Page:The Jew of Malta - Marlowe (1633).pdf/72

 Pardona moy, be no in tune yet; so now, now all be in.

Ith. Give him a crowne, and fill me out more wine.

Pil. There's two crownes for thee, play.

Bar. How liberally the villain gives me mine own gold.

Pil. Me thinkes he fingers very well.

Bar. So did you when you stole my gold.

Pil. How swift he runnes.

Bar. You run swifter when yon threw my gold out of My Window.

Curt. Musician, hast beene in Malta long?

Bar. Two, three, foure month Madam.

Ith. Dost not know a Jew, one Barabas?

Bar. Very mush, Mounsier, you no be his man.

Pil. His man?

Ith. I scorne the Peasant, tell him so.

Bar. He knowes it already.

Ith. 'Tis a strange thing of that Jew, he lives upon Pickled Grashoppers, and sauc'd Mushrumbs.

Bar. What a slave's this? The Governor feeds not as I doe.

Ith. He never put on cleane shirt since he was circumcis'd

Bar. Oh raskall! I change my selfe twice a day.

Ith. The Hat he weares, Judas left under the Elder When he hang'd himselfe.

Bar. 'Twas sent me for a present from the great Cham.

Pil. A masty slave he is; Whether now, Fidler?

Bar. Pardona moy, Mounsier, we be no well.

Pil. Farewell Fidler: One letter more to the Jew.

Curt. Prethe sweet love, one more, and write it sharp.

Ith. No, I'le send by word of mouth now; Bid him deliver thee a thousand Crownes, by the same Token, that the Nuns lov'd Rice, that Fryar Bernadine Slept in his owne clothes, Any of 'em will doe it.