Chapter XIX: Act III: Scene I.523

_Enter_ [BELLAMIRA,] _a Courtesan_.

_Bell._ Since this town was besieg’d, my gain grows cold.
The time has been that, but for one bare night,
A hundred ducats have been freely given:
But now against my will I must be chaste;
And yet I know my beauty doth not fail. 5
From Venice merchants, and from Padua
Were wont to come rare-witted gentlemen,
Scholars I mean, learned and liberal;
And now, save Pilia-Borsa, comes there none,
And he is very seldom from my house; 10
And here he comes.

_Enter_ PILIA-BORSA.

_Pilia._ Hold thee, wench, there’s something for thee to spend.
[_Shews a bag of silver._]

_Bell._ ’T is silver. I disdain it.

_Pilia._ Ay, but the Jew has gold, 15
And I will have it, or it shall go hard.

_Court._ Tell me, how cam’st thou by this?

_Pilia._ Faith, walking the back-lanes, through the gardens, I
chanc’d to cast mine eye up to the Jew’s counting-house, where I
saw some (20) bags of money, and in the night I clamber’d up with
my hooks, and, as I was taking my choice, I heard a rumbling in the
house; so I took only this, and run my way. But here’s the Jew’s man. 25

_Enter_ ITHAMORE.

_Bell._ Hide the bag.

_Pilia._ Look not towards him, let’s away. Zoons, what a looking thou
keep’st; thou’lt betray ’s anon.

[_Exeunt_ BELLAMIRA _and_ PILIA-BORSA.]

_Itha._ O the sweetest face that ever I beheld! I know she is a
courtesan by her attire. Now (30) would I give a hundred of the Jew’s
crowns that I had such a concubine.

Well, I have deliver’d the challenge in such sort,
As meet they will, and fighting die; brave sport! _Exit._

[SCENE II.][524]

_Enter_ MATHIAS.

_Math._ This is the place; now Abigail shall see
Whether Mathias holds her dear or no.

_Enter_ LODOWICK.

_Math._ [_reading_].[525] What, dares the villain write in such base
terms?

_Lod._ I did it; and revenge it if thou dar’st. _They fight._

_Enter_ BARABAS, _above_ [_on a balcony_].

_Bar._ O! bravely fought; and yet they thrust not home. 5
Now, Lodovico! now, Mathias! So——[_Both fall._]
So now they have show’d themselves to be tall[526] fellows.

[_Cries_] _within_. Part ’em, part ’em.

_Bar._ Ay, part ’em now they are dead. Farewell, farewell. _Exit._

_Enter_ FERNEZE. KATHERINE [_and_ Attendants].

_Fern._ What sight is this!—my Lodowick slain? 10
These arms of mine shall be thy sepulchre.

_Kath._ Who is this? My son Mathias slain!

_Fern._ O Lodowick! had’st thou perish’d by the Turk,
Wretched Ferneze might have veng’d thy death.

_Kath._ Thy son slew mine, and I’ll revenge his death. 15

_Fern._ Look. Katherine, look!—thy son gave mine these wounds.

_Kath._ O leave to grieve me, I am griev’d enough.

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

_Kath._ Who made them enemies? 20

_Fern._ I know not, and that grieves me most of all.

_Kath._ My son lov’d thine.

_Fern._ And so did Lodowick him.

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

_Fern._ Nay, madam, stay; that weapon was my son’s, 25
And on that rather should Ferneze die.

_Kath._ Hold, let’s inquire the causers of their deaths,
That we may venge their blood upon their heads.

_Fern._ Then take them up, and let them be interr’d
Within one sacred monument of stone; 30
Upon which altar I will offer up
My daily sacrifice of sighs and tears.
And with my prayers pierce impartial heavens,
Till they [reveal] the causers of our smarts,
Which forc’d their hands divide united hearts.
Come, Katherina, our losses equal are; 35
Then of true grief let us take equal share.
_Exeunt_ [_with the bodies_].

[SCENE III.][527]

_Enter_ ITHAMORE.

_Itha._ Why, was there ever seen such villany,
So neatly plotted, and so well perform’d?
Both held in hand, and flatly both beguil’d?

_Enter_ ABIGAIL.

_Abig._ Why, how now, Ithamore, why laugh’st thou so?

_Itha._ O mistress, ha! ha! ha! 5

_Abig._ Why, what ail’st thou?

_Itha._ O my master!

_Abig._ Ha!

_Itha._ O mistress! I have the bravest, gravest, secret, subtle,
bottle-nos’d knave to my master, that ever gentleman had. 11

_Abig._ Say, knave, why rail’st upon my father thus?

_Itha._ O, my master has the bravest policy.

_Abig._ Wherein?

_Itha._ Why, know you not?

_Abig._ Why, no. 16

_Itha._ Know you not of Mathias’ and Don Lodowick’s disaster?

_Abig._ No, what was it?

_Itha._ Why, the devil invented a challenge, (20) my master writ it,
and I carried it, first to Lodowick, and imprimis to Mathias.
And then they met, [and,] as the story says,
In doleful wise they ended both their days.

_Abig._ And was my father furtherer of their deaths? 25

_Itha._ Am I Ithamore?

_Abig._ Yes.

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

_Abig._ Well, Ithamore, let me request thee this: 30
Go to the new-made nunnery, and inquire
For any of the friars of Saint Jacques,
And say, I pray them come and speak with me.

_Itha._ I pray, mistress, will you answer me but one question? 35

_Abig._ Well, sirrah, what is’t?

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

_Abig._ Go to, sirrah sauce, is this your question? Get ye gone. 40

_Itha._ I will, forsooth, mistress. _Exit._

_Abig._ Hard-hearted father, unkind Barabas!
Was this the pursuit[528] of thy policy!
To make me show them favour severally, 44
That by my favour they should both be slain?
Admit thou lov’dst not Lodowick for his sire,[529]
Yet Don Mathias ne’er offended thee:
But thou wert set upon extreme revenge,
Because the [sire][530] dispossess’d thee once,
And could’st not venge it, but upon his son, 50
Nor on his son, but by Mathias’ means;
Nor on Mathias, but by murdering me.
But I perceive there is no love on earth,
Pity in Jews, nor piety in Turks. 54
But here comes cursed Ithamore, with the friar.

_Enter_ ITHAMORE _and_ Friar [JACOMO].

_F. Jac. Virgo, salve._

_Itha._ When! duck you!

_Abig._ Welcome, grave friar; Ithamore, begone. _Exit_ ITHAMORE].
Know, holy sir, I am bold to solicit thee.

_F. Jac._ Wherein? 60

_Abig._ To get me be admitted for a nun.

_F. Jac._ Why, Abigail, it is not yet long since
That I did labour thy admission,
And then thou did’st not like that holy life.

_Abig._ Then were my thoughts so frail and unconfirm’d, 65
And I was chain’d to follies of the world:
But now experience, purchased with grief,
Has made me see the difference of things.
My sinful soul, alas, hath pac’d too long
The fatal labyrinth of misbelief, 70
Far from the Sun[531] that gives eternal life.

_F. Jac._ Who taught thee this?

_Abig._ The abbess of the house.
Whose zealous admonition I embrace:
O, therefore, Jacomo, let me be one,
Although unworthy, of that sisterhood. 75

_F. Jac._ Abigail, I will, but see thou change no more.
For that will be most heavy to thy soul.

_Abig._ That was my father’s fault.

_F. Jac._ Thy father’s! how?

_Abig._ Nay, you shall pardon me. [_Aside._] O Barabas,
Though thou deservest hardly at my hands, 80
Yet never shall these lips bewray[532] thy life.

_F. Jac._ Come, shall we go?

_Abig._ My duty waits on you.
_Exeunt._

[SCENE IV.][533]

_Enter_ BARABAS, _reading a letter_.

_Bar._ What, Abigail become a nun again!
False and unkind[534]; what, hast thou lost thy father?
And all unknown, and unconstrain’d of me,
Art thou again got to the nunnery?
Now here she writes, and wills me to repent. 5
Repentance! _Spurca!_ what pretendeth[535] this?
I fear she knows—’t is so—of my device
In Don Mathias’ and Lodovico’s deaths.
If so, ’t is time that it be seen into;
For she that varies from me in belief 10
Gives great presumption that she loves me not;
Or loving, doth dislike of something done.
But who comes here?
[_Enter_ ITHAMORE.]
O Ithamore, come near;
Come near, my love; come near, thy master’s life.
My trusty servant, nay, my second [self]:[536] 15
For I have now no hope but even in thee,
And on that hope my happiness is built.
When saw’st thou Abigail?

_Itha._ To-day.

_Bar._ With whom?

_Itha._ A friar.

_Bar._ A friar! false villain, he hath done the deed. 20

_Itha._ How, sir?

_Bar._ Why, made mine Abigail a nun.

_Itha._ That’s no lie, for she sent me for him.

_Bar._ O unhappy day!
False, credulous, inconstant Abigail!
But let ’em go: and, Ithamore, from hence 25
Ne’er shall she grieve me more with her disgrace;
Ne’er shall she live to inherit aught 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. 30

_Itha._ O master!

_Bar._ Ithamore, entreat not for her, I am mov’d,
And she is hateful to my soul and me:
And ’less[537] thou yield to this that I entreat,
I cannot think but that thou hat’st my life. 35

_Itha._ Who, I, master? Why, I’ll run to some rock,
And throw myself headlong into the sea;
Why, I’ll do anything for your sweet sake.

_Bar._ O trusty Ithamore, no servant, but my friend,
I here adopt thee for mine only heir, 40
All that I have is thine when I am dead,
And whilst I live use half; spend as myself.
Here take my keys,—I’ll give ’em thee anon.
Go buy thee garments; but thou shalt not want:
Only know this, that thus thou art to do: 45
But first go fetch me in the pot of rice
That for our supper stands upon the fire.

_Itha._ [_Aside._] I hold my head my master’s hungry.—I go, sir.
_Exit._

_Bar._ Thus every villain ambles after wealth,
Although he ne’er be richer than in hope. 50
But, hush ’t!

_Re-enter_ ITHAMORE _with the pot_.

_Itha._ Here ’t is, master.

_Bar._ Well said, Ithamore.
What, hast thou brought the ladle with thee too?

_Itha._ Yes, sir, the proverb says he that eats with the devil had
need of a long spoon. I have brought you a ladle. 55

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

_Itha._ Why, master, will you poison her (60) with a mess of rice
porridge? That will preserve life, make her round and plump, and
batten[538] more than you are aware.

_Bar._ Ay, but, Ithamore, seest thou this?
It is a precious powder that I bought 65
Of an Italian in Ancona once,
Whose operation is to bind, infect,
And poison deeply, yet not appear
In forty hours after it is ta’en.

_Itha._ How, master? 70

_Bar._ Thus, Ithamore.
This even they use in Malta here,—’t is called
Saint Jacques’ Even,—and then I say they use
To send their alms unto the nunneries.
Among the rest bear this, and set it there; 75
There’s a dark entry where they take it in,
Where they must neither see the messenger,
Nor make inquiry who hath sent it them.

_Itha._ How so?

_Bar._ Belike there is some ceremony in ’t. 80
There, Ithamore, must thou go place this pot!
Stay, let me spice it first.

_Itha._ Pray do, and let me help you, master. Pray let me taste first.

_Bar._ Prythee do [ITHAMORE _tastes_]. What say’st thou now? 85

_Itha._ Troth, master, I’m loth such a pot of pottage should be spoil’d.

_Bar._ Peace, Ithamore, ’t is better so than spar’d.
Assure thyself thou shalt have broth by the eye,[539]
My purse, my coffer, and myself is thine. 90

_Itha._ Well, master, I go.

_Bar._ Stay, first let me stir it, Ithamore.
As fatal be it to her as the draught
Of which great Alexander drunk and died:
And with her let it work like Borgia’s wine, 95
Whereof his sire, the Pope, was poisoned.
In few,[540] the blood of Hydra, Lerna’s bane,
The juice of hebon,[541] and Cocytus’ breath,
And all the poisons of the Stygian pool
Break from the fiery kingdom; and in this 100
Vomit your venom and invenom her
That like a fiend hath left her father thus.

_Itha._ [_Aside._] What a blessing has he given ’t! Was ever pot of
rice porridge so sauc’d!—What shall I do with it? 105

_Bar._ O, my sweet Ithamore, go set it down,
And come again so soon as thou hast done,
For I have other business for thee.

_Itha._ Here ’s a drench to poison a whole stable of Flanders mares.
I’ll carry ’t to the nuns (110) with a powder.

_Bar._ And the horse pestilence to boot; away!

_Itha._ I am gone.
Pay me my wages, for my work is done. _Exit._

_Bar._ I’ll pay thee with a vengeance, Ithamore. _Exit._ 115

[SCENE V.][542]

_Enter_ FERNEZE, DEL BOSCO, Knights, _and_ Basso.

_Fern._ Welcome, great basso; how fares Calymath?
What wind drives you thus into Malta-road?

_Bas._ The wind that bloweth all the world besides,—
Desire of gold.

_Fern._ Desire of gold, great sir?
That’s to be gotten in the Western Ind: 5
In Malta are no golden minerals.

_Bas._ To you of Malta thus saith Calymath:
The time you took for respite is at hand,
For the performance of your promise pass’d,
And for the tribute-money I am sent. 10

_Fern._ Basso, in brief, shalt have no tribute here,
Nor shall the heathens live upon our spoil.
First will we raze the city walls ourselves,
Lay waste the island, hew the temples down,
And, shipping off our goods to Sicily, 15
Open an entrance for the wasteful sea,
Whose billows beating the resistless banks,
Shall overflow it with their refluence.

_Bas._ Well, Governor, since thou hast broke the league
By flat denial of the promis’d tribute, 20
Talk not of razing down your city walls.
You shall not need trouble yourselves so far,
For Selim Calymath shall come himself,
And with brass bullets batter down your towers,
And turn proud Malta to a wilderness 25
For these intolerable wrongs of yours;
And so farewell.

_Fern._ Farewell. [_Exit_ Basso.]
And now, you men of Malta, look about,
And let’s provide to welcome Calymath. 30
Close your portcullis, charge your basilisks,[543]
And as you profitably take up arms,
So now courageously encounter them;
For by this answer, broken is the league,
And naught is to be look’d for now but wars, 35
And naught to us more welcome is than wars.
_Exeunt._

[SCENE VI.][544]

_Enter_ Friar [JACOMO] _and_ Friar [BARNARDINE].

_F._ [_Jac._] O, brother, brother, all the nuns are sick,
And physic will not help them; they must die.

_F._ [_Barn._] The abbess sent for me to be confess’d:
O, what a sad confession will there be!

_F. Jac._ And so did fair Maria send for me. 5
I’ll to her lodging; hereabouts she lies. _Exit._

_Enter_ ABIGAIL.

_F. Barn._ What, all dead, save only Abigail?

_Abig._ And I shall die too, for I feel death coming.
Where is the friar that convers’d with me? 9

_F. Barn._ O, he is gone to see the other nuns.

_Abig._ I sent for him, but seeing you are come,
Be you my ghostly father: and first know,
That in this house I liv’d religiously,
Chaste, and devout, much sorrowing for my sins;
But ere I came—— 15

_F. Barn._ What then?

_Abig._ I did offend high Heaven so grievously,
As I am almost desperate for my sins;
And one offence torments me more than all.
You knew Mathias and Don Lodowick? 20

_F. Barn._ Yes, what of them?

_Abig._ My father did contract me to ’em both:
First to Don Lodowick; him I never lov’d;
Mathias was the man that I held dear,
And for his sake did I become a nun. 25

_F. Barn._ So, say how was their end?

_Abig._ Both jealous of my love, envied[545] each other,
And by my father’s practice,[546] which is there
Set down at large, the gallants were both slain.
[_Gives a written paper._]

_F. Barn._ O monstrous villainy! 30

_Abig._ To work my peace, this I confess to thee;
Reveal it not, for then my father dies.

_F. Barn._ Know that confession must not be reveal’d,
The canon law forbids it, and the priest
That makes it known, being degraded first, 35
Shall be condemn’d, and then sent to the fire.

_Abig._ So I have heard; pray, therefore keep it close.[547]
Death seizeth on my heart: ah, gentle friar,
Convert my father that he may be sav’d,
And witness that I die a Christian. [_Dies._] 40

_F. Barn._ Ay, and a virgin too; that grieves me most.
But I must to the Jew and exclaim on him,
And make him stand in fear of me.

_Re-enter_ Friar [JACOMO].

_F. Jac._ O brother, all the nuns are dead, let’s bury them.

_F. Barn._ First help to bury this, then go with me 45
And help me to exclaim against the Jew.

_F. Jac._ Why, what has he done?

_F. Barn._ A thing that makes me tremble to unfold.

_F. Jac._ What, has he crucified a child?

_F. Barn._ No, but a worse thing, ’t was told me in shrift, 50
Thou know’st ’tis death an if it be reveal’d.
Come, let’s away. _Exeunt._