The Jew of Malta.
'Tis not 500 Crownes that I esteeme,
I am not mov'd at that: this angers me,
That he who knowes I love him as my selfe
Should write in this imperious vaine? why Sir,
You know I have no childe, and unto whom
Should I leave all but unto Ithimore?
Pil.
Here's many words but no crownes; the crownes.
Bar.
Commend me to him, Sir, most humbly,
And unto your good mistris as unknowne.
Pil.
Speake, shall I have 'um, Sir?
Bar.
Sir here they are.
Oh that I should part with so much gold!
Here take 'em, fellow, with as good a will———
———As I wud see thee hang'd; oh, love stops my breath:
Never lov'd man servant as I doe Ithimore.
Pil.
I know it, Sir.
Bar.
Pray when, Sir, shall I see you at my house?
Pil.
Soone enough to your cost, Sir:
Fare you well.Exit.
Bar.
Nay to thine owne cost, villaine, if thou com'st.
Was ever Jew tormented as I am?
To have a shag-rag knave to come
300 Crownes, and then 500 Crownes?
Well, I must seeke a meanes to rid 'em all,
And presently: for in his villany
He will tell all he knowes and I shall dye for't. I have it.
I will in some disguize goe see the slave,
And how the villaine revels with my gold.Exit.
Enter Curtezane. Ithimore. Pilia-borza.
Curt.
I'le pledge thee, love, and therefore drinke it off.
Ith.
Saist thou me so? have at it; and doe you heare?
Curt.
Goe to, it shall be so.
Ith.
Of that condition I wil drink it up; here's to thee.
Pil.
Nay, I'le have all or none.
Ith.
There, if thou lov'st me doe not leave a drop.
Curt.
Love thee, fill me three glasses.
Ith.
Three and fifty dozen, I'le pledge thee,
Pil.
