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, And rend their hearts with tearing of my hair. Be silent, daughter, sufferance breeds ease, Which on the sudden cannot serve the turn. 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, To make a nunnery, where none but their own sect BAR. My gold! my gold! and all my wealth is You partial heavens, have I deserv'd this plague? And knowing me impatient in distress, X No, I will live; nor loath I this my And since you leave me in the ocean thus 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 ABIG. How, as a nun? BAR. Aye, daughter, for religion Hides many mischiefs from suspicion. ABIG. Aye, but father they will suspect me there. 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 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. 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. 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 BAR. As much I hope as all I hid is worth. [Aside. 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. |