To make me show them favour severally, That by my favour they should both be slain?

Admit thou lov'dst not Lodowick for his sire,[89]

Yet Don Mathias ne'er offended thee: But thou wert set upon extreme revenge, Because the Prior[90] dispossessed thee once, And could'st not 'venge it, but upon his son; 50 Nor on his son, but by Mathias' means; Nor on Mathias, but by murdering me.

But I perceive there is no love on earth, Pity in Jews, or piety in Turks.

But here comes cursed Ithamore, with the friar.

_Enter_ ITHAMORE _and_ FRIAR JACOMO.

_F. Jac._ _Virgo, salve._

_Itha._ When! duck you![91]

_Abig._ Welcome, grave friar; Ithamore begone.

[_Exit_ ITHAMORE.

Know, holy sir, I am bold to solicit thee.

_F. Jac._ Wherein? 60

_Abig._ To get me be admitted for a nun.

_F. Jac._ Why, Abigail, it is not yet long since That I did labour thy admission, And then thou did'st not like that holy life.

_Abig._ Then were my thoughts so frail and unconfirmed, And I was chained to follies of the world: But now experience, purchased with grief, Has made me see the difference of things.

My sinful soul, alas, hath paced too long The fatal labyrinth of misbelief, 70 Far from the sun that gives eternal life.

_F. Jac._ Who taught thee this?

_Abig._ The abbess of the house, Whose zealous admonition I embrace: O, therefore, Jacomo, let me be one, Although unworthy, of that sisterhood.

_F. Jac._ Abigail, I will, but see thou change no more, For that will be most heavy to thy soul.

_Abig._ That was my father's fault.

_F. Jac._ Thy father's! how? 80

_Abig._ Nay, you shall pardon me.--O Barabas, Though thou deservest hardly at my hands, Yet never shall these lips bewray thy life. [_Aside._

_F. Jac._ Come, shall we go?

_Abig._ My duty waits on you.

[_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.

_Enter_[92] BARABAS, _reading a letter._

_Bar._ What, Abigail become a nun again!

False and unkind; what, hast thou lost thy father?

And all unknown, and unconstrained of me, Art thou again got to the nunnery?

Now here she writes, and wills me to repent.

Repentance! _Spurca!_ what pretendeth[93] this?

I fear she knows--'tis so--of my device In Don Mathias' and Lodovico's deaths: If so, 'tis time that it be seen into: For she that varies from me in belief 10 Gives great presumption that she loves me not; Or loving, doth dislike of something done.

But who comes here?

_Enter_ ITHAMORE.

O Ithamore, come near; Come near, my love; come near, thy master's life, My trusty servant, nay, my second self:[94]

For I have now no hope but even in thee: And on that hope my happiness is built; When saw'st thou Abigail?

_Itha._ To-day.

_Bar._ With whom? 20

_Itha._ A friar.

_Bar._ A friar! false villain, he hath done the deed.

_Itha._ How, sir?

_Bar._ Why, made mine Abigail a nun.

_Itha._ That's no lie, for she sent me for him.

_Bar._ O unhappy day!

False, credulous, inconstant Abigail!

But let 'em go: and, Ithamore, from hence Ne'er shall she grieve me more with her disgrace; Ne'er shall she live to inherit aught of mine, 30 Be blest of me, nor come within my gates, But perish underneath my bitter curse, Like Cain by Adam, for his brother's death.

_Itha._ O master!

_Bar._ Ithamore, entreat not for her, I am moved, And she is hateful to my soul and me: And 'less[95] thou yield to this that I entreat, I cannot think but that thou hat'st my life.

_Itha._ Who, I, master? Why, I'll run to some rock, And throw myself headlong into the sea; 40 Why, I'll do anything for your sweet sake.

_Bar._ O trusty Ithamore, no servant, but my friend: I here adopt thee for mine only heir, All that I have is thine when I am dead, And whilst I live use half; spend as myself; Here take my keys, I'll give 'em thee anon: Go buy thee garments: but thou shall not want: Only know this, that thus thou art to do: But first go fetch me in the pot of rice That for our supper stands upon the fire. 50

_Itha._ I hold my head my master's hungry. I go, sir. [_Exit._

_Bar._ Thus every villain ambles after wealth, Although he ne'er be richer than in hope: But, husht!

_Enter_ ITHAMORE _with the pot._

_Itha._ Here 'tis, master.

_Bar._ Well said, Ithamore; what, hast thou brought The ladle with thee too?

_Itha._ Yes, sir, the proverb says he that eats with the devil had need of a long spoon.[96] I have brought you a ladle. 60

_Bar._ Very well, Ithamore, then now be secret; And for thy sake, whom I so dearly love, Now shalt thou see the death of Abigail, That thou may'st freely live to be my heir.