ABIG. Why, how now, Ithamore? why laugh'st thou so?

ITHA. Oh, mistress! ha, ha, ha!

ABIG. Why, what ail'st thou?

ITHA. Oh, my master!

ABIG. Ha!

ITHA. Oh, mistress, I have the bravest, gravest, secret, subtle, bottle-nosed * knave to my master, that ever gentleman had!

ABIG. Say, knave, why rail'st upon my father thus?

ITHA. Oh, my master has the bravest policy!
ABIG. Wherein?

ITHA. Why, know you not?

ABIG. Why, no.

ITHA. Know you not of Mathia[s'] and Don Lodowick['s] disaster?

ABIG. No: what was it?

ITHA. Why, the devil invented a challenge, my master writ it, and I carried it, first to Lodowick, and imprimis to Mathia[s];

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

In doleful wise they ended both their days. ABIG. And was my father furtherer of their deaths?

ITHA. Am I Ithamore?

bottle-nosed] See note, p. 276.

ABIG. Yes.

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

ABIG. Well, Ithamore, let me request thee this; Go to the new-made nunnery, and inquire

For

any

of the friars of St. Jaques*,

And say, I pray them come and speak with me.

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

ABIG. Well, sirrah, what is't?

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

ABIG. Go to, sirrah Sauce! is this your question? get you gone.

ITHA. I will, forsooth, mistress.

[Exit.

ABIG. Hard-hearted father, unkind Barabas!

Was this the pursuit of thy policy,

To make me shew them favour severally,

That by my favour they should both be slain?
Admit thou lov'd'st not Lodowick for his siret,
Yet Don Mathias ne'er offended thee:

But thou wert set upon extreme revenge,
Because the prior dispossess'd thee once,
And couldst not 'venge it, but upon his son;
Nor on his son, but by Mathias' means;

* Jaques] Old ed. "Iaynes."

t sire] Old ed. " sinne" (which, modernised to "sin", the editors retain, among many other equally obvious errors of the old copy).

Nor on Mathias, but by murdering me:
But I perceive there is no love on earth,
Pity in Jews, nor piety in Turks.

But here comes cursèd Ithamore with the friar.

Re-enter ITHAMORE with FRIAR JACOMO.

FRIAR JAC. Virgo, salve.

ITHA. When duck you ?

ABIG. Welcome, grave friar.—Ithamore, begone.

[Exit Ithamore.

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

FRIAR JAC. Wherein?

ABIG. To get me be admitted for a nun.

FRIAR JAC. Why, Abigail, it is not yet long since That I did labour thy admission,

And then thou didst not like that holy life.

ABIG. Then were my thoughts so frail and uncon

firm'd,

And I was chain'd to follies of the world:
But now experience, purchased with grief,
Has made me see the difference of things.
My sinful soul, alas, hath pac'd too long
The fatal labyrinth of misbelief,
Far from the Son that gives eternal life!
FRIAR JAC. Who taught thee this?
ABIG. The abbess of the house,

Whose zealous admonition I embrace:
Oh, therefore, Jacomo*, let me be one,

* Jacomo] Old ed. " Iacomi."

Although unworthy, of that sisterhood!

FRIAR JAC. Abigail, I will: but see thou change

no more,

For that will be most heavy to thy soul.

ABIG. That was my father's fault.

FRIAR JAC. Thy father's! how?

ABIG. Nay, you shall pardon me.—Oh, Barabas, Though thou deservest hardly at my hands,

Yet never shall these lips bewray thy life.

[Aside.

FRIAR JAC. Come, shall we go?

[Exeunt.

ABIG. My duty waits on you.

Enter BARABAS*, reading a letter.

BARA. What, Abigail become a nun again!

False and unkind! what, hast thou lost thy father? And, all unknown and unconstrain'd of me,

Art thou again got to the nunnery?

Now here she writes, and wills me to repent:
Repentance! Spurca! what pretendeth + this?
I fear she knows ('tis so) of my device
In Don Mathias' and Lodovico's deaths:
If so, 'tis time that it be seen into;
For she that varies from me in belief,

Gives

great presumption that she loves me not, Or, loving, doth dislike of something done. But who comes here?

*Enter Barabas] The scene is still within the house of Barabas; but some time is supposed to have elapsed since the preceding conference between Abigail and Friar Jacomo. ↑ pretendeth] i. e. intendeth, designeth.

Enter ITHA MORE.

Oh, Ithamore, come near;

Come near, my love; come near, thy master's life,

My trusty servant, nay, my second life*

For I have now no hope but even in thee,

And on that hope my happiness is built.
When saw'st thou Abigail?

ITHA. To-day.

BARA. With whom?

ITHA. A friar.

BARA. A friar! false villain, he hath done the deed. ITHA. How, sir?

BARA. Why, made mine Abigail a nun.

ITHA. That's no lie; for she sent me for him.
BARA. Oh, unhappy day!

False, credulous, inconstant Abigail!

But let 'em go: and, Ithamore, from hence
Ne'er shall she grieve me more with her disgrace;
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.

ITHA. Oh, master

BARA. Ithamore, entreat not for her; I am mov'd,

And she is hateful to my soul and me :

And, 'less † thou yield to this that I entreat,

life] Qy."self" (the compositor's eye having caught

"life" in the preceding line)?

+ 'less] Old ed. "least."