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Act Four, Scene Two

Enter Curtezane, and Pilia- borza.


Curtezane
Pilia-borza, didst thou meet with Ithimore?


Pilia-borza
I did.


Curtezane
And didst thou deliver my letter?


Pilia-borza
I did.


Curtezane
And what think'st thou, will he come?


Pilia-borza
I think so, and yet I cannot tell, for at the reading
of the letter, he look'd like a man of another world.


Curtezane
Why so?


Pilia-borza
That such a base slave as he should be saluted by
such a tall man as I am, from such a beautifull dame as you.


Curtezane
And what said he?


Pilia-borza
Not a wise word, only gave me a nod, as who shold
say, Is it even so; and so I left him, being driven to a non- plus at
the critical aspect of my terrible countenance.


Curtezane
And where didst meet him?


Pilia-borza
Upon mine owne free hold within fortie foot of the
gallowes, conning his neck-verse I take it, looking of a Fryars
Execution, whom I saluted with an old hempen proverb, Hodie
tibi, cras mihi, and so I left him to the mercy of the Hangman:
but the Exercise being done, see where he comes.

Enter Ithimore.


Ithimore
I never knew a man take his death so patiently as this
Fryar: he was ready to leape off e're the halter was about his
necke; and when the Hangman had put on his hempen Tippet,
he made such haste to his prayers, as if hee had had another
Cure to serve; well, goe whither he will, I'le be none of his
followers in haste:
And now I thinke on's, going to the execution, a fellow met me
with a muschatoes like a Ravens wing, and a Dagger with a
hilt like a warming-pan, and he gave me a letter from one
Madam Bellamira, saluting me in such sort as if he had meant to
make cleane my Boots with his lips; the effect was, that I should
come to her house. I wonder what the reason is. It may be she
sees more in me than I can find in my selfe: for she writes further,
that she loves me ever since she saw me, and who would not
requite such love? here's her house, and here she comes, and now
would I were gone, I am not worthy to looke upon her.


Pilia-borza
This is the Gentleman you writ to.


Ithimore
Gentleman, he flouts me, what gentry can be in a
pooreTurke of ten pence? I'le be gone. [Aside.]


Curtezane
Is't not a sweet fac'd youth, Pilia?


Ithimore
Agen, sweet youth; did not you, Sir, bring the sweet
youth a letter?


Pilia-borza
I did Sir, and from this Gentlewoman, who as my
selfe, and the rest of the family, stand or fall at your service.


Curtezane
Though womans modesty should hale me backe,
I can with-hold no longer; welcome sweet love.

[Kisse him.]


Ithimore
Now am I cleane, or rather fouly out of the way.

[Aside.]


Curtezane
Whither so soone?


Ithimore
I'le goe steale some mony from my Master to make
me hansome: [Aside.]
Pray pardon me, I must goe see a ship discharg'd.


Curtezane
Canst thou be so unkind to leave me thus?


Pilia-borza
And ye did but know how she loves you, Sir.


Ithimore
Nay, I care not how much she loves me;

Sweet Bellamira, would I had my Masters wealth for thy sake.


Pilia-borza
And you can have it, Sir, and if you please.


Ithimore
If 'twere above ground I could, and would have it; but
tree hides and buries it up as Partridges doe their egges, under the
earth.


Pilia-borza
And is't not possible to find it out?


Ithimore
By no meanes possible.

Curtezane
What shall we doe with this base villaine then?
[Aside to Pilia-borza.]

Pilia-borza
Let me alone, doe but you speake him faire:
But you know some secrets of the Jew,
Which if they were reveal'd, would doe him harme.

Ithimore
I, and such as— Goe to, no more,
I'le make him send me half he has, and glad he scapes so too.
Pen and Inke:
I'le write unto him, we're have mony strait.

Pilia-borza
Send for a hundred Crownes at least.


Ithimore
Ten hundred thousand crownes, Master Barabas.

He writes

Pilia-borza
Write not so submissively, but threatning him.

Ithimore
Sirra Barabas, send me a hundred crownes.


Pilia-borza
Put in two hundred at least.


Ithimore
I charge thee send me three hundredby this bearer, and
this shall be your warrant; if you doe not, no more but so.


Pilia-borza
Tell him you will confesse.


Ithimore
Otherwise I'le confesse all:—

Vanish and returne in a twinckle.


Pilia-borza
Let me alone, I'le use him in his kinde.

[Exit.]


Ithimore
Hang him, Jew.

Curtezane
Now, gentle Ithimore, lye in my lap.
Where are my Maids? provide a running Banquet;
Send to the Merchant, bid him bring me silkes,
Shall Ithimore my love goe in such rags?

Ithimore
And bid the Jeweller come hither too.

Curtezane
I have no husband, sweet, I'le marry thee.

Ithimore
Content, but we will leave this paltry land,
And saile from hence to Greece, to lovely Greece,
I'le be thy Jason, thou my golden Fleece;
Where painted Carpets o're the meads are hurl'd,
And Bacchus vineyards over-spread the world:
Where Woods and Forrests goe in goodly greene,
I'le be Adonis, thou shalt be Loves Queene.
The Meads, the Orchards, and the Primrose lanes,
Instead of Sedge and Reed, beare Sugar Canes:
Thou in those Groves, by Dis above,
Shalt live with me and be my love.

Curtezane
Whither will I not goe with gentle Ithimore?
Enter Pilea-borza.

Ithimore
How now? hast thou the gold?


Pilia-borza
Yes.

[Gives him bag.]


Ithimore
But came it freely, did the Cow give down her milk
freely?


Pilia-borza
At reading of the letter, he star'd and stamp'd, and
turnd aside. I tooke him by the beard, and look'd upon him thus;
told him he were best to send it; then he hug'd and imbrac'd me.


Ithimore
Rather for feare then love.


Pilia-borza
Then like a Jew he laugh'd and jeer'd, and told me
he lov'd me for your sake, and said what a faithfull servant you
had bin.


Ithimore
The more villaine he to keep me thus:

Here's goodly 'parrell, is there not?


Pilia-borza
To conclude, he gave me ten crownes.


Ithimore
But ten? I'le not leave him worth a gray groat. Give me
a Reame of paper, we'll have a kingdome of gold for't.


Pilia-borza
Write for five hundred Crownes.


Ithimore
Sirra Jew, as you love your life send me five hundred
crowns, and give the Bearer one hundred. Tell him I must hav't.


Pilia-borza
I warrant your worship shall hav't.


Ithimore
And if he aske why I demand so much, tell him, I
scorne to write a line under a hundred crownes.


Pilia-borza
You'd make a rich Poet, Sir. I am gone.

Exit.


Ithimore
Take thou the mony, spend it for my sake.


Curtezane
Tis not thy mony, but thy selfe I weigh:
Thus Bellamira esteemes of gold; [Throw it aside.]
But thus of thee

Kisse him.


Ithimore
That kisse againe; she runs division of my lips. What
an eye she casts on me? It twinckles like a Starre.

Curtezane
Come my deare love, let's in and sleepe together.


Ithimore
Oh that ten thousand nights were put in one,
That wee might sleepe seven yeeres together aforewe wake.

Curtezane
Come Amorous wag, first banquet and then sleep.
[Exeunt.]

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