The Jew of Malta.
He was not wont to call me Barabas.
Or else I will confesse: I, there it goes:
But if I get him Coupe de Gorge, for that
He sent a shaggy totter'd staring slave,
That when he speakes, drawes out his grisly beard,
And winds it twice or thrice about his eare;
Whose face has bin a grind-stone for mens swords,
His hands are hackt, some fingers cut quite off;
Who when he speakes, grunts like a hog, and looks
Like one that is imploy'd in Catzerie,
And crosbiting such a Rogue
As is the husband to a hundred whores:
And I by him must send three hundred crownes.
Well, my hope is, he will not stay there still;
And when he comes: Oh that he were but here!
Enter Pilia-borza.
Pil.
Jew, I must ha more gold.
Bar.
Why wantst thou any of thy tale?
Pil.
No; but 300 will not serve his turne.
Bar.
Not serue his turne, Sir?
Pil.
No Sir; and therefore I must have 500 more.
Bar.
I'le rather ———
Pil.
Oh good words, Sir, and send it you were best, see,
There's his letter.
Bar.
Might he not as well come as send; pray bid him
Come & fetch it, what hee writes for you, ye shall have streight.
Pil.
I, and the rest too, or else ———
Bar.
I must make this villaine away: please you dine
With me, Sir, & you shal be most hartily poyson'd.aside.
Pil.
No god-a-mercy, shall I have these crownes?
Bar.
I cannot doe it, I have lost my keyes.
Pil.
Oh, if that be all, I can picke ope your locks.
Bar.
Or climbe up to my Counting-house window:
You know my meaning.
Pil.
I know enough, and therfore talke not to me of your
Counting-house, the gold, or know Jew it is in my power to hang thee.
Bar.
I am betraid.
'Tis
