The Jew of Malta | Page 9

that thou never mean'st, As first mean truth and then dissemble it: A counterfeit profession is better Than unseen hypocrisy.
ABIGAIL. Well, father, say I be entertain'd, What then shall follow?
BARABAS. This shall follow then. There have I hid, close underneath the plank That runs along the upper-chamber floor, The gold and jewels which I kept for thee:-- But here they come: be cunning, Abigail.
ABIGAIL. Then, father, go with me.
BARABAS. No, Abigail, in this It is not necessary I be seen; For I will seem offended with thee for't: Be close, my girl, for this must fetch my gold. [They retire.]
Enter FRIAR JACOMO,<47> FRIAR BARNARDINE, ABBESS, and a NUN.
FRIAR JACOMO. Sisters, We now are almost at the new-made nunnery.
ABBESS.<48> The better; for we love not to be seen: 'Tis thirty winters long since some of us Did stray so far amongst the multitude.
FRIAR JACOMO. But, madam, this house And waters of this new-made nunnery Will much delight you.
ABBESS. It may be so.--But who comes here?
[ABIGAIL comes forward.]
ABIGAIL. Grave abbess, and you happy virgins' guide, Pity the state of a distressed maid!
ABBESS. What art thou, daughter?
ABIGAIL. The hopeless daughter of a hapless Jew, The Jew of Malta, wretched Barabas, Sometimes<49> the owner of a goodly house, Which they have now turn'd to a nunnery.
ABBESS. Well, daughter, say, what is thy suit with us?
ABIGAIL. Fearing the afflictions which my father feels Proceed from sin or want of faith in us, I'd pass away my life in penitence, And be a novice in your nunnery, To make atonement for my labouring soul.
FRIAR JACOMO. No doubt, brother, but this proceedeth of the spirit.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Ay, and of a moving spirit too, brother: but come, Let us entreat she may be entertain'd.
ABBESS. Well, daughter, we admit you for a nun.
ABIGAIL. First let me as a novice learn to frame My solitary life to your strait laws, And let me lodge where I was wont to lie: I do not doubt, by your divine precepts And mine own industry, but to profit much.
BARABAS. As much, I hope, as all I hid is worth. [Aside.]
ABBESS. Come, daughter, follow us.
BARABAS. [coming forward] Why, how now, Abigail! What mak'st thou 'mongst these hateful Christians?
FRIAR JACOMO. Hinder her not, thou man of little faith, For she has mortified herself.
BARABAS. How! mortified!
FRIAR JACOMO. And is admitted to the sisterhood.
BARABAS. Child of perdition, and thy father's shame! What wilt thou do among these hateful fiends? I charge thee on my blessing that thou leave These devils and their damned heresy!
ABIGAIL. Father, forgive me--<50>
BARABAS. Nay, back, Abigail, And think upon the jewels and the gold; The board is marked thus that covers it.-- [Aside to ABIGAIL in a whisper.] Away, accursed, from thy father's sight!
FRIAR JACOMO. Barabas, although thou art in misbelief, And wilt not see thine own afflictions, Yet let thy daughter be no longer blind.
BARABAS. Blind friar, I reck not thy persuasions,-- The board is marked thus<51> that covers it-- [Aside to ABIGAIL in a whisper.] For I had rather die than see her thus.-- Wilt thou forsake me too in my distress, Seduced daughter?--Go, forget not.--<52> [Aside to her in a whisper.] Becomes it Jews to be so credulous?-- To-morrow early I'll be at the door.-- [Aside to her in a whisper.] No, come not at me; if thou wilt be damn'd, Forget me, see me not; and so, be gone!-- Farewell; remember to-morrow morning.-- [Aside to her in a whisper.] Out, out, thou wretch! [Exit, on one side, BARABAS. Exeunt, on the other side, FRIARS, ABBESS, NUN, and ABIGAIL: and, as they are going out,]
Enter MATHIAS.
MATHIAS. Who's this? fair Abigail, the rich Jew's daughter, Become a nun! her father's sudden fall Has humbled her, and brought her down to this: Tut, she were fitter for a tale of love, Than to be tired out with orisons; And better would she far become a bed, Embraced in a friendly lover's arms, Than rise at midnight to a solemn mass.
Enter LODOWICK.
LODOWICK. Why, how now, Don Mathias! in a dump?
MATHIAS. Believe me, noble Lodowick, I have seen The strangest sight, in my opinion, That ever I beheld.
LODOWICK. What was't, I prithee?
MATHIAS. A fair young maid, scarce fourteen years of age, The sweetest flower in Cytherea's field, Cropt from the pleasures of the fruitful earth, And strangely metamorphos'd [to a] nun.
LODOWICK. But say, what was she?
MATHIAS. Why, the rich Jew's daughter.
LODOWICK. What, Barabas, whose goods were lately seiz'd? Is she so fair?
MATHIAS. And matchless beautiful, As, had you seen her, 'twould have mov'd your heart, Though countermin'd with walls of brass, to love, Or, at the least, to pity.
LODOWICK. An if she be so fair as you report, 'Twere time well spent to go and visit her: How say you? shall we?
MATHIAS. I must and will, sir; there's no remedy.
LODOWICK. And so will I