Aye, let me sorrow for this sudden chance, 'Tis in the trouble of my spirit I speak;

Great injuries are not so soon forgot.

1 JEW. Come, let us leave him in this ireful mood, Our words will but increase his extasy.

2 JEW. On then; but trust me 'tis a misery

To see a man in such affliction:

Farewell Barabas!

BAR. Aye, fare you well.

See the simplicity of these base slaves,

Who, for the villains have no wit themselves, Think me to be a senseless lump of clay That will with every water wash to dirt: xNo, Barabas is born to better chance,

[Exeunt.

And fram'd of finer mould than common men,
That measure nought but by the present time.
A reaching thought will search his deepest wits,
And cast with cunning for the time to come:
For evils are apt to happen every day-
But whither wends my beauteous Abigail?
Enter ABIGAIL, the Jew's daughter.
Oh! what has made my lovely daughter sad?
What? woman, moan not for a little loss:
Thy father hath enough in store for thee.
ABIG. Not for myself, but aged Barabas,
Father, for thee lamenteth Abigail :
But I will learn to leave these fruitless tears;
And urg'd thereto with my afflictions,
With fierce exclaims run to the senate-house,
And in the senate reprehend them all,

And rend their hearts with tearing of my hair.
Till they reduce the wrongs done to my father.
BAR. No, Abigail, things past recovery
Are hardly cur'd with exclamations.

Be silent, daughter, sufferance breeds ease,
And time may yield us an occasion

Which on the sudden cannot serve the turn.
Besides, my girl, think me not all so fond
As negligently to forego so much
Without provision for thyself and me.
Ten thousand portagues, besides great pearls,
Rich costly jewels, and stones infinite,
Fearing the worst of this before it fell,
I closely hid.

ABIG. Where father?

BAR. In my house, my girl.

ABIG. Then shall they ne'er be seen of Barabas : For they have seiz'd upon thy house and wares. BAR. But they will give me leave once more, I trow, To go into my house.

ABIG. That may they not:

For there I left the governor placing nuns,
Displacing me; and of thy house they mean

To make a nunnery, where none but their own sect
Must enter in; men generally barr'd.

BAR. My gold! my gold! and all my wealth is
gone.

You partial heavens, have I deserv'd this plague?
What will you thus oppose me, luckless stars,
To make me desperate in my poverty?

And knowing me impatient in distress,
Think me so mad as I will hang myself,
That I may vanish o'er the earth in air,
And leave no memory that e'er I was.
life:

X No, I will live; nor loath I this

my

And since you leave me in the ocean thus
To sink or swim, and put me to my shifts,
I'll rouse my senses, and awake myself.
Daughter! I have it: thou perceiv'st the plight
Wherein these Christians have oppressed me:
Be rul'd by me, for in extremity

We ought to make bar of no policy.

ABIG. Father, whate'er it be to injure them

That have so manifestly wronged us,

What will not Abigail attempt?

BAR. Why, so; then thus, thou told'st me they have turn'd my house

Into a nunnery, and some nuns are there.

ABIG. I did.

BAR. Then, Abigail, there must my girl
Intreat the abbess to be entertain'd.

ABIG. How, as a nun?

BAR. Aye, daughter, for religion

Hides many mischiefs from suspicion.

ABIG. Aye, but father they will suspect me there.
BAR. Let 'em suspect, but be thou so precise
As they may think it done of holiness.
Intreat 'em fair, and give them friendly speech,
And seem to them as if thy sins were great,
Till thou hast gotten to be entertain'd.

ABIG. Thus father shall I much dissemble.

BAR. Tush! as good dissemble that thou never mean'st,

As first mean truth and then dissemble it,—

A counterfeit profession is better

Than unseen hypocrisy.

ABIG. Well father, say I be entertain'd,

What then shall follow?

BAR. This shall follow then;

There have I hid close underneath the plank
That runs along the upper chamber floor,
The gold and jewels which I kept for thee.
But here they come; be cunning, Abigail.
ABIG. Then father go with me.

BAR. No, Abigail, in this

It is not necessary I be seen.

For I will seem offended with thee for't.

Be close, my girl, for this must fetch my gold.
Enter three FRIARS and two NUNS.

1 FRI. Sisters, we now are almost at the new-made

nunnery.

I NUN. The better; for we love not to be seen : 'Tis thirty winters long since some of us Did stray so far amongst the multitude.

1 FRI. But, madam, this house

And waters of this new-made nunnery

Will much delight you.

NUN. It may be so; but who comes here?

ABIG. Grave abbess, and you, happy virgins guide,

Pity the state of a distressed maid.

VOL. I.

14

ABB. What art thou daughter?

ABIG. The hopeless daughter of a hapless Jew, The Jew of Malta, wretched Barabas; Sometime the owner of a goodly house,

Which they have now turn'd to a nunnery.

ABB. Well, daughter, say, what is thy suit with us?

ABIG. Fearing the afflictions which my father feels,

Proceed from sin, or want of faith in us,

I'd pass away my life in penitence,

And be a novice in your nunnery,

To make atonement for my labouring soul.

1 FRI. No doubt, brother, but this proceedeth of the spirit.

2 FRI. Aye, and of a moving spirit too, brother but come,

Let us intreat she may be entertain❜d.

ABB. Well, daughter, we admit you for a nun.
ABIG. First let me as a novice learn to frame

My solitary life to your strait laws,

And let me lodge where I was wont to lie,

I do not doubt, by your divine precepts
And mine own industry, but to profit much.

BAR. As much I hope as all I hid is worth. [Aside.
ABB. Come, daughter, follow us.

BAR. Why how now, Abigail, what mak'st thou Amongst these hateful Christians?

1 FRI. Hinder her not, thou man of little faith, For she has mortified herself.