der the elder when he
hanged himself. [176]

BARABAS. 'Twas sent me for a present from the Great Cham.
[Aside.]

PILIA-BORZA. A nasty [177] slave he is.--Whither now, fiddler?

BARABAS. Pardonnez moi, monsieur; me [178] be no well.

PILIA-BORZA. Farewell, fiddler [Exit BARABAS.] One letter more
to the Jew.

BELLAMIRA. Prithee, sweet love, one more, and write it sharp.

ITHAMORE. No, I'll send by word of mouth now.
--Bid him deliver thee a thousand crowns, by the same token
that the nuns loved rice, that Friar Barnardine slept in his
own clothes; any of 'em will do it.

PILIA-BORZA. Let me alone to urge it, now I know the meaning.

ITHAMORE. The meaning has a meaning. Come, let's in:
To undo a Jew is charity, and not sin.
[Exeunt.]

ACT V.

Enter FERNEZE, [179] KNIGHTS, MARTIN DEL BOSCO, and OFFICERS.

FERNEZE. Now, gentlemen, betake you to your arms,
And see that Malta be well fortified;
And it behoves you to be resolute;
For Calymath, having hover'd here so long,
Will win the town, or die before the walls.

FIRST KNIGHT. And die he shall; for we will never yield.

Enter BELLAMIRA and PILIA-BORZA.

BELLAMIRA. O, bring us to the governor!

FERNEZE. Away with her! she is a courtezan.

BELLAMIRA. Whate'er I am, yet, governor, hear me speak:
I bring thee news by whom thy son was slain:
Mathias did it not; it was the Jew.

PILIA-BORZA. Who, besides the slaughter of these gentlemen,
Poison'd his own daughter and the nuns,
Strangled a friar, and I know not what
Mischief beside.

FERNEZE. Had we but proof of this----

BELLAMIRA. Strong proof, my lord: his man's now at my lodging,
That was his agent; he'll confess it all.

FERNEZE. Go fetch him [180] straight [Exeunt OFFICERS].
I always fear'd that Jew.

Re-enter OFFICERS with BARABAS and ITHAMORE.

BARABAS. I'll go alone; dogs, do not hale me thus.

ITHAMORE.
Nor me neither; I cannot out-run you, constable.--O, my belly!

BARABAS. One dram of powder more had made all sure:
What a damn'd slave was I!
[Aside.]

FERNEZE. Make fires, heat irons, let the rack be fetch'd.

FIRST KNIGHT. Nay, stay, my lord; 't may be he will confess.

BARABAS. Confess! what mean you, lords?