The Works of Christopher Marlowe Volume II Part 13

_Itha._ Why, master, will you poison her with a mess of rice porridge? that will preserve life, make her round and plump, and batten more than you are aware.

_Bar._ I, but, Ithamore, seest thou this?

It is a precious powder that I bought Of an Italian, in Ancona, once, 70 Whose operation is to bind, infect, And poison deeply, yet not appear In forty hours after it is ta'en.

_Itha._ How, master?

_Bar._ Thus, Ithamore.

This even they use in Malta here,--'tis called Saint Jacques' Even,--and then I say they use To send their alms unto the nunneries: Among the rest bear this, and set it there; There's a dark entry where they take it in, 80 Where they must neither see the messenger, Nor make inquiry who hath sent it them.

_Itha._ How so?

_Bar._ Belike there is some ceremony in't.

There, Ithamore, must thou go place this pot![97]

Stay, let me spice it first.

_Itha._ Pray do, and let me help you, master. Pray let me taste first.

_Bar._ Prythee do: what say'st thou now?

_Itha._ Troth, master, I'm loth such a pot of pottage should be spoiled. 90

_Bar._ Peace, Ithamore, 'tis better so than spared.

a.s.sure thyself thou shalt have broth by the eye.[98]

My purse, my coffer, and myself is thine.

_Itha._ Well, master, I go.

_Bar._ Stay, first let me stir it, Ithamore.

As fatal be it to her as the draught Of which great Alexander drunk and died: And with her let it work like Borgia's wine, Whereof his sire, the Pope, was poisoned.

In few,[99] the blood of Hydra, Lerna's bane: 100 The juice of hebon,[100] and Cocytus' breath, And all the poisons of the Stygian pool Break from the fiery kingdom; and in this Vomit your venom and invenom her That like a fiend hath left her father thus.

_Itha._ What a blessing has he given 't! was ever pot of rice porridge so sauced! What shall I do with it?

_Bar._ O, my sweet Ithamore, go set it down, And come again so soon as thou hast done, For I have other business for thee. 110

_Itha._ Here's a drench to poison a whole stable of Flanders mares: I'll carry 't to the nuns with a powder.

_Bar._ And the horse pestilence to boot; away.

_Itha._ I am gone.

Pay me my wages, for my work is done. [_Exit._

_Bar._ I'll pay thee with a vengeance, Ithamore. [_Exit._

SCENE V.

_Enter_[101] Governor, DEL BOSCO, Knights, Ba.s.so.

_Gov._ Welcome, great Ba.s.so;[102] how fares Calymath, What wind thus drives you into Malta Road?

_Bas._ The wind that bloweth all the world besides, Desire of gold.

_Gov._ Desire of gold, great sir?

That's to be gotten in the Western Ind: In Malta are no golden minerals.

_Bas._ To you of Malta thus saith Calymath: The time you took for respite is at hand, For the performance of your promise pa.s.sed, And for the tribute-money I am sent. 10

_Gov._ Ba.s.so, in brief, 'shalt have no tribute here, Nor shall the heathens live upon our spoil: First will we raze the city walls ourselves, Lay waste the island, hew the temples down, And, s.h.i.+pping off our goods to Sicily, Open an entrance for the wasteful sea, Whose billows beating the resistless banks, Shall overflow it with their refluence.

_Bas._ Well, Governor, since thou hast broke the league By flat denial of the promised tribute, 20 Talk not of razing down your city walls, You shall not need trouble yourselves so far, For Selim Calymath shall come himself, And with bra.s.s bullets batter down your towers, And turn proud Malta to a wilderness For these intolerable wrongs of yours; And so farewell.

_Gov._ Farewell: And now, ye men of Malta, look about, And let's provide to welcome Calymath: 30 Close your portcullis, charge your basilisks, And as you profitably take up arms, So now courageously encounter them; For by this answer, broken is the league, And naught is to be looked for now but wars, And naught to us more welcome is than wars.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE VI.

_Enter_[103] Friar JACOMO _and_ Friar BARNARDINE.

_F. Jac._ O brother, brother, all the nuns are sick, And physic will not help them: they must die.

_F. Barn._ The abbess sent for me to be confessed: O, what a sad confession will there be!

_F. Jac._ And so did fair Maria send for me: I'll to her lodging: hereabouts she lies. [_Exit._

_Enter_ ABIGAIL.

_F. Barn._ What, all dead, save only Abigail?

_Abig._ And I shall die too, for I feel death coming.

Where is the friar that conversed with me.

_F. Barn._ O, he is gone to see the other nuns. 10

_Abig._ I sent for him, but seeing you are come, Be you my ghostly father: and first know, That in this house I lived religiously, Chaste, and devout, much sorrowing for my sins, But ere I came----

_F. Barn._ What then?

_Abig._ I did offend high Heaven so grievously, As I am almost desperate for my sins: And one offence torments me more than all.

You knew Mathias and Don Lodowick? 20

_F. Barn._ Yes, what of them?

_Abig._ My father did contract me to 'em both: First to Don Lodowick; him I never loved; Mathias was the man that I held dear, And for his sake did I become a nun.

_F. Barn._ So, say how was their end?

_Abig._ Both jealous of my love, envied each other, And by my father's practice, which is there [_Gives a paper._ Set down at large, the gallants were both slain.