# The Jew of Malta/Act 2

Actus Secundus
Enter Barabas with a light.
Bar. 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.
Abig. 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.
Bar. 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.
Abig. 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.
Bar. Birn para todos, my ga nada no er: 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?
Abig. Who's that?
Bar. Peace, Abigal, 'tis I.
Abig. Then father here receive thy happinesse.
Bar. Hast thou't? Throwes downe bags,
Abig. Here, Hast thou't? There's more, and more, and more.
Bar. 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 Aigal, Abigal, that I had thee here too, Then my desires were fully satisfied, But I will practise thy enlargement thence: Oh girle, oh gold, oh beauty, oh my blisse! hugs his bags
Abig. Father, it draweth towards midnight now, And 'bout this time the Nuns begin to wake; To shun suspition, therefore, let us part.
Bar. Farewell my Joy, and by my fingers take A kisse from him that sends it from his soule. Now Phœbus 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. Hermoso Piarer, de les Denirch. Exeunt.
Enter Governor, Martin del Bosco, the knights.
Gov. 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?
Bosc. 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 Catholic King.
1 Kni. 'Tis true, my lord, therefore intreat him well.
Bosc. Our fraught is Grecians, Turks, and Africk Moores. For late upon the coast of Corsica, Because we vail'd not to the Spanish Fleet, Their creeping Gallyes had us in the chase: But suddenly the wind began to rise, And then we left, and tooke, 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.
Gov. 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 Kni. 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.
Bosc. Will Knights of Malta be in league with Turkes, And buy it basely too for sums of gold? My lord, remember that, to Europe's shame, The Christian Isle of Rhodes, from whence you came, Was lately lost, and you were stated4 here To be at deadly enmity with Turkes.
Gov. Captaine we know it, but our force is small.
Bosc. What is the summe that Calymath requires?
Gov. A hundred thousand Crownes.
Bosc. 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.
Gov. On this condition shall thy Turkes be sold. Goe Officers and set them straight in shew. Bosco, thou shalt be Malta's Generall; We and our warlike Knights will follow thee Against these barbarous mis-beleeving Turkes.
Bosc. 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.
Gov. So will we fight it out; come, let's away: Proud-daring Calymath, instead of gold, Wee'll send the bullets wrapt in smoake and fire: Claime tribute where thou wilt, we are resolv'd, Honor is bought with bloud and not with gold. Exeunt.
Enter Officers with slaves.
1 Off. This is the Market-place, here let 'em stand: Feare not their sale, for they'll be quickly bought.
2 Off. Every ones price is written on his backe, And so much must they yeeld or not be sold.
Enter Bar.
1 Off. Here comes the Jew, had not his goods bin seiz'd, He'de give us present mony for them all.
Enter Barabas.
Bar, 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 aud 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.
Lod. 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.
Bar. Now will I shew my selfe to have more of the Serpent Then the Dove; that is, more knave than foole.
Lod. Yond walks the Jew, now for faire Abigall.
Bar. I, I, no doubt but shee's at your command.
Lod. Barabas, thou know'st I am the Governors sonne.
Bar. 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.
Lod. Whither walk'st thou Barabas?
Bar. 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 doth belong.
Lod. Well, Barabas, canst helpe me to a Diamond?
Bar. 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 wood. aside. I ha the poyson of the City for him, and the White leprosie.
Lod. What sparkle does it give without a foile?
Bar. 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.
Lod. Is it square or pointed, pray let me know.
Bar. Pointed it is, good Sir,———but not for you.aside.
Lod. I like it much the better. Brr. So doe I too.
Lod. How showes it by night?
Bar. Out shines Cinthia's rayes: Yeu'le like it better farre a nights than dayes. aside.
Lod. And what's the price?
Bar. 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. aside.
Lod. No, Barabas, I will deserve it first.
Bar. 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 doores, And made my house a place for Nuns most chast.
Lod. No doubt your soule shall reape the fruit of it.
Bar. 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: aside. And seeing they are not idle, but still doing, 'Tis likely they in time may reape some fruit, I meane in fulnesse of perfection.
Lod. Good Barabas glance not at our holy Nuns.
Bar. 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, aside. 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,aside. But now I must be gone to buy a slave.
Lod. And, Barabas, I'le beare thee company.
Bar. Come then, here's the marketplace; whats the price Of this slave, 200 Crowns? Do the Turke weigh so much?
Off. Sir, that's his price.
Bar. 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 300 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.
Lod. Ratest thou this Moore but at 200 plats?
1 Off. No more, my Lord.
Bar. Why should this Turke be dearer then that Moore?
Off. Because he is young and has more qualities.
Bar. What, hast the Philosophers stone? and thou hast, Breake my head with it, I'le forgive thee.
Itha. No Sir, I can cut and shave.
Bar. Let me see, sirra, are you not an old shaver?
Ith. Alas, Sir, I am a very youth.
Bar. A youth? I'le buy you, and marry you to Lady vanity If you doe well.
Ith. I will serve you, Sir.
Bar. Some wicked trick or other. It may be under colour Of shaving, thou'lt cut my throat for my goods. Tell me, hast thou thy health well?
Ith. I, passing well.
Bar. 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 maintaine you in these chops; let me see one That's some what leaner.
1 Off. Here's a leaner, how like you him?
Bar. Where was thou borne?
'Itha.' In Trace; brought up in Arabia.
Bar. So much the better, thou art for my turne, An hundred Crownes; I'le have him; there's the coyne.
1 Off. Then marke him, Sir, and take him hence.
Bar. 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.
Math. What makes the Jew and Lodewicke so private? I feare me 'tis about faire Abigall.
Bar. 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.
Mater. This Moore is comeliest, is he not? speake son.
Math. No, this is the better, mother, view this well.
Bar. 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.
Math. But wherefore talk'd Don Lodowick with you?
Bar. Tush man, we talk'd of Diamonds, not of Abigal.
Mater. Tell me, Mathias, is not that the Jew?
Bar. As for the Comment on the Machabees I have it, Sir, and 'tis at your command.
Math. Yes, Madam, and my talke with him was About the borrowing of a booke or two.
Mater. Converse not with him, he is cast off from heaven. Thou hast thy Crownes, fellow, come let's away. exeunt.
Math. Sirra, Jew, remember the booke.
Bar. Marry will I, Sir.
Off. Come, I have made a reasonable market, let's away.
Bar. Now let me know thy name, and therewithall Thy birth, condition, and profession.
Ithi. Faith, Sir, my birth is but meane, my name's Ithimer,
My profession what you please.
Bar. Hast thou no Trade? then listen to my words, And I will teach that shall sticke by thee: First be thou voyd of these affections, Compassion, love, vaine hope, and heartlesse feare, Be mov'd at nothing, see thou pityy none, But to thy selfe smile when the Christians moane.
Ithi. Oh brave, master, I worship your nose for this.
Bar. 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 doore. Being young I studied Physicke, and began To practise first upon the Italian; There I enric'd the Priests with burials, And alwayes kept the Sextons' armes in ure With digging graves and ringing dead mens knells: And after that was I an Engineere, And in the wars 'twixt France and Germanie, Under pretence of helping Charles the fifth, Slew friend and enemy with my stratagems. Then after that was I an Usurer, And with extorting, cozening, forfeiting, And tricks belonging unto Brokery, I fill'd the 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?
Ithi. 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.
Bar. 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.
Lod. Oh Barabas well met; where is the Diamond You told me of?
Bar. I have it for you, Sir; please you walke in with me: What, ho, Abigall; open the doore I say.
Enter Abigall.
Abig. In good time, father, here are letters come From Ormus, and the Post stayes here within.
Bar. 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. aside. 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.
Abig. For your sake and his own he's welcome hither.
Bar. 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.
Abig. Oh father, Don Mathias is my love.
Bar. 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: The account is made, for Lodowicke 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. Whither goes Don Mathias? stay a while.
Enter Mathias.
Math. Wither but to my faire love Abigall?
Bar. Thou know'st, and heaven can witnesse it is true, That I intend my daughter shall be thine.
Math. I, Barabas, or else thou wrong'st me much:
Bar. 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.
Math. Does she receive them?
Bar. 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:
Math. Oh treacherous Lodowicke!
Bar. Even now as I came home, he slipt me in, And I am sure he is with Abigall. Math. I'le rouze him thence.
Bar. 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.
Math. What hand in hand, I cannot suffer this.
Bar. Mathias, as thou lov'st me, not a word.
Math. Well, let it passe, another time shall serve.Exit.
Lod. Barabas, is not that the widowes sonne?
Bar. I, and take heed, for he hath sworne your death.
Lod. My death? what is the base borne peasant mad?
Bar. 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.
Lod. Why loves she Don Mathias?
Bar. Doth she not with her smiling answer you?
Abig. He has my heart, I smile against my will.
Lod. Barabas, thou know'st I have lov'd thy daughter long.
Bar. And so has she done you, even from a child.
Lod. And now I can no longer hold my minde.
Bar. Nor I the affection that I beare to you.
Lod. This is thy Diamond, tell me, shall I have it?
Bar. Win it, and weare it, it is yet unsoyl'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.
Lod. 'Tis not thy wealth, but her that I esteeme, Yet crave I thy consent.
Bar. And mine you have, yet let me talke to her; This off-spring 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, aside. This gentle Magot Lodowicke I meane, Must be deluded: let him have thy hand, But keepe thy heart till Don Mathias comes.
Abig. What shall I be betroth'd to Lodowicke?
Bar. 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.
Lod. Then gentle Abigal plight thy faith to me.
Abig. I cannot chuse, seeing my father bids: Nothing but death shall part my love and me.
Lod. Now have I that for which my soule hath long'd.
Bar. So have not I, but yet I hope I shall. aside.
Abig. Oh wretched Abigal, what hast thee done?
Lod. Why on the sudden is your colour chang'd?
Abig. I know not, but farewell, I must be gone.
Bar. Stay her, but let her not speake one word more.
Lod. Mute a the sudden; here's a sudden change.
Bar. 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.
Lod. Oh, is't the custome, then I am resolv'd: But rathe 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.
Bar. Be quiet Lodowicke, it is enough That I have made thee sure to Abigal.
Lod. Well, let him goe. Exit.
Bar. 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.
Math. Suffer me, Barabas, but to follow him.
Bar. 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.
Math. For this I'le have his heart.
Bar. Doe so; loe here I giue thee Abigall.
Math. What greater gift can poore Mathias have? Shall Lodowicke rob me of so faire a love? My life is not so deare as Abigall.
Bar. My heart misgives me, that to crosse your love, Hee's with your mother, therefore after him.
Math. What, is he gone unto my mother?
Bar. Nay, if you will, stay till she comes her selfe.
Math. I cannot stay; for if my mother come, Shee'll dye with griefe. Exit.
Abig. I cannot take my leave of him for teares: Father, why have you thus incenst them both?
Bar. What's that to thee?
Abig. I'le make 'em friends againe.
Bar. You'll make 'em friends? are there not Jewes Enow in Malta. But thou must dote upon a Christian?
Abig. I will have Don Mathias, he is my love.
Bar. Yes, you shall have him: Goe put her in.
Ith. I, I'le put her in.
Bar. Now tell me, Ithimore, how lik'st thou this?
Ith. Faith Master, I thinke by this You purchase both their lives; is it not so?
Bar. True; and it shall be cunningly perform'd.
Ith. Oh, master, that I might have a hand in this.
Bar. 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.
Ith. 'Tis poyson'd, is it not?
Bar. No, no, and yet it might be done that way: It is a challenge feign'd from Lodowicke.
Ith. Feare not, I'le so set his heart a fire, that he
Shall verily thinke it comes from him.
Bar. I cannot choose but like thy readinesse: Yet be not rash, but doe it cunningly.
Ith. As I behave my selfe in this, imploy me hereafter.
Bar. Away then. Exit. So, now will I goe in to Lodowicke, And, like a cunning spirit feigne some lye, Till I have set 'em both at enmitie. Exit.
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