The Jew of Malta Christopher Marlowe (top non fiction books of all time txt) 📖
- Author: Christopher Marlowe
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The juice of hebon,54 and Cocytus’ breath,
And all the poisons of the Stygian pool
Break from the fiery kingdom; and in this
Vomit your venom and invenom her
That like a fiend hath left her father thus. Ithamore
What a blessing has he given’t! was ever pot of rice-porridge so sauced? Aside. What shall I do with it?
BarabasO, my sweet Ithamore, go set it down,
And come again so soon as thou hast done,
For I have other business for thee.
Here’s a drench to poison a whole stable of Flanders mares: I’ll carry’t to the nuns with a powder.
BarabasAnd the horse pestilence to boot; away!
IthamoreI am gone:
Pay me my wages, for my work is done.
I’ll pay thee with a vengeance, Ithamore!
Exit. Scene V Enter Ferneze, Martin del Bosco, Knights, and Basso.55 FernezeWelcome, great basso; how fares Calymath?
What wind drives you thus into Malta-road?
The wind that bloweth all the world besides—
Desire of gold.
Desire of gold, great sir?
That’s to be gotten in the Western Ind:
In Malta are no golden minerals.
To you of Malta thus saith Calymath:
The time you took for respite is at hand,
For the performance of your promise passed,
And for the tribute-money I am sent.
Basso, in brief, ’shalt have no tribute here,
Nor shall the heathens live upon our spoil:
First will we raze the city walls ourselves,
Lay waste the island, hew the temples down,
And, shipping off our goods to Sicily,
Open an entrance for the wasteful sea,
Whose billows, beating the resistless banks,
Shall overflow it with their refluence.
Well, governor, since thou hast broke the league
By flat denial of the promised tribute,
Talk not of razing down your city walls;
You shall not need trouble yourselves so far,
For Selim Calymath shall come himself,
And with brass bullets batter down your towers,
And turn proud Malta to a wilderness
For these intolerable wrongs of yours;
And so, farewell.
Farewell.
Exit Basso.And now, ye men of Malta, look about,
And let’s provide to welcome Calymath:
Close your portcullis, charge your basilisks,56
And as you profitably take up arms,
So now courageously encounter them;
For by this answer broken is the league,
And naught is to be looked for now but wars,
And naught to us more welcome is than wars.
O, brother, brother, all the nuns are sick,
And physic will not help them: they must die.
The abbess sent for me to be confessed:
O, what a sad confession will there be!
And so did fair Maria send for me:
I’ll to her lodging: hereabouts she lies.
What, all dead, save only Abigail?
AbigailAnd I shall die too, for I feel death coming.
Where is the friar that conversed with me?
O, he is gone to see the other nuns.
AbigailI sent for him, but, seeing you are come,
Be you my ghostly father: and first know,
That in this house I lived religiously,
Chaste, and devout, much sorrowing for my sins;
But, ere I came—
What then?
AbigailI did offend high Heaven so grievously
As I am almost desperate for my sins:
And one offence torments me more than all.
You knew Mathias and Don Lodowick?
Yes; what of them?
AbigailMy father did contract me to ’em both:
First to Don Lodowick: him I never loved;
Mathias was the man that I held dear,
And for his sake did I become a nun.
So, say how was their end?
AbigailBoth, jealous of my love, envied58 each other,
And by my father’s practice,59 which is there
Set down at large, the gallants were both slain.
Gives a written paper.
O monstrous villany!
AbigailTo work my peace, this I confess to thee;
Reveal it not, for then my father dies.
Know that confession must not be revealed,
The canon law forbids it, and the priest
That makes it known, being degraded first,
Shall be condemned, and then sent to the fire.
So I have heard; pray, therefore, keep it close.
Death seizeth on my heart: ah gentle friar,
Convert my father that he may be saved,
And witness that I die a Christian!
Dies.
Ay, and a virgin too; that grieves me most:
But I must to the Jew, and exclaim on him,
And make him stand in fear of me.
O brother, all the nuns are dead, let’s bury them.
Friar BarnadineFirst help to bury this, then go with me,
And help me to exclaim against the Jew.
Why, what has he done?
Friar BarnadineA thing that makes me tremble to unfold.
Friar JacomoWhat, has he crucified a child?60
Friar BarnadineNo, but a worse thing: ’twas told me in shrift,
Thou know’st ’tis death, an if it be revealed.
Come, let’s away.
There is no music to62 a Christian’s knell:
How sweet the bells ring now the nuns are dead,
That sound at other times like tinkers’ pans!
I was afraid the poison had not wrought:
Or, though it wrought, it would have done no good,
For every year they swell, and yet they live;
Now all are dead, not one remains alive.
That’s brave, master, but think you it will not be known?
BarabasHow can it, if we two be secret?
IthamoreFor my part fear you not.
BarabasI’d cut thy throat if I did.
IthamoreAnd reason too.
But here’s a royal monastery hard by;
Good master, let me poison all the monks.
Thou shalt not need, for, now the nuns are dead
They’ll die with grief.
Do you not sorrow for your daughter’s death?
BarabasNo, but I grieve
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