The Jew of Malta Christopher Marlowe (top non fiction books of all time txt) š
- Author: Christopher Marlowe
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I did, sir, and from this gentlewoman, who, as myself, and the rest of the family, stand or fall at your service.
BellamiraThough womanās modesty should hale me back, I can withhold no longer: welcome, sweet love.
IthamoreNow am I clean, or rather foully out of the way. Aside.
BellamiraWhither so soon?
IthamoreIāll go steal some money from my master to make me handsome Aside.ā āPray, pardon me; I must go see a ship discharged.
BellamiraCanst thou be so unkind to leave me thus?
Pilia-BorzaAn ye did but know how she loves you, sir!
IthamoreNay, I care not how much she loves meā āSweet Bellamira, would I had my masterās wealth for thy sake!
Pilia-BorzaAnd you can have it, sir, an if you please.
IthamoreIf ātwere above ground, I could and would have it; but he hides and buries it up, as partridges do their eggs, under the earth.
Pilia-BorzaAnd isāt not possible to find it out?
IthamoreBy no means possible.
BellamiraWhat shall we do with this base villain then? Aside to Pilia-Borza.
Pilia-BorzaLet me alone; do but you speak him fair.ā āAside to her.
But sir know some secrets of the Jew,
Which, if they were revealed, would do him harm.
Ay, and such asā āGo to, no more! Iāll make him send me half he has, and glad he āscapes so too: Iāll write unto him; weāll have money straight.
Pilia-BorzaSend for a hundred crowns at least.
IthamoreTen hundred thousand crowns.ā āWriting. āMaster Barabas.ā
Pilia-BorzaWrite not so submissively, but threatening him.
IthamoreWriting. āSirrah Barabas, send me a hundred crowns.ā
Pilia-BorzaPut in two hundred at least.
IthamoreWriting. āI charge thee send me three hundred by this bearer, and this shall be your warrant: if you do notā āno more, but so.ā
Pilia-BorzaTell him you will confess.
IthamoreWriting. āOtherwise Iāll confess all.āā āVanish, and return in a twinkle.
Pilia-BorzaLet me alone; Iāll use him in his kind.
Exit Pilia-Borza with the letter. IthamoreHang him, Jew!
BellamiraNow, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap.ā ā
Where are my maids? provide a running78 banquet;
Send to the merchant, bid him bring me silks;
Shall Ithamore, my love, go in such rags?
And bid the jeweller come hither too.
BellamiraI have no husband, sweet; Iāll marry thee.
IthamoreContent: but we will leave this paltry land,
And sail from hence to Greece, to lovely Greece.
Iāll be thy Jason, thou my golden fleece;
Where painted carpets oāer the meads are hurled,
And Bacchusā vineyards overspread the world;
Where woods and forests go in goodly green,
Iāll be Adonis, thou shalt be Loveās Queen.
The meads, the orchards, and the primrose-lanes,
Instead of sedge and reed, bear sugar-canes:
Thou in those groves, by Dis above,
Shalt live with me, and be my love.
Whither will I not go with gentle Ithamore?
Re-enter Pilia-Borza. IthamoreHow now! hast thou the gold?
Pilia-BorzaYes.
IthamoreBut came it freely? did the cow give down her milk freely?
Pilia-BorzaAt reading of the letter, he stared and stamped and turned aside. I took him by the beard, and looked upon him thus; told him he were best to send it; then he hugged and embraced me.
IthamoreRather for fear than love.
Pilia-BorzaThen, like a Jew, he laughed and jeered, and told me he loved me for your sake, and said what a faithful servant you had been.
IthamoreThe more villain he to keep me thus; hereās goodly āparel, is there not?
Pilia-BorzaTo conclude, he gave me ten crowns. Gives the money to Ithamore.
IthamoreBut ten? Iāll not leave him worth a grey groat. Give me a ream79 of paper: weāll have a kingdom of gold forāt.
Pilia-BorzaWrite for five hundred crowns.
IthamoreWriting. āSirrah Jew, as you love your life, send me five hundred crowns, and give the bearer a hundred.ā āā Tell him I must haveāt.
Pilia-BorzaI warrant, your worship shall haveāt.
IthamoreAnd, if he ask why I demand so much, tell him I scorn to write a line under a hundred crowns.
Pilia-BorzaYouād make a rich poet, sir. I am gone.
Exit. IthamoreTake thou the money; spend it for my sake.
BellamiraāTis not thy money, but thyself I weigh;
Thus Bellamira esteems of gold. Throws it aside.
But thus of thee. Kisses him.
That kiss again! she runs division80 of my lips.
What an eye she casts on me! it twinkles like a star.
Come, my dear love, letās in and sleep together.
IthamoreO, that ten thousand nights were put in one, that we might sleep seven years together afore we wake!
BellamiraCome, amorous wag, first banquet, and then sleep.
Exeunt. Scene V Enter Barabas, reading a letter.81 BarabasāBarabas, send me three hundred crowns.ā āā
Plain Barabas! O, that wicked courtesan!
He was not wont to call me Barabas.
āOr else i will confess:ā ay, there it goes:
But, if I get him, coupe de gorge for that.
He sent a shaggy tottered,82 staring slave,
That when he speaks draws out his grisly beard,
And winds it twice or thrice about his ear;
Whose face has been a grindstone for menās swords;
His hands are hacked, some fingers cut quite off;
Who, when he speaks, grunts like a hog, and looks
Like one that is employed in catzerie83
And cross-biting,84ā āsuch a rogue
As is the husband to a hundred whores:
And I by him must send three hundred crowns!
Well, my hope is, he will not stay there still;
And, when he comes: O, that he were but here!
Jew, I must have more gold.
BarabasWhy, wantāst thou any of thy tale?85
Pilia-BorzaNo; but three hundred will not serve his turn.
BarabasNot serve his turn, sir!
Pilia-BorzaNo, sir; and therefore, I must have five hundred more.
BarabasIāll ratherā ā
Pilia-BorzaO good words, sir, and send it you were best! see, thereās his letter. Gives letter.
BarabasMight he not as well come as send? pray bid him come and fetch it; what he writes for you,
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