The Jew of Malta.
No simple place, no small authority,
I now am Governour of Malta; true,
But Malta hates me, and in hating me
My life's in danger, and what boots it thee
Poore Barabas, to be the Governour,
When as thy life shall be at their command?
No, Barabas, this must be look'd into;
And since by wrong thou got'st Authority,
Maintaine it bravely by firme policy,
At least unprofitably lose it not:
For he that liveth in Authority,
And neither gets him friends, nor fils his bags,
Lives like the Asse that Æsope speaketh of,
That labours with a load of bread and wine,
And leaves it off to snap on Thistle tops:
But Barabas will be more circumspect.
Begin betimes, Occasion's bald behind,
Slip not thine oportunity, for feare too late
Thou seek'st for much, but canst not compasse it
Within here.
Enter Governor with a guard.
Gov.
My Lord?
Bar.
I, Lord, thus slaves will learne.
Now Governor stand by there, wait within,
This is the reason that I sent for thee;
Thou seest thy life, and Malta's happinesse,
Are at my Arbitrament; and Barabas
At his discretion may dispose of both:
Now tell me, Governor, and plainely too,
What thinkst thou shall become of it and thee?
Gov.
This; Barabas, since things are in thy power,
I see no reason but of Malta's wracke,
Nor hope of thee but extreme cruelty,
Nor feare I death, nor will I flatter thee.
Bar.
Governor, good words, be not so furious;
'Tis not thy life which can availe me ought,
Yet you doe live, and live for me you shall:
And
