SCENE VI.

_Enter_[132] BELLAMIRA, ITHAMORE, _and_ PILIA-BORSA.

_Bell._. I'll pledge thee, love, and therefore drink it off.

_Itha._ Say'st thou me so? have at it; and do you hear? [_Whispers._ _Bell._ Go to, it shall be so.

_Itha._ Of that condition I will drink it up. Here's to thee.

_Bell._[133] Nay, I'll have all or none.

_Itha._ There, if thou lov'st me do not leave a drop.

_Bell._ Love thee! fill me three glasses.

_Itha._ Three and fifty dozen, I'll pledge thee.

_Pilia._ Knavely spoke, and like a knight at arms.

_Itha._ Hey, _Rivo[134] Castiliano_! a man's a man. 10

_Bell._ Now to the Jew.

_Itha._ Ha! to the Jew, and send me money he were best.

_Pilia._ What would'st thou do if he should send thee none?

_Itha._ Do nothing; but I know what I know; he's a murderer.

_Bell._ I had not thought he had been so brave a man.

_Itha._ You knew Mathias and the Governor's son; he and I killed 'em both, and yet never touched 'em.

_Pilia._ O, bravely done.

_Itha._ I carried the broth that poisoned the nuns; and he and I, snickle hand too fast,[135] strangled a friar. 20

_Bell._ You two alone!

_Itha._ We two, and 'twas never known, nor never shall be for me.

_Pilia._ This shall with me unto the Governor. [_Aside to_ BELLAMIRA. _Bell._ And fit it should: but first let's ha' more gold. [_Aside._ Come, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap.

_Itha._ Love me little, love me long; let music rumble Whilst I in thy incony[136] lap do tumble.

_Enter_ BARABAS, _with a lute, disguised._

_Bell._ A French musician; come, let's hear your skill?

_Bar._ Must tuna my lute for sound, _twang_, _twang_ first. 31

_Itha._ Wilt drink, Frenchman? here's to thee with a----Pox on this drunken hiccup!

_Bar._ Gramercy, monsieur.

_Bell._ Prythee, Pilia-Borsa, bid the fiddler give me the posy in his hat there.

_Pilia._ Sirrah, you must give my mistress your posy.

_Bar._ _A votre commandment, madame._

_Bell._ How sweet, my Ithamore, the flowers smell.

_Itha._ Like thy breath, sweetheart, no violet like 'em. 40

_Pilia._ Foh! methinks they stink like a hollyhock.

_Bar._ So, now I am revenged upon 'em all. The scent thereof was death; I poisoned it. [_Aside._

_Itha._ Play, fiddler, or I'll cut your cat's guts into chitterlings.

_Bar. Pardonnez moi_, be no in tune yet; so now, now all be in.

_Itha._ Give him a crown, and fill me out more wine.

_Pilia._ There's two crowns for thee, play.

_Bar._ How liberally the villain gives me mine own gold. [_Aside._ 51

_Pilia._ Methinks he fingers very well.

_Bar._ So did you when you stole my gold. [_Aside._

_Pilia._ How swift he runs.

_Bar._ You ran swifter when you threw my gold out of my window. [_Aside._

_Bell._ Musician, hast been in Malta long?

_Bar._ Two, three, four month, madam.

_Itha._ Dost not know a Jew, one Barabas?

_Bar._ Very mush; monsieur, you no be his man? 60

_Pilia._ His man?

_Itha._ I scorn the peasant; tell him so.

_Bar._ He knows it already. [_Aside._

_Itha._ 'Tis a strange thing of that Jew, he lives upon pickled grasshoppers and sauced mushrooms.

_Bar._ What a slave's this? the Governor feeds not as I do. [_Aside._

_Itha._ He never put on clean shirt since he was circumcised.

_Bar._ O rascal! I change myself twice a day. [_Aside._ 70

_Itha._ The hat he wears, Judas left under the elder[137] when he hanged himself.

_Bar._ 'Twas sent me for a present from the great Cham. [_Aside._

_Pilia._ A musty[138] slave he is; whither now, fiddler?

_Bar._ _Pardonnez moi, monsieur_, me[139] be no well. [_Exit._

_Pilia._ Farewell, fiddler: one letter more to the Jew.

_Bell._ Prythee, sweet love, one more, and write it sharp.

_Itha._ 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. 81

_Pilia._ Let me alone to urge it, now I know the meaning.

_Itha._ The meaning has a meaning; come let's in: To undo a Jew is charity, and not sin. [_Exeunt._

ACT THE FIFTH.