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Act Four, Scene Three

Enter Barabas, reading a letter.

Barabas send me three hundred Crownes.
Plaine Barabas: oh that wicked Curtezane!
He was not wont to call me Barabas.
Or else I will confesse: I, there it goes:
But if I get him,Coupe de Gorgefor that.
He sent a shaggy totter'd staring slave,
That when he speakes, drawes out his grisly beard,
And winds it twice or thrice about his eare;
Whose face has bin a grind-stone for mens swords,
His hands are hacks, some fingers cut quite off;
Who when he speakes, grunts like a hog, and looks
Like one that is imploy'd in Catzerie
And crosbiting
, such a Rogue
As is the husband to a hundred whores:
And I by him must send three hundred crownes.
Well, my hope is, he will not stay there still;
And when he comes: oh that he were but here!
Enter Pilia-borza.

Jew, I must ha more gold.

Why, wantst thou any of thy tale?

No; but three hundred will not serve his turne.

Not serve his turne, Sir?

No Sir; and therefore I must have five hundred more.

I'le rather—

Oh good words, Sir, and send it you, weere best se;
there's his letter.

Might he not as well come as send; pray bid him come
and fetch it: what tree writes for you, ye shall have streight.

I, and the rest too, or else—

I must make this villaine away: please you dine with me,
Sir, and you shal be most hartily poyson'd.


No god-a-mercy, shall I have these crownes?

I cannot doe it, I have lost my keyes.

Oh, if that be all, I can picke ope your locks.

Or climbe up to my Counting-house window: you know
my meaning.

I know enough, and therfore talke not to me of your
Counting-house: the gold, or know Jew it is in my power to
hang thee.

I am betraid.—
'Tis not five hundred Crownes that I esteeme,
I am not mov'd at that: this angers me,
That he who knowes I love him as my selfe
Should write in this imperious vaine! why Sir,
You know I have no childe, and unto whom
Should I leave all but unto Ithimore?

Here's many words but no crownes; the crownes.

Commend me to him, Sir, most humbly,
And unto your good mistris as unknowne.

Speake, shall I have 'um, Sir?

Sir, here they are.
Oh that I should part with so much gold!
Here take 'em, fellow, with as good a will—
As I wud see thee hang'd; oh, love stops my breath:
Never lov'd man servant as I doe Ithimore.

I know it, Sir.

Pray when, Sir, shall I see you at my house?

Soone enough to your cost, Sir:

Fare you well.

to thine owne cost, villaine, if thou com'st.
Was ever Jew tormented as I am?
To have a shag-rag knave to come demand
Three hundred Crownes, and then five hundred Crownes?
Well, I must seeke a meanes to rid 'em all,
And presently: for in his villany
He will tell all he knowes and I shall dye for't.
I have it.
I will in some disguize goe see the slave,
And how the villaine revels with my gold.

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