards shot and Basiliske,
We rent in sunder at our entry:
And now I see the Scituation,
And how secure this conquer'd Iland stands
Inviron'd with the mediterranean Sea,
Strong contermin'dwith other petty Iles;
And toward Calabria,back'd by Sicily,
Where Siracusian Dionisius reign'd,
Two lofty Turrets that command the Towne.
I wonder how it could be conquer'd thus?
Enter a Messenger.
From Barabas, Malta's Governor, I bring
A message unto mighty Calymath;
Hearing his Soveraigne was bound for Sea,
To saile to Turkey, to great Ottoman,
He humbly would intreat your Majesty
To come and see his homely Citadell,
And banquet with him e're thou leav'st the Ile.
To banquet with him in his Citadell?
I feare me, Messenger, to feast my traine
Within a Towne of warre 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.
Selim, for that, thus saith the Governor,
That he hath in store a Pearle so big,
So precious, and withall so orient,
As be it valued but indifferently,
The price thereof will serve to entertaine
Selim and all his souldiers for a month;
Therefore he humbly would intreat your Highnesse
Not to depart till he has feasted you.
I cannot feast my men in Malta wals,
Except he place his Tables in the streets.
Know, Selim, that there is a monastery
Which standeth as an out-house to the Towne;
There will he banquet them, but thee at home,
With all thy Bashawes and brave followers.
Well, tell the Governor we grant his suit,
Wee'll in this Summer Evening feast with him.

I shall, my Lord. Exit.

And now, bold Bashawes, let us to our Tents,
And meditate how we may grace us best
To solemnize our Governors great feast.

Act Five, Scene Four
Enter Governor, Knights, Del-bosco.
In this, my Countrimen, be rul'd by me,
Have speciall care that no man sally forth
Till you shall heare a Culverin discharg'd
By him that beares the Linstocke, kindled thus;
Then issue out and come to rescue me,
For happily I shall be in distresse,
Or you released of this servitude.
1. Knight
Rather then thus to live as Turkish thrals,
What will we not adventure?
On then, begone.
1. Knight
Farewell grave Governor.

Act Five, Scene Five
Enter [Barabas] with a Hammar above, very busie.
[His men work with him.]
How stand the cords? How hang these hinges, fast?
Are all the Cranes and Pulleyes sure?
All fast.
Leave nothing loose, all leveld to my mind.
Why now I see that you have Art indeed.
There, Carpenters, divide that gold amongst you:
Goe swill in bowles of Sacke and Muscadine:
Downe to the Celler, taste of all my wines.
We shall, my Lord, and thanke you.
And if you like them, drinke your fill and dye:
For so I live, perish may all the world.
Now Selim-Calymath,returne me word
That thou wilt come, and I am satisfied.
Now sirra, what, will he come?
Enter Messenger.
He will; and has commanded all his men
To come ashore, and march through Malta streets,
That thou maist feast them in thy Citadell.
Then now are all things as my wish wud have 'em,
There wanteth nothing but the Governors pelfe,
And see he brings it: Now, Governor, the summe?
Enter Governour.
With free consent a hundred thousand pounds.
Pounds saist thou, Governor, wel since it is no more
I'le satisfie my selfe with that; nay, keepe it still,
For if I keepe not promise, trust not me.
And Governour, now partake my policy:
First,for his Army, they are sent before,
Enter'd the Monastery, and underneath
In severall 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 eares,
Whence none can possibly escape alive:
Now as for Calymath and his consorts,
Here have I made a dainty Gallery,
The floore whereof, this Cable being cut,
Doth fall asunder; so that it doth sinke
Into a deepe pit past recovery.
Here, hold that knife, and when thou seest he comes,
And with his Bashawes shall be blithely set,
A warning-peace shall be shot off from the Tower,
To give thee knowledge when to cut the cord,
And fire the house; say, will not this be brave?
Oh excellent! here, hold thee, Barabas,
I trust thy word, take what I promis'd thee.
No, Governor, I'le satisfie thee first,
Thou shalt not live in doubt of any thing.
Stand close, for here they come:
[Governor stands aloof.]
Why, is not this
A kingly kinde of trade to purchase Townes
By treachery, and sell 'em by deceit?
Now tell me, worldlings, underneath the sunne,
If greater falshood ever has bin done.
Enter Calymath and Bashawes.
Come, my Companion-Bashawes, see I pray
How busie Barabas is there above
To entertaine us in his Gallery;
Let us salute him. Save thee, Barabas.
Welcome great Calymath.
How the slave jeeres at him?
Will't please thee, mighy Selim-Calymath,
To ascend our homely stayres?
I, Barabas, come Bashawes, attend.
Stay, Calymath;
[Comes forward.]
For I will shew thee greater curtesie
Then Barabas would have affoorded thee.

1. Knight
Sound a charge there.

A charge, the cable cut, a Caldron discovered. [Barabas falls into it. Enter del Bosco and Knights.]
How now, what means this?
Helpe, helpe me, Christians, helpe.
See Calymath, this was devis'd for thee.
Treason, treason! Bashawes, flye.
No, Selim, doe not flye;
See his end first, and flye then if thou canst.
Oh helpe me, Selim, helpe me, Christians.
Governour, why stand you all so pittilesse?
Should I in pitty of thy plaints or thee,
Accursed Barabas,base Jew,relent?
No, thus I'le see thy treachery repaid,
But wish thou hadst behav'd thee otherwise.
You will not helpe me then?
No, villaine, no.
And villaines, know you cannot helpe me now.
Then Barabas breath 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 sonne;
I fram'd the challenge that did make them meet:
Know, Calymath, I aym'd thy overthrow,
And had I but escap'd this stratagem,
I would have brought confusion on you all,
Damn'd Christians, dogges, and Turkish Infidels;
But now begins the extremity of heat
To pinch me with intolerable pangs:
Dye life, flye soule, tongue curse thy fill and dye.
Tell me, you Christians, what doth this portend?
This traine he laid to have intrap'd thy life;
Now Selim note the unhallowed deeds of Jewes:
Thus he determin'd to have handled thee,
But I have rather chose to save thy life.
Was this the banquet he prepar'd for us?
Let's hence, lest further mischiefe be pretended.
Nay, Selim, stay, for since we have thee here,
We will not let thee part so suddenly:
Besides, if we should let thee goe, all's one,
For with thy Gallyes couldst thou not get hence,
Without fresh men to rigge and furnish them.
Tush, Governor, take thou no care for that,
My men are all aboord,
And doe attend my comming there by this.
Why, hardst thou not the trumpet sound a charge?
Yes, what of that?
Why, then the house was fir'd,
Blowne up, and all thy souldiers massacred.
Oh monstrous treason!
A Jewes curtesie:
For he that did by treason worke our fall,
By treason hath delivered thee to us:
Know therefore, till thy father hath made good
The ruines done to Malta and to us,
Thou canst not part: for Malta shall be freed,
Or Selim ne're returne to Ottoman.
Nay rather, Christians, let me goe to Turkey,
In person there to mediate your peace;
To keepe me here will nought advantage you.
Content thee, Calymath,here thou must stay,
And live in Malta prisoner; for come all the world
To rescue thee, so will we guard us now,
As sooner shall they drinke the Ocean dry,
Then conquer Malta, or endanger us.
So march away, and let due praise be given
Neither to Fate nor Fortune, but to Heaven.