BELLAMIRA. I'll pledge thee, love, and therefore drink it off.
ITHAMORE. Say'st thou me so? have at it! and do you hear? [Whispers to her.]
BELLAMIRA. Go to, it shall be so.
ITHAMORE. Of(168) that condition I will drink it up: Here's to thee.
BELLAMIRA.(169) Nay, I'll have all or none.
ITHAMORE. There, if thou lov'st me, do not leave a drop.
BELLAMIRA. Love thee! fill me three glasses.
ITHAMORE. Three and fifty dozen: I'll pledge thee.
PILIA-BORZA. Knavely spoke, and like a knight-at-arms.
ITHAMORE. Hey, Rivo Castiliano!(170) a man's a man.
BELLAMIRA. Now to the Jew.
ITHAMORE. Ha! to the Jew; and send me money he(171) were best.
PILIA-BORZA. What wouldst thou do, if he should send thee none?
ITHAMORE. Do nothing: but I know what I know; he's a murderer.
BELLAMIRA. I had not thought he had been so brave a man.
ITHAMORE. You knew Mathias and the governor's son; he and I killed 'em both, and yet never touched 'em.
PILIA-BORZA. O, bravely done!
ITHAMORE. I carried the broth that poisoned the nuns; and he and I, snicle hand too fast, strangled a friar.(172)
BELLAMIRA. You two alone?
ITHAMORE. We two; and 'twas never known, nor never shall be for me.
PILIA-BORZA. This shall with me unto the governor. [Aside to BELLAMIRA.]
BELLAMIRA. And fit it should: but first let's ha' more gold.-- [Aside to PILIA-BORZA.] Come, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap.
ITHAMORE. Love me little, love me long: let music rumble, Whilst I in thy incony(173) lap do tumble.
Enter BARABAS, disguised as a French musician, with a lute, and a nosegay in his hat.
BELLAMIRA. A French musician!--Come, let's hear your skill.
BARABAS. Must tuna my lute for sound, twang, twang, first.
ITHAMORE. Wilt drink, Frenchman? here's to thee with a--Pox on this drunken hiccup!
BARABAS. Gramercy, monsieur.
BELLAMIRA. Prithee, Pilia-Borza, bid the fiddler give me the posy in his hat there.
PILIA-BORZA. Sirrah, you must give my mistress your posy.
BARABAS. A votre commandement, madame. [Giving nosegay.]
BELLAMIRA. How sweet, my Ithamore, the flowers smell!
ITHAMORE. Like thy breath, sweetheart; no violet like 'em.
PILIA-BORZA. Foh! methinks they stink like a hollyhock.(174)
BARABAS. So, now I am reveng'd upon 'em all: The scent thereof was death; I poison'd it. [Aside.]
ITHAMORE. Play, fiddler, or I'll cut your cat's guts into chitterlings.
BARABAS. Pardonnez moi, be no in tune yet: so, now, now all be in.
ITHAMORE. Give him a crown, and fill me out more wine.
PILIA-BORZA. There's two crowns for thee: play. [Giving money.]
BARABAS. How liberally the villain gives me mine own gold! [Aside, and then plays.]
PILIA-BORZA. Methinks he fingers very well.
BARABAS. So did you when you stole my gold. [Aside.]
PILIA-BORZA. How swift he runs!
BARABAS. You run swifter when you threw my gold out of my window. [Aside.]
BELLAMIRA. Musician, hast been in Malta long?
BARABAS. Two, three, four month, madam.
ITHAMORE. Dost not know a Jew, one Barabas?
BARABAS. Very mush: monsieur, you no be his man?
PILIA-BORZA. His man!
ITHAMORE. I scorn the peasant: tell him so.
BARABAS. He knows it already. [Aside.]
ITHAMORE. 'Tis a strange thing of that Jew, he lives upon pickled grasshoppers and sauced mushrooms.(175)
BARABAS. What a slave's this! the governor feeds not as I do. [Aside.]
ITHAMORE. He never put on clean shirt since he was circumcised.
BARABAS. O rascal! I change myself twice a-day. [Aside.]
ITHAMORE. The hat he wears, Judas left under the elder when he hanged himself.(176)
BARABAS. 'Twas sent me for a present from the Great Cham. [Aside.]
PILIA-BORZA. A nasty(177) slave he is.--Whither now, fiddler?
BARABAS. Pardonnez moi, monsieur; me(178) be no well.
PILIA-BORZA. Farewell, fiddler [Exit BARABAS.] One letter more to the Jew.
BELLAMIRA. Prithee, sweet love, one more, and write it sharp.
ITHAMORE. No, I'll send by word of mouth now. --Bid him deliver thee a thousand crowns, by the same token that the nuns loved rice, that Friar Barnardine slept in his own clothes; any of 'em will do it.