The Complete Plays

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The Complete Plays Page 30

by Christopher Marlowe


  VOICES WITHIN Part ’em, part ’em!

  BARABAS

  Ay, part ’em now they are dead. Farewell, farewell.

  Exit [BARABAS].

  Enter FERNEZE, KATHERINE [and ATTENDANTS].

  FERNEZE

  10 What sight is this? My Lodowick slain!

  These arms of mine shall be thy sepulchre.

  KATHERINE

  Who is this? My son Mathias slain!

  FERNEZE

  O Lodowick, hadst thou perished by the Turk,

  Wretched Ferneze might have venged thy death.

  KATHERINE

  Thy son slew mine, and I’ll revenge his death.

  FERNEZE

  Look, Katherine, look, thy son gave mine these wounds.

  KATHERINEY

  O, leave to grieve me! I am grieved enough.

  FERNEZE

  O, that my sighs could turn to lively breath,

  And these my tears to blood, that he might live!

  KATHERINE

  20 Who made them enemies?

  FERNEZE

  I know not, and that grieves me most of all.

  KATHERINE

  My son loved thine.

  FERNEZE And so did Lodowick him.

  KATHERINE

  Lend me that weapon that did kill my son,

  And it shall murder me.

  FERNEZE

  Nay, madam, stay. That weapon was my son’s,

  And on that rather should Ferneze die.

  KATHERINE

  Hold. Let’s inquire the causers of their deaths,

  That we may venge their blood upon their heads.

  FERNEZE

  Then take them up, and let them be interred

  30 Within one sacred monument of stone,

  Upon which altar I will offer up

  My daily sacrifice of sighs and tears,

  And with my prayers pierce impartial heavens,

  Till they reveal the causers of our smarts,

  Which forced their hands divide united hearts.

  Come, Katherine, our losses equal are,

  Then of true grief let us take equal share.

  Exeunt [with the bodies].

  [Scene 3]

  Enter ITHAMORE.

  ITHAMORE

  Why, was there ever seen such villainy,

  So neatly plotted and so well performed?

  Both held in hand, and flatly both beguiled?

  Enter ABIGALL.

  ABIGALL Why, how now, Ithamore, why laugh’st thou so?

  ITHAMORE O mistress, ha, ha, ha!

  ABIGALL Why, what ail’st thou?

  ITHAMORE O, my master!

  ABIGALL Ha!

  ITHAMORE O mistress, I have the bravest, gravest, secret, subtle,

  10 bottle-nosed knave to my master that ever gentleman had.

  ABIGALL Say, knave, why rail’st upon my father thus?

  ITHAMORE O, my master has the bravest policy.

  ABIGALL Wherein?

  ITHAMORE Why, know you not?

  ABIGALL Why, no.

  ITHAMORE Know you not of Mathias’ and Don Lodowick’s disaster?

  ABIGALL No, what was it?

  ITHAMORE Why, the devil invented a challenge, my master

  20 writ it, and I carried it, first to Lodowick and imprimis to Mathias.

  And then they met, and, as the story says,

  In doleful wise they ended both their days.

  ABIGALL And was my father furtherer of their deaths?

  ITHAMORE Am I Ithamore?

  ABIGALL Yes.

  ITHAMORE So sure did your father write, and I carry, the challenge.

  ABIGALL

  Well, Ithamore, let me request thee this:

  30 Go to the new-made nunnery, and inquire

  For any of the friars of Saint Jacques,

  And say I pray them come and speak with me.

  ITHAMORE I pray, mistress, will you answer me to one question?

  ABIGALL Well, sirrah, what is’t?

  ITHAMORE A very feeling one: have not the nuns fine sport with the friars now and then?

  ABIGALL Go to, sirrah sauce, is this your question? Get ye gone.

  ITHAMORE I will forsooth, mistress.

  Exit [ITHAMORE].

  ABIGALL

  Hard-hearted father, unkind Barabas,

  40 Was this the pursuit of thy policy,

  To make me show them favour severally,

  That by my favour they should both be slain?

  Admit thou loved’st not Lodowick for his sire,

  Yet Don Mathias ne’er offended thee.

  But thou wert set upon extreme revenge,

  Because the prior dispossessed thee once,

  And couldst not venge it but upon his son,

  Nor on his son but by Mathias’ means,

  Nor on Mathias but by murdering me.

  50 But I perceive there is no love on earth,

  Pity in Jews, nor piety in Turks.

  But here comes cursèd Ithamore with the friar.

  Enter ITHAMORE [and] FRIAR [JACOMO].

  FRIAR JACOMO Virgo, salve!

  ITHAMORE When, duck you?

  ABIGALL

  Welcome, grave friar. Ithamore, begone.

  Exit [ITHAMORE].

  Know, holy sir, I am bold to solicit thee.

  FRIAR JACOMO Wherein?

  ABIGALL

  To get me be admitted for a nun.

  FRIAR JACOMO

  Why, Abigall, it is not yet long since

  60 That I did labour thy admission,

  And then thou didst not like that holy life.

  ABIGALL

  Then were my thoughts so frail and unconfirmed,

  And I was chained to follies of the world;

  But now experience, purchasèd with grief,

  Has made me see the difference of things.

  My sinful soul, alas, hath paced too long

  The fatal labyrinth of misbelief,

  Far from the Son that gives eternal life.

  FRIAR JACOMO

  Who taught thee this?

  ABIGALL The abbess of the house,

  70 Whose zealous admonition I embrace.

  O therefore, Jacomo, let me be one,

  Although unworthy, of that sisterhood.

  FRIAR JACOMO

  Abigall, I will, but see thou change no more,

  For that will be most heavy to thy soul.

  ABIGALL

  That was my father’s fault.

  FRIAR JACOMO Thy father’s? How?

  ABIGALL

  Nay, you shall pardon me. [Aside] O Barabas,

  Though thou deservest hardly at my hands,

  Yet never shall these lips bewray thy life.

  FRIAR JACOMO

  Come, shall we go?

  ABIGALL My duty waits on you.

  Exeunt.

  [Scene 4]

  Enter BARABAS, reading a letter.

  BARABAS

  What, Abigall become a nun again?

  False and unkind! What, hast thou lost thy father,

  And, all unknown and unconstrained of me,

  Art thou again got to the nunnery?

  Now here she writes, and wills me to repent.

  Repentance? Spurcal What pretendeth this?

  I fear she knows (’tis so) of my device

  In Don Mathias’ and Lodovico’s deaths.

  If so, ’tis time it be seen into,

  10 For she that varies from me in belief

  Gives great presumption that she loves me not,

  Or, loving, doth dislike of something done.

  [Enter ITHAMORE.]

  But who comes here? O Ithamore, come near.

  Come near, my love, come near, thy master’s life,

  My trusty servant, nay, my second self!

  For I have now no hope but even in thee,

  And on that hope my happiness is built.

  When saw’st thou Abigall?

  ITHAMORE Today.

  BARABAS Wit
h whom?

  20

  ITHAMORE A friar.

  BARABAS A friar? False villain, he hath done the deed.

  ITHAMORE HOW, sir?

  BARABAS Why, made mine Abigall a nun.

  ITHAMORE That’s no lie, for she sent me for him.

  BARABAS

  O, unhappy day!

  False, credulous, inconstant Abigall!

  But let ’em go; and Ithamore, from hence

  Ne’er shall she grieve me more with her disgrace;

  30 Ne’er shall she live to inherit aught of mine,

  Be blest of me, nor come within my gates,

  But perish underneath my bitter curse,

  Like Cain by Adam, for his brother’s death.

  ITHAMORE O, master!

  BARABAS

  Ithamore, entreat not for her, I am moved,

  And she is hateful to my soul and me.

  And ’less thou yield to this that I entreat,

  I cannot think but that thou hat’st my life.

  ITHAMORE Who, I, master? Why, I’ll run to some rock and

  40

  throw myself headlong into the sea. Why, I’ll do anything for

  your sweet sake.

  BARABAS

  O trusty Ithamore, no servant, but my friend!

  I here adopt thee for mine only heir.

  All that I have is thine when I am dead,

  And, whilst I live, use half; spend as myself.

  Here, take my keys. I’ll give ’em thee anon.

  Go buy thee garments. But thou shalt not want.

  Only know this, that thus thou art to do.

  But first go fetch me in the pot of rice

  50 That for our supper stands upon the fire.

  ITHAMORE [aside] I hold my head my master’s hungry.

  [To him] I go, sir.

  Exit [ITHAMORE].

  BARABAS

  Thus every villain ambles after wealth,

  Although he ne’er be richer than in hope.

  But husht.

  Enter ITHAMORE with the pot.

  ITHAMORE Here ’tis, master.

  BARABAS Well said, Ithamore.

  What, hast thou brought the ladle with thee too?

  ITHAMORE Yes, sir; the proverb says, he that eats with the devil

  60

  had need of a long spoon. I have brought you a ladle.

  BARABAS

  Very well, Ithamore, then now be secret,

  And for thy sake, whom I so dearly love,

  Now shalt thou see the death of Abigall,

  That thou mayst freely live to be my heir.

  ITHAMORE Why, master, will you poison her with a mess of rice porridge? That will preserve life, make her round and plump, and batten more than you are aware.

  BARABAS

  Ay, but Ithamore, seest thou this?

  [He shows a poison.]

  It is a precious powder that I bought

  70 Of an Italian in Ancona once,

  Whose operation is to bind, infect,

  And poison deeply, yet not appear

  In forty hours after it is ta’en.

  ITHAMORE How, master?

  BARABAS

  Thus, Ithamore:

  This even they use in Malta here – ’tis called

  Saint Jacques’ Even – and then, I say, they use

  To send their alms unto the nunneries.

  Among the rest bear this and set it there.

  80 There’s a dark entry where they take it in,

  Where they must neither see the messenger,

  Nor make inquiry who hath sent it them.

  ITHAMORE HOW SO?

  BARABAS

  Belike there is some ceremony in’t.

  There, Ithamore, must thou go place this pot.

  Stay, let me spice it first.

  ITHAMORE Pray do, and let me help you, master. Pray let me taste first.

  BARABAS

  Prithee do. [ITHAMORE tastes.] What say’st thou now?

  ITHAMORE Troth, master, I’m loath such a pot of pottage

  90

  should be spoiled.

  BARABAS [adding poison]

  Peace, Ithamore, ’tis better so than spared.

  Assure thyself thou shalt have broth by the eye.

  My purse, my coffer, and myself is thine.

  ITHAMORE Well, master, I go.

  BARABAS

  Stay, first let me stir it, Ithamore.

  As fatal be it to her as the draught

  Of which great Alexander drunk and died,

  And with her let it work like Borgia’s wine,

  100 Whereof his sire, the Pope, was poisonèd!

  In few, the blood of Hydra, Lerna’s bane,

  The juice of hebon, and Cocytus’ breath,

  And all the poisons of the Stygian pool,

  Break from the fiery kingdom, and in this

  Vomit your venom and envenom 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? What shall I do with it?

  BARABAS

  O my sweet Ithamore, go set it down,

  110 And come again so soon as thou hast done,

  For I have other business for thee.

  ITHAMORE Here’s a drench to poison a whole stable of Flanders mares! I’ll carry’t to the nuns with a powder.

  BARABAS

  And the horse-pestilence to boot. Away!

  ITHAMORE I am gone.

  Pay me my wages, for my work is done.

  Exit [ITHAMORE, with the pot].

  BARABAS

  I’ll pay thee with a vengeance, Ithamore.

  Exit.

  [Scene 5]

  Enter FERNEZE, [MARTIN DEL] BOSCO, KNIGHTS, [and CALLAPINE, the] bashaw [with his train].

  FERNEZE

  Welcome, great bashaws. How fares Calymath?

  What wind drives you thus into Malta road?

  CALLAPINE

  The wind that bloweth all the world besides:

  Desire of gold.

  FERNEZE Desire of gold, great sir?

  That’s to be gotten in the Western Inde;

  In Malta are no golden minerals.

  CALLAPINE

  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.

  10

  FERNEZE

  Bashaw, 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.

  CALLAPINE

  Well, governor, since thou hast broke the league

  20 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.

  [Exeunt CALLAPINE and his train.]

  FERNEZE

  Farewell.

  And now, you men of Malta, look about,

  30 And let’s provide to welcome Calymath.

  Close your portcullis, charge your basilisks,

  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.

  Exeunt.

  [
Scene 6]

  Enter [the] two FRIARS [JACOMO and BARNARDINE].

  FRIAR JACOMO

  O brother, brother, all the nuns are sick,

  And physic will not help them! They must die.

  FRIAR BARNARDINE

  The abbess sent for me to be confessed.

  O, what a sad confession will there be!

  FRIAR JACOMO

  And so did fair Maria send for me.

  I’ll to her lodging; hereabouts she lies.

  Exit [FRIAR JACOMO].

  Enter ABIGALL.

  FRIAR BARNARDINE

  What, all dead save only Abigall?

  ABIGALL

  And I shall die too, for I feel death coming.

  Where is the friar that conversed with me?

  FRIAR BARNARDINE

  10 O, he is gone to see the other nuns.

  ABIGALL

  I 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–

  FRIAR BARNARDINE What then?

  ABIGALL

  I did offend high heaven so grievously,

  As I am almost desperate for my sins,

  And one offence torments me more than all.

  20 You knew Mathias and Don Lodowick?

  FRIAR BARNARDINE Yes, what of them?

  ABIGALL

  My 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.

  FRIAR BARNARDINE

  So. Say, how was their end?

  ABIGALL

  Both, jealous of my love, envied each other,

  And by my father’s practice, which is there

  Set down at large, the gallants were both slain.

  [She gives him a paper.]

  FRIAR BARNARDINE O, monstrous villainy!

  30

  ABIGALL

  To work my peace, this I confess to thee.

  Reveal it not, for then my father dies.

  FRIAR BARNARDINE

  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.

  ABIGALL

  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,

  40 And witness that I die a Christian.

  [She dies.]

  FRIAR BARNARDINE

  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.

  Enter FRIAR [JACOMO].

  FRIAR JACOMO

  O brother, all the nuns are dead! Let’s bury them.

 

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