SCENE III.

_Enter_ ITHAMORE.[86]

_Itha._ Why, was there ever seen such villainy, So neatly plotted, and so well performed? Both held in hand,[87] and flatly both beguiled?

_Enter_ ABIGAIL.

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

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

_Abig._ Why, what ail'st thou?

_Itha._ O my master!

_Abig._ Ha!

_Itha._ O mistress! I have the bravest, gravest, secret, subtle, bottle-nosed 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.

_Itha._ Know you not of Mathia[s'] and Don Lodowick['s] disaster?

_Abig._ No, what was it?

_Itha._ Why, the devil invented a challenge, my master writ it, and I carried it, first to Lodowick, and _imprimis_ to Mathia[s]. 22 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?

_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 St. Jaques,[88] And say, I pray them come and speak with me.

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

_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 of thy policy! To make me show them favour severally, That by my favour they should both be slain? Admit thou lov'dst not Lodowick for his sire,[89] Yet Don Mathias ne'er offended thee: But thou wert set upon extreme revenge, Because the Prior[90] dispossessed 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, or piety in Turks. But here comes cursed Ithamore, with the friar.

_Enter_ ITHAMORE _and_ FRIAR JACOMO.

_F. Jac._ _Virgo, salve._

_Itha._ When! duck you![91]

_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 unconfirmed, And I was chained to follies of the world: But now experience, purchasèd with grief, Has made me see the difference of things. My sinful soul, alas, hath paced too long The fatal labyrinth of misbelief, 70 Far from the sun 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.

_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? 80

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

_F. Jac._ Come, shall we go?

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