The Works of Christopher Marlowe Volume II Part 9

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_Bar._ O, Heaven forbid I should have such a thought.

Pardon me though I weep: the Governor's son 260 Will, whether I will or no, have Abigail: He sends her letters, bracelets, jewels, rings.

_Math._ Does she receive them?

_Bar._ She? No, Mathias, no, but sends them back, And when he comes, she locks herself up fast; Yet through the keyhole will he talk to her, While she runs to the window looking out, When you should come and hale him from the door.

_Math._ O treacherous Lodowick!

_Bar._ Even now as I came home, he slipt me in, 270 And I am sure he is with Abigail.

_Math._ I'll rouse him thence.

_Bar._ Not for all Malta, therefore sheathe your sword; If you love me, no quarrels in my house; But steal you in, and seem to see him not; I'll give him such a warning ere he goes As he shall have small hopes of Abigail.

Away, for here they come.

_Enter_ LODOWICK _and_ ABIGAIL.

_Math._ What, hand in hand! I cannot suffer this.

_Bar._ Mathias, as thou lovest me, not a word. 280

_Math._ Well, let it pa.s.s, another time shall serve.

[_Exit._ _Lod._ Barabas, is not that the widow's son?

_Bar._ I, and take heed, for he hath sworn your death.

_Lod._ My death? what, is the base-born peasant mad?

_Bar._ No, no, but happily he stands in fear Of that which you, I think, ne'er dream upon, My daughter here, a paltry silly girl.

_Lod._ Why, loves she Don Mathias?

_Bar._ Doth she not with her smiling answer you?

_Abig._ He has my heart; I smile against my will. [_Aside._ 290

_Lod._ Barabas, thou know'st I've loved thy daughter long.

_Bar._ And so has she done you, even from a child.

_Lod._ And now I can no longer hold my mind.

_Bar._ Nor I the affection that I bear to you.

_Lod._ This is thy diamond, tell me shall I have it?

_Bar._ Win it, and wear it, it is yet unsoiled.

O! but I know your lords.h.i.+p would disdain To marry with the daughter of a Jew; And yet I'll give her many a golden cross[75]

With Christian posies round about the ring. 300

_Lod._ Tis not thy wealth, but her that I esteem.

Yet crave I thy consent.

_Bar._ And mine you have, yet let me talk to her.-- This offspring of Cain, this Jebusite, That never tasted of the Pa.s.sover, Nor e'er shall see the land of Canaan, Nor our Messias that is yet to come; This gentle maggot, Lodowick, I mean, Must be deluded: let him have thy hand, But keep thy heart till Don Mathias comes. [_Aside._ 310

_Abig._ What, shall I be betrothed to Lodowick?

_Bar._ It's no sin to deceive a Christian; For they themselves hold it a principle, Faith is not to be held with heretics; But all are heretics that are not Jews; This follows well, and therefore, daughter, fear not. [_Aside._ I have entreated her, and she will grant.

_Lod._ Then, gentle Abigail, plight thy faith to me.

_Abig._ I cannot chuse, seeing my father bids.-- Nothing but death shall part my love and me. [_Aside._ 320

_Lod._ Now have I that for which my soul hath longed.

_Bar._ So have not I, but yet I hope I shall. [_Aside._

_Abig._ O wretched Abigail, what hast thou[76] done?

[_Aside._

_Lod._ Why on the sudden is your colour changed?

_Abig._ I know not, but farewell, I must be gone.

_Bar._ Stay her, but let her not speak one word more.

_Lod._ Mute o' the sudden; here's a sudden change.

_Bar._ O, muse not at it, 'tis the Hebrew's guise, That maidens new betrothed should weep awhile: Trouble her not; sweet Lodowick, depart: 330 She is thy wife, and thou shalt be mine heir.

_Lod._ O, is't the custom? then I am resolved: But rather let the brightsome heavens be dim, And nature's beauty choke with stifling clouds, Than my fair Abigail should frown on me.-- There comes the villain, now I'll be revenged.

_Enter_ MATHIAS.

_Bar._ Be quiet, Lodowick, it is enough That I have made thee sure to Abigail.

_Lod._ Well, let him go. [_Exit._

_Bar._ Well, but for me, as you went in at doors 340 You had been stabbed, but not a word on't now; Here must no speeches pa.s.s, nor swords be drawn.

_Math._ Suffer me, Barabas, but to follow him.

_Bar._ No; so shall I, if any hurt be done, Be made an accessary of your deeds; Revenge it on him when you meet him next.

_Math._ For this I'll have his heart.

_Bar._ Do so; lo here I give thee Abigail.

The Works of Christopher Marlowe Volume II Part 9

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