Act 4 — [Scene V.][570]
Reading edition
[Scene V.][570]
Enter Barabas, reading a letter.
Bar. “Barabas, send me three hundred crowns.—” Plain Barabas! O, that wicked courtesan! He was not wont to call me Barabas. “Or else I will confess:” ay, there it goes: But, if I get him, coupe de gorge for that.5 He sent a shaggy totter’d[571] staring slave, That when he speaks draws out his grisly beard, And winds it twice or thrice about his ear; Whose face has been a grindstone for men’s swords; His hands are hack’d, some fingers cut quite off;10 Who, when he speaks, grunts like a hog, and looks Like one that is employ’d in catzerie[572] And crossbiting.[573]—such a rogue As is the husband to a hundred whores: And I by him must send three hundred crowns! Well, my hope is, he will not stay there still;15 And when he comes,—O, that he were but here!
Enter Pilia-Borsa.
Pilia. Jew, I must ha’ more gold.
Bar. Why, want’st thou any of thy tale?[574]
Pilia. No; but three hundred will not serve his turn. 21
Bar. Not serve his turn, sir?
Pilia. No, sir; and, therefore, I must have five hundred more.
Bar. I’ll rather—— 25
Pilia. O good words, sir, and send it you were hest! See, there’s his letter. [Gives letter.]
Bar. Might he not as well come as send? Pray bid him come and fetch it; what he writes for you, ye shall have straight. 30
Pilia. Ay, and the rest too, or else——
Bar. [Aside.] I must make this villain away.—Please you dine with me, sir;—and you shall be most heartily poison’d.
Aside.
Pilia. No, God-a-mercy. Shall I have these crowns? 35
Bar. I cannot do it. I have lost my keys.
Pilia. O, if that be all, I can pick ope your locks.
Bar. Or climb up to my counting-house window: you know my meaning.
Pilia. I know enough, and therefore talk not to me of your counting-house. The gold! or 41 know, Jew, it is in my power to hang thee.
Bar. [Aside.] I am betray’d.— ’T is not five hundred crowns that I esteem, I am not mov’d at that: this angers me, 45 That he, who knows I love him as myself, Should write in this imperious vein. Why, sir, You know I have no child, and unto whom Should I leave all but unto Ithamore?
Pilia. Here’s many words, but no crowns. The crowns! 50
Bar. Commend me to him, sir, most humbly, And unto your good mistress, as unknown. Pilia. Speak, shall I have ’em, sir? Bar. Sir, here they are.— [Gives money.] O, that I should part with so much gold!— Here, take ’em, fellow, with as good a will—— [Aside], As I would see thee hang’d.—O, love stops my breath: 56 Never lov’d man servant as I do Ithamore! Pilia. I know it, sir. Bar. Pray, when, sir, shall I see you at my house? Pilia. Soon enough, to your cost, sir. Fare you well. 60 Exit. Bar. Nay, to thine own cost, villain, if thou com’st! Was ever Jew tormented as I am? To have a shag-rag knave to come,— Three hundred crowns,—and then five hundred crowns! Well, I must seek a means to rid ’em all, 65 And presently: for in his villany He will tell all he knows, and I shall die for’t. I have it: I will in some disguise go see the slave, 69 And how the villain revels with my gold. Exit.