Scene
VI
Enter Bellamira, Ithamore, and Pilia-Borza.
Bellamira
I’ll pledge thee, love, and therefore drink it off.
Ithamore
Say’st thou me so? have at it; and do you hear? Whispers.
Bellamira
Go to, it shall be so.
Ithamore
Of that condition I will drink it up.
Here’s to thee.
Bellamira
Nay, I’ll have all or none.
Ithamore
There, if thou lov’st me, do not leave a drop.
Bellamira
Love thee! fill me three glasses.
Ithamore
Three and fifty dozen, I’ll pledge thee.
Pilia-Borza
Knavely spoke, and like a knight-at-arms.
Ithamore
Hey, Rivo Castiliano! a man’s a man.
Bellamira
Now to the Jew.
Ithamore
Ha! to the Jew; and send me money he were best.
Pilia-Borza
What would’st thou do, if he should send thee none?
Ithamore
Do nothing; but I know what I know; he’s a murderer.
Bellamira
I had not thought he had been so brave a man.
Ithamore
You knew Mathias and the governor’s son; he and I killed ’em both, and yet never touched ’em.
Pilia-Borza
O, bravely done.
Ithamore
I carried the broth that poisoned the nuns; and he and I, snickle hand too fast, strangled a friar.
Bellamira
You two alone?
Ithamore
We two; and ’twas never known, nor never shall be for me.
Pilia-Borza
This shall with me unto the governor. Aside to Bellamira.
Bellamira
And fit it should: but first let’s ha’ more gold. Aside to Pilia-Borza.
Come, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap.
Ithamore
Love me little, love me long: let music rumble,
Whilst I in thy incony lap do tumble.
Enter Barabas, disguised as a French musician, with a lute, and a nosegay in his hat.
Bellamira
A French musician! come, let’s hear your skill.
Barabas
Must tuna my lute for sound, twang, twang, first.
Ithamore
Wilt drink, Frenchman? here’s to thee with a—Pox on this drunken hiccup!
Barabas
Gramercy, monsieur.
Bellamira
Prithee, Pilia-Borza, bid the fiddler give me the posy in his hat there.
Pilia-Borza
Sirrah, you must give my mistress your posy.
Barabas
A votre commandement, madame.
Giving nosegay.
Bellamira
How sweet, my Ithamore, the flowers smell!
Ithamore
Like thy breath, sweetheart; no violet like ’em.
Pilia-Borza
Foh! methinks they stink like a hollyhock.
Barabas
So, now I am revenged upon ’em all:
The scent thereof was death; I poisoned it. Aside.
Ithamore
Play, fiddler, or I’ll cut your cat’s guts into chitterlings.
Barabas
Pardonnez moi, be no in tune yet: so, now, now all be in.
Ithamore
Give him a crown, and fill me out more wine.
Pilia-Borza
There’s two crowns for thee; play. Giving money.
Barabas
How liberally the villain gives me mine own gold! Aside, Barabas then plays.
Pilia-Borza
Methinks he fingers very well.
Barabas
So did you when you stole my gold. Aside.
Pilia-Borza
How swift he runs!
Barabas
You run swifter when you threw my gold out of my window. Aside.
Bellamira
Musician, hast been in Malta long?
Barabas
Two, three, four month, madam.
Ithamore
Dost not know a Jew, one Barabas?
Barabas
Very mush: monsieur, you no be his man?
Pilia-Borza
His man?
Ithamore
I scorn the peasant; tell him so.
Barabas
He knows it already. Aside.
Ithamore
’Tis a strange thing of that Jew, he lives upon pickled grasshoppers and sauced mushrooms.
Barabas
What a slave’s this? the governor feeds not as I do. Aside.
Ithamore
He never put on clean shirt since he was circumcised.
Barabas
O rascal! I change myself twice a day. Aside.
Ithamore
The hat he wears, Judas left under the elder when he hanged himself.
Barabas
’Twas sent me for a present from the Great Cham. Aside.
Pilia-Borza
A musty slave he is.—Whither now, fiddler?
Barabas
Pardonnez moi, monsieur, me be no well.
Pilia-Borza
Farewell, fiddler!
Exit Barabas.
One letter more to the Jew.
Bellamira
Prithee, sweet love, one more, and write it sharp.
Ithamore
No, I’ll send by word of mouth now—Bid him deliver thee a thousand crowns, by the same token, that the nuns loved rice, that Friar Barnardine slept in his own clothes; any of ’em will do it.
Pilia-Borza
Let me alone to urge it, now I know the meaning.
Ithamore
The meaning has a meaning. Come let’s in
To undo a Jew is charity, and not sin.
Exeunt.