Ay, passing well.
So much the worse; I must have one that’s sickly, an’t be but for sparing victuals: ’tis not a stone of beef a day will maintain you in these chops; let me see one that’s somewhat leaner.
Here’s a leaner, how like you him?
Where wast thou born?
In Thrace; brought up in Arabia.
So much the better, thou art for my turn.
An hundred crowns? I’ll have him; there’s the coin. Gives money.
Then mark him, sir, and take him hence.
Ay, mark him, you were best, for this is he
That by my help shall do much villany. Aside.
My lord, farewell: Come, sirrah; you are mine.
As for the diamond, it shall be yours;
I pray, sir, be no stranger at my house,
All that I have shall be at your command.
What make the Jew and Lodowick so private?
I fear me ’tis about fair Abigail. Aside.
Yonder comes Don Mathias; let us stay;38
He loves my daughter, and she holds him dear:
But I have sworn to frustrate both their hopes,
And be revenged upon the governor.
This Moor is comeliest, is he not? speak, son.
No, this is the better, mother, view this well.
Seem not to know me here before your mother,
Lest she mistrust the match that is in hand:
When you have brought her home, come to my house;
Think of me as thy father; son, farewell.
But wherefore talked Don Lodowick with you?
Tush, man! we talked of diamonds, not of Abigail.
Tell me, Mathias, is not that the Jew?
As for the comment on the Maccabees,
I have it, sir, and ’tis at your command.
Yes, madam, and my talk with him was but
About the borrowing of a book or two.
Converse not with him, he is cast off from heaven.
Thou hast thy crowns, fellow; come, let’s away.
Sirrah, Jew, remember the book.
Marry, will I, sir.
Come, I have made a reasonable market; let’s away.
Now let me know thy name, and therewithal
Thy birth, condition, and profession.
Faith, sir, my birth is but mean; my name’s Ithamore, my profession what you please.
Hast thou no trade? then listen to my words,
And I will teach thee that shall stick by thee:
First, be thou void of these affections,
Compassion, love, vain hope, and heartless fear,
Be moved at nothing, see thou pity none,
But to thyself smile when the Christians moan.
O, brave, master, I worship your nose39 for this.
As for myself, I walk abroad o’ nights
And kill sick people groaning under walls:
Sometimes I go about and poison wells;
And now and then, to cherish Christian thieves,
I am content to lose some of my crowns,
That I may, walking in my gallery,
See ’em go pinioned along by my door.
Being young, I studied physic, and began
To practise first upon the Italian;
There I enriched the priests with burials,
And always kept the sexton’s arms in ure40
With digging graves and ringing dead men’s knells:
And, after that, was I an engineer,
And in the wars ’twixt France and Germany,
Under pretence of helping Charles the Fifth,
Slew friend and enemy with my stratagems.
Then after that was I an usurer,
And with extorting, cozening, forfeiting,
And tricks belonging unto brokery,
I filled the jails with bankrupts in a year,
And with young orphans planted hospitals,
And every moon made some or other mad,
And now and then one hang himself for grief,
Pinning upon his breast a long great scroll
How I with interest tormented him.
But mark how I am blest for plaguing them;
I have as much coin as will buy the town.
But tell me now, how hast thou spent thy time?
‘Faith, master,
In setting Christian villages on fire,
Chaining of eunuchs, binding galley-slaves.
One time I was an hostler in an inn,
And in the night-time secretly would I steal
To travellers’ chambers, and there cut their throats:
Once at Jerusalem, where the pilgrims kneeled,
I strewed powder on the marble stones,
And therewithal their knees would rankle so,
That I have laughed a-good41 to see the cripples
Go limping home to Christendom on stilts.
Why this is something: make account of me
As of thy fellow; we are villains both:
Both circumcised, we hate Christians both:
Be true and secret, thou shalt want no gold.
But stand aside, here comes Don Lodowick.
O Barabas, well met;
Where is the diamond you told me of?
I have it for you, sir; please you walk in with me:
What, ho, Abigail! open the door, I say.
In good time, father; here are letters come
From Ormus, and the post stays here within.
Give me the letters.—Daughter, do you hear,
Entertain Lodowick the governor’s son
With all the courtesy you can afford;
Provided that you keep your maidenhead.
Use him as if he were a Philistine;
Dissemble, swear, protest, vow love to him,
He is not of the seed of Abraham. Aside.
I am a little busy, sir, pray pardon me.
Abigail, bid him welcome for my sake.
For your sake and his own he’s welcome hither.
Daughter, a word more; kiss him; speak him fair,
And like a cunning Jew so cast about,
That ye be both made sure43 ere you come out. Aside.
O father! Don Mathias is my love.
I know it: yet, I say, make love to him;
Do, it is requisite it should be so—Aside.
Nay, on my life, it is my factor’s hand—
But go you in, I’ll think upon the account.
The account is made, for Lodowick he dies.
My factor sends me word a merchant’s fled
That owes me for a hundred tun of wine:
I weigh it thus much; Snapping his fingers. I have wealth enough.
For now by this has he kissed Abigail;
And she
