[_Whispers._ _Bell._ Go to, it shall be so.

_Itha._ Of that condition I will drink it up.

Here"s to thee.

_Bell._[133] Nay, I"ll have all or none.

_Itha._ There, if thou lov"st me do not leave a drop.

_Bell._ Love thee! fill me three gla.s.ses.

_Itha._ Three and fifty dozen, I"ll pledge thee.

_Pilia._ Knavely spoke, and like a knight at arms.

_Itha._ Hey, _Rivo[134] Castiliano_! a man"s a man. 10

_Bell._ Now to the Jew.

_Itha._ Ha! to the Jew, and send me money he were best.

_Pilia._ What would"st thou do if he should send thee none?

_Itha._ Do nothing; but I know what I know; he"s a murderer.

_Bell._ I had not thought he had been so brave a man.

_Itha._ You knew Mathias and the Governor"s son; he and I killed "em both, and yet never touched "em.

_Pilia._ O, bravely done.

_Itha._ I carried the broth that poisoned the nuns; and he and I, snickle hand too fast,[135] strangled a friar. 20

_Bell._ You two alone!

_Itha._ We two, and "twas never known, nor never shall be for me.

_Pilia._ This shall with me unto the Governor.

[_Aside to_ BELLAMIRA.

_Bell._ And fit it should: but first let"s ha" more gold.

[_Aside._ Come, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap.

_Itha._ Love me little, love me long; let music rumble Whilst I in thy incony[136] lap do tumble.

_Enter_ BARABAS, _with a lute, disguised._

_Bell._ A French musician; come, let"s hear your skill?

_Bar._ Must tuna my lute for sound, _tw.a.n.g_, _tw.a.n.g_ first. 31

_Itha._ Wilt drink, Frenchman? here"s to thee with a----Pox on this drunken hiccup!

_Bar._ Gramercy, monsieur.

_Bell._ Prythee, Pilia-Borsa, bid the fiddler give me the posy in his hat there.

_Pilia._ Sirrah, you must give my mistress your posy.

_Bar._ _A votre commandment, madame._

_Bell._ How sweet, my Ithamore, the flowers smell.

_Itha._ Like thy breath, sweetheart, no violet like "em. 40

_Pilia._ Foh! methinks they stink like a hollyhock.

_Bar._ So, now I am revenged upon "em all.

The scent thereof was death; I poisoned it. [_Aside._

_Itha._ Play, fiddler, or I"ll cut your cat"s guts into chitterlings.

_Bar. Pardonnez moi_, be no in tune yet; so now, now all be in.

_Itha._ Give him a crown, and fill me out more wine.

_Pilia._ There"s two crowns for thee, play.

_Bar._ How liberally the villain gives me mine own gold.

[_Aside._ 51

_Pilia._ Methinks he fingers very well.

_Bar._ So did you when you stole my gold. [_Aside._

_Pilia._ How swift he runs.

_Bar._ You ran swifter when you threw my gold out of my window. [_Aside._

_Bell._ Musician, hast been in Malta long?

_Bar._ Two, three, four month, madam.

_Itha._ Dost not know a Jew, one Barabas?

_Bar._ Very mush; monsieur, you no be his man? 60

_Pilia._ His man?

_Itha._ I scorn the peasant; tell him so.