The Jew of Malta by Christopher Marlowe (read along books .txt) 📕

a letter? Pilia-Borza

I did, sir, and from this gentlewoman, who, as myself, and the rest of the family, stand or fall at your service.

Bellamira

Though woman’s modesty should hale me back, I can withhold no longer: welcome, sweet love.

Ithamore

Now am I clean, or rather foully out of the way. Aside.

Bellamira

Whither so soon?

Ithamore

I’ll go steal some money from my master to make me handsome Aside.⁠—Pray, pardon me; I must go see a ship discharged.

Bellamira

Canst thou be so unkind to leave me thus?

Pilia-Borza

An ye did but know how she loves you, sir!

Ithamore

Nay, I care not how much she loves me⁠—Sweet Bellamira, would I had my master’s wealth for thy sake!

Pilia-Borza

And you can have it, sir, an if you please.

Ithamore

If ’twere above ground, I could and would have it; but he hides and buries it up, as partridges do their eggs, under the earth.

Pilia-Borza

And is’t not possible to find it out?

Ithamore

By no means possible.

Bellamira

What shall we do with this base villain then? Aside to Pilia-Borza.

Pilia-Borza

Let me alone; do but you speak him fair.⁠—Aside to her.
But sir know some secrets of the Jew,
Which, if they were revealed, would do him harm.

Ithamore

Ay, and such as⁠—Go to, no more! I’ll make him send me half he has, and glad he ’scapes so too: I’ll write unto him; we’ll have money straight.

Pilia-Borza

Send for a hundred crowns at least.

Ithamore

Ten hundred thousand crowns.⁠—Writing. “Master Barabas.”

Pilia-Borza

Write not so submissively, but threatening him.

Ithamore

Writing. “Sirrah Barabas, send me a hundred crowns.”

Pilia-Borza

Put in two hundred at least.

Ithamore

Writing. “I charge thee send me three hundred by this bearer, and this shall be your warrant: if you do not⁠—no more, but so.”

Pilia-Borza

Tell him you will confess.

Ithamore

Writing. “Otherwise I’ll confess all.”⁠—Vanish, and return in a twinkle.

Pilia-Borza

Let me alone; I’ll use him in his kind.

Exit Pilia-Borza with the letter. Ithamore

Hang him, Jew!

Bellamira

Now, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap.⁠—
Where are my maids? provide a running78 banquet;
Send to the merchant, bid him bring me silks;
Shall Ithamore, my love, go in such rags?

Ithamore

And bid the jeweller come hither too.

Bellamira

I have no husband, sweet; I’ll marry thee.

Ithamore

Content: but we will leave this paltry land,
And sail from hence to Greece, to lovely Greece.
I’ll be thy Jason, thou my golden fleece;
Where painted carpets o’er the meads are hurled,
And Bacchus’ vineyards overspread the world;
Where woods and forests go in goodly green,
I’ll be Adonis, thou shalt be Love’s Queen.
The meads, the orchards, and the primrose-lanes,
Instead of sedge and reed, bear sugar-canes:
Thou in those groves, by Dis above,
Shalt live with me, and be my love.

Bellamira

Whither will I not go with gentle Ithamore?

Re-enter Pilia-Borza. Ithamore

How now! hast thou the gold?

Pilia-Borza

Yes.

Ithamore

But came it freely? did the cow give down her milk freely?

Pilia-Borza

At reading of the letter, he stared and stamped and turned aside. I took him by the beard, and looked upon him thus; told him he were best to send it; then he hugged and embraced me.

Ithamore

Rather for fear than love.

Pilia-Borza

Then, like a Jew, he laughed and jeered, and told me he loved me for your sake, and said what a faithful servant you had been.

Ithamore

The more villain he to keep me thus; here’s goodly ’parel, is there not?

Pilia-Borza

To conclude, he gave me ten crowns. Gives the money to Ithamore.

Ithamore

But ten? I’ll not leave him worth a grey groat. Give me a ream79 of paper: we’ll have a kingdom of gold for’t.

Pilia-Borza

Write for five hundred crowns.

Ithamore

Writing. “Sirrah Jew, as you love your life, send me five hundred crowns, and give the bearer a hundred.⁠—” Tell him I must have’t.

Pilia-Borza

I warrant, your worship shall have’t.

Ithamore

And, if he ask why I demand so much, tell him I scorn to write a line under a hundred crowns.

Pilia-Borza

You’d make a rich poet, sir. I am gone.

Exit. Ithamore

Take thou the money; spend it for my sake.

Bellamira

’Tis not thy money, but thyself I weigh;
Thus Bellamira esteems of gold. Throws it aside.
But thus of thee. Kisses him.

Ithamore

That kiss again! she runs division80 of my lips.
What an eye she casts on me! it twinkles like a star.

Bellamira

Come, my dear love, let’s in and sleep together.

Ithamore

O, that ten thousand nights were put in one, that we might sleep seven years together afore we wake!

Bellamira

Come, amorous wag, first banquet, and then sleep.

Exeunt. Scene V Enter Barabas, reading a letter.81 Barabas

“Barabas, send me three hundred crowns.⁠—”
Plain Barabas! O, that wicked courtesan!
He was not wont to call me Barabas.
“Or else i will confess:” ay, there it goes:
But, if I get him, coupe de gorge for that.
He sent a shaggy tottered,82 staring slave,
That when he speaks draws out his grisly beard,
And winds it twice or thrice about his ear;
Whose face has been a grindstone for men’s swords;
His hands are hacked, some fingers cut quite off;
Who, when he speaks, grunts like a hog, and looks
Like one that is employed in catzerie83
And cross-biting,84⁠—such a rogue
As is the husband to a hundred whores:
And I by him must send three hundred crowns!
Well, my hope is, he will not stay there still;
And, when he comes: O, that he were but here!

Enter Pilia-Borza. Pilia-Borza

Jew, I must have more gold.

Barabas

Why, want’st thou any of thy tale?85

Pilia-Borza

No; but three hundred will not serve his turn.

Barabas

Not serve his turn, sir!

Pilia-Borza

No, sir; and therefore, I must have five hundred more.

Barabas

I’ll rather⁠—

Pilia-Borza

O good words, sir, and send it you were best! see, there’s his letter. Gives letter.

Barabas

Might he not as well come as send? pray bid him come and fetch it; what he writes for you,