Itha. As I behave myself in this, employ me here after. Bar. Away then. [Exit. So, now will I go in to Lodowick, And, like a cunning spirit, feign some lie, Till I have set 'em both at enmity. [Exit. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. Enter1 BELLAMIRA, a courtesan. Bell. Since this town was besieged, my gain grows cold: The time has been that, but for one bare night, And now, save Pilia-Borza, comes there none, And here he comes. Enter PILIA-BORZA. Pilia. Hold thee, wench, there's something for thee to spend. 1 Bellamira displays herself on a balcony. Cf. a stage-direction in Brome's Covent Garden Weeded :-"Enter Dorcas above on a Bellconie. Gabriel gazes at her. Dorcas is habited like a curtizan of Venice." Bell. 'Tis silver. I disdain it. Pilia. I, but the Jew has gold, And I will have it, or it shall go hard. Court. Tell me, how cam'st thou by this? Pilia. 'Faith, walking the back lanes, through the gardens, I chanced to cast mine eye up to the Jew's counting-house, where I saw some bags of money, and in the night I clambered up with my hooks, and, as I was taking my choice, I heard a rumbling in the house; so I took only this, and run my way: but here's the Jew's man. Bell. Hide the bag. Enter ITHAMORE. 24 Pilia. Look not towards him, let's away: zoon's, what a looking thou keep'st; thou'lt betray 's anon. [Exeunt Courtesan and PILIA-Borza. Itha. O the sweetest face that ever I beheld! I know she is a courtesan by her attire: now would I give a hundred of the Jew's crowns that I had such a concubine. Well, I have delivered the challenge in such sort, 31 As meet they will, and fighting die; brave sport. [Exit. SCENE II. Enter MATHIAS.1 Math. This is the place, now Abigail shall see Whether Mathias holds her dear or no. 1 Scene: a street. Enter LODOWICK.1 What, dares the villain write in such base terms? [Reading a letter. Lod. I did it; and revenge it if thou dar❜st. Enter BARABAS, above.2 [They fight. Bar. O bravely fought; and yet they thrust not home. Now, Lodowick! now, Mathias! So [Both fall. So now they have showed themselves to be tall 3 fellows. [Cries within.] Part 'em, part 'em. Bar. I, part 'em now they are dead. Farewell, farewell. Enter Governor and MATHIAS'S Mother. [Exit. Gov. What sight is this?-my Lodowick slain ! 10 These arms of mine shall be thy sepulchre.5 Mother. Who is this? my son Mathias slain ! Gov. O Lodowick! had'st thou perished by the Turk, Wretched Ferneze might have 'venged thy death. 1 Old ed. "Enter Lodow. reading. "Math. What dares the villain," &c. The challenge was 66 from Lodowick," * On the upper-stage, a raised platform. 3 Bold. feign'd ♦ Here and elsewhere, for the sake of the metre, Dyce prints "Lodovico." Perhaps he is right, for the name may have been contracted into "Lod." or Lodo." in the MS. from which the play was printed. 5 Dyce compares 3 Henry VI. ii. 5 :- "These arms of mine shall be thy winding sheet; My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy supulchre." Mother. Thy son slew mine, and I'll revenge his death. Gov. Look, Katherine, look!-thy son gave mine these wounds. Mother. O leave to grieve me, I am grieved enough. Gov. O! that my sighs could turn to lively breath; And these my tears to blood, that he might live. Mother. Who made them enemies? Gov. I know not, and that grieves me most of all. Gov. And so did Lodowick him. Mother. Lend me that weapon that did kill my son, And it shall murder me. Gov. Nay, madam, stay; that weapon was my son's, And on that rather should Ferneze die. 20 Mother. Hold, let's inquire the causers of their deaths, That we may 'venge their blood upon their heads. Gov. Then take them up, and let them be interred 30 Within one sacred monument of stone; Upon which altar 1 I will offer up My daily sacrifice of sighs and tears, And with my prayers pierce impartial 2 heavens, 66 1 Cf. Two Gentlemen of Verona, iii, 2 :— 'Say that upon the altar of her beauty You sacrifice your tears." 2 41 Impartial" is occasionally used by old writers in the sense of 'unkindly." Cf. Prologue to Peele's Arraignment of Paris:"Th' unpartial daughters of Necessity Bin aiders in her suit." So in William Smith's Chloris (Sonnet 11):— "No, it was not Nature's ornament But winged love's unpartial cruel wound." |