The Jew of Malta, Christopher Marlowe [best classic books to read TXT] 📗

loss of time, And painful nights, have been appointed me.

SECOND JEW. Good Barabas, be patient.

BARABAS. Ay, I pray, leave me in my patience. You, that Were ne’er possess’d of wealth, are pleas’d with want; But give him liberty at least to mourn, That in a field, amidst his enemies, Doth see his soldiers slain, himself disarm’d, And knows no means of his recovery: Ay, let me sorrow for this sudden chance; ‘Tis in the trouble of my spirit I speak: Great injuries are not so soon forgot.

FIRST JEW. Come, let us leave him; in his ireful mood Our words will but increase his ecstasy.<41>

SECOND JEW. On, then: but, trust me, ‘tis a misery To see a man in such affliction.— Farewell, Barabas.

BARABAS. Ay, fare you well. [Exeunt three JEWS.]<42> See the simplicity of these base slaves, Who, for the villains have no wit themselves, Think me to be a senseless lump of clay, That will with every water wash to dirt! No, Barabas is born to better chance, And fram’d of finer mould than common men, That measure naught 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 ABIGAIL.

But whither wends my beauteous Abigail? O, what has made my lovely daughter sad? What, woman! moan not for a little loss; Thy father has enough in store for thee.

ABIGAIL. Nor for myself, but aged Barabas, Father, for thee lamenteth Abigail: But I will learn to leave these fruitless tears; And, urg’d thereto with my afflictions, With fierce exclaims run to the senate-house, And in the senate reprehend them all, And rent their hearts with tearing of my hair, Till they reduce<43> the wrongs done to my father.

BARABAS. No, Abigail; things past recovery Are hardly cur’d with exclamations: Be silent, daughter; sufferance breeds ease, And time may yield us an occasion, Which on the sudden cannot serve the turn. Besides, my girl, think me not all so fond<44> As negligently to forgo so much Without provision for thyself and me: Ten thousand portagues,<45> besides great pearls, Rich costly jewels, and stones infinite, Fearing the worst of this before it fell, I closely hid.

ABIGAIL. Where, father?

BARABAS. In my house, my girl.

ABIGAIL. Then shall they ne’er be seen of Barabas; For they have seiz’d upon thy house and wares.

BARABAS. But they will give me leave once more, I trow, To go into my house.

ABIGAIL. That may they not; For there I left the governor placing nuns, Displacing me; and of thy house they mean To make a nunnery, where none but their own sect<46> Must enter in; men generally barr’d.

BARABAS. My gold, my gold, and all my wealth is gone!— You partial heavens, have I deserv’d this plague? What, will you thus oppose me, luckless stars, To make me desperate in my poverty? And, knowing me impatient in distress, Think me so mad as I will hang myself, That I may vanish o’er the earth in air, And leave no memory that e’er I was? No, I will live; nor loathe I this my life: And, since you leave me in the ocean thus To sink or swim, and put me to my shifts, I’ll rouse my senses, and awake myself.— Daughter, I have it: thou perceiv’st the plight Wherein these Christians have oppressed me: Be rul’d by me, for in extremity We ought to make bar of no policy.

ABIGAIL. Father, whate’er it be, to injure them That have so manifestly wronged us, What will not Abigail attempt?

BARABAS. Why, so. Then thus: thou told’st me they have turn’d my house Into a nunnery, and some nuns are there?

ABIGAIL. I did.

BARABAS. Then, Abigail, there must my girl Entreat the abbess to be entertain’d.

ABIGAIL. How! as a nun?

BARABAS. Ay, daughter; for religion Hides many mischiefs from suspicion.

ABIGAIL. Ay, but, father, they will suspect me there.

BARABAS. Let ‘em suspect; but be thou so precise As they may think it done of holiness: Entreat ‘em fair, and give them friendly speech, And seem to them as if thy sins were great, Till thou hast gotten to be entertain’d.

ABIGAIL. Thus, father, shall I much dissemble.

BARABAS. Tush! As good dissemble that thou never mean’st, As first mean truth and then dissemble it: A counterfeit profession is better Than unseen hypocrisy.

ABIGAIL. Well, father, say I be entertain’d, What then shall follow?

BARABAS. This shall follow then. There have I hid, close underneath the plank That runs along the upper-chamber floor, The gold and jewels which I kept for thee:— But here they come: be cunning, Abigail.

ABIGAIL. Then, father, go with me.

BARABAS. No, Abigail, in this It is not necessary I be seen; For I will seem offended with thee for’t: Be close, my girl, for this must fetch my gold. [They retire.]

Enter FRIAR JACOMO,<47> FRIAR BARNARDINE, ABBESS, and a NUN.

FRIAR JACOMO. Sisters, We now are almost at the new-made nunnery.

ABBESS.<48> The better; for we love not to be seen: ‘Tis thirty winters long since some of us Did stray so far amongst the multitude.

FRIAR JACOMO. But, madam, this house And waters of this new-made nunnery Will much delight you.

ABBESS. It may be so.—But who comes here?

[ABIGAIL comes forward.]

ABIGAIL. Grave abbess, and you happy virgins’ guide, Pity the state of a distressed maid!

ABBESS. What art thou, daughter?

ABIGAIL. The hopeless daughter of a hapless Jew, The Jew of Malta, wretched Barabas, Sometimes<49> the owner of a goodly house, Which they have now turn’d to a nunnery.

ABBESS. Well, daughter, say, what is thy suit with us?

ABIGAIL. Fearing the afflictions which my father feels Proceed from sin or want of faith in us, I’d pass away my life in penitence, And be a novice in your nunnery, To make atonement for my labouring soul.

FRIAR JACOMO. No doubt, brother, but this proceedeth of the spirit.

FRIAR BARNARDINE. Ay, and of a moving spirit too, brother: but come, Let us entreat she may be entertain’d.

ABBESS. Well, daughter, we admit you for a nun.

ABIGAIL. First let me as a novice learn to frame My solitary life to your strait laws, And let me lodge where I was wont to lie: I do not doubt, by your divine precepts And mine own industry, but to profit much.

BARABAS. As much, I hope, as all I hid is worth. [Aside.]

ABBESS. Come, daughter, follow us.

BARABAS. [coming forward] Why, how now, Abigail! What mak’st thou ‘mongst these hateful Christians?

FRIAR JACOMO. Hinder her not, thou man of little faith, For she has mortified herself.

BARABAS. How! mortified!

FRIAR JACOMO. And is admitted to the sisterhood.

BARABAS. Child of perdition, and thy father’s shame! What wilt thou do among these hateful fiends? I charge thee on my blessing that thou leave These devils and their damned heresy!

ABIGAIL. Father, forgive me—<50>

BARABAS. Nay, back, Abigail, And think upon the jewels and the gold; The board is marked thus that covers it.— [Aside to ABIGAIL in a whisper.] Away, accursed, from thy father’s sight!

FRIAR JACOMO. Barabas, although thou art in misbelief, And wilt not see thine own afflictions, Yet let thy daughter be no longer blind.

BARABAS. Blind friar, I reck not thy persuasions,— The board is marked thus<51> that covers it— [Aside to ABIGAIL in a whisper.] For I had rather die than see her thus.— Wilt thou forsake me too in my distress, Seduced daughter?—Go, forget not.—<52> [Aside to her in a whisper.] Becomes it Jews to be so credulous?— To-morrow early I’ll be at the door.— [Aside to her in a whisper.] 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 to her in a whisper.] Out, out, thou wretch! [Exit, on one side, BARABAS. Exeunt, on the other side, FRIARS, ABBESS, NUN, and ABIGAIL: and, as they are going out,]

Enter MATHIAS.

MATHIAS. Who’s this? fair Abigail, the rich Jew’s daughter, Become a nun! her father’s sudden fall Has humbled her, and brought her down to this: Tut, she were fitter for a tale of love, Than to be tired out with orisons; And better would she far become a bed, Embraced in a friendly lover’s arms, Than rise at midnight to a solemn mass.

Enter LODOWICK.

LODOWICK. Why, how now, Don Mathias! in a dump?

MATHIAS. Believe me, noble Lodowick, I have seen The strangest sight, in my opinion, That ever I beheld.

LODOWICK. What was’t, I prithee?

MATHIAS. A fair young maid, scarce fourteen years of age, The sweetest flower in Cytherea’s field, Cropt from the pleasures of the fruitful earth, And strangely metamorphos’d [to a] nun.

LODOWICK. But say, what was she?

MATHIAS. Why, the rich Jew’s daughter.

LODOWICK. What, Barabas, whose goods were lately seiz’d? Is she so fair?

MATHIAS. And matchless beautiful, As, had you seen her, ‘twould have mov’d your heart, Though countermin’d with walls of brass, to love, Or, at the least, to pity.

LODOWICK. An if she be so fair as you report, ‘Twere time well spent to go and visit her: How say you? shall we?

MATHIAS. I must and will, sir; there’s no remedy.

LODOWICK. And so will I too, or it shall go hard. Farewell, Mathias.

MATHIAS. Farewell, Lodowick. [Exeunt severally.]

 

ACT II.

Enter BARABAS, with a light.<53>

BARABAS. Thus, like the sad-presaging raven, that tolls The sick man’s passport in her hollow beak,<54> And in the shadow of the silent night Doth shake contagion from her sable wings, Vex’d and tormented runs poor Barabas With fatal curses towards these Christians. The incertain pleasures of swift-footed time Have ta’en their flight, and left me in despair; And of my former riches rests no more But bare remembrance; like a soldier’s scar, That has no further comfort for his maim.— O Thou, that with a fiery pillar ledd’st The sons of Israel through the dismal shades, Light Abraham’s offspring; and direct the hand Of Abigail this night! or let the day Turn to eternal darkness after this!— No sleep can fasten on my watchful eyes, Nor quiet enter my distemper’d thoughts, Till I have answer of my Abigail.

Enter ABIGAIL above.

ABIGAIL. Now have I happily espied a time To search the plank my father did appoint; And here, behold, unseen, where I have found The gold, the pearls, and jewels, which he hid.

BARABAS. Now I remember those old women’s words, Who in my wealth would tell me winter’s tales, And speak of spirits and ghosts that glide by night About the place where treasure hath been hid: And now methinks that I am one of those; For, whilst I live, here lives my soul’s sole hope, And, when I die, here shall my spirit walk.

ABIGAIL. Now that my father’s fortune were so good As but to be about this happy place! ‘Tis not so happy: yet, when we parted last, He said he would attend me in the morn. Then, gentle Sleep, where’er his body rests, Give charge to Morpheus that he may dream A golden dream, and of<55> the sudden wake,<56> Come and receive the treasure I have found.

BARABAS. Bueno para todos mi ganado no era:<57> As good go on, as sit so sadly thus.— But stay: what star shines yonder in the east?<58> The loadstar of my life, if Abigail.— Who’s there?

ABIGAIL. Who’s that?

BARABAS. Peace, Abigail! ‘tis I.

ABIGAIL. Then, father, here receive thy happiness.

BARABAS. Hast thou’t?

ABIGAIL. Here.[throws down bags] Hast thou’t? There’s more, and more, and more.

BARABAS. O my girl, My gold, my fortune, my felicity, Strength to my soul, death to mine enemy; Welcome the first beginner of my bliss! O Abigail, Abigail, that I had thee here too! Then my desires were fully satisfied: