TheStationersRegister

The Works of Christopher Marlowe

The Jew of Malta

Act: 2 Scene: 1<<

Enter Barabas with a light.

Thus like the sad presaging Raven that tolls

The sicke mans passeport in her hollow beake,

And in the shadow of the silent night

Doth shake contagion from her sable wings;

Vex'd and tormented runnes poore Barabas

With fatall curses towards these Christians.

The incertaine pleasures of swift-footed time

Have tane their flight, and left me in despaire;

And of my former riches rests no more

But bare remembrance; like a souldiers skarre,

That has no further comfort for his maime.

Oh thou that with a fiery piller led'st

The sonnes of Israel through the dismall shades,

Light Abrahams off-spring; and direct the hand

Of Abigall this night; or let the day

Turne to eternall darkenesse after this:

No sleepe can fasten on my watchfull eyes,

Nor quiet enter my distemper'd thoughts,

Till I have answer of my Abigall.

Enter Abigall above.

Now have I happily espy'd a time

To search the plancke my father did appoint;

And here behold (unseene) where I have found

The gold, the perles, and Jewels which he hid.

Now I remember those old womens words,

Who in my wealth wud tell me winters tales,

And speake of spirits and ghosts that glide by night

About the place where Treasure hath bin hid:

And now me thinkes that I am one of those:

For whilst I live, here lives my soules sole hope,

And when I dye, here shall my spirit walke.

Now that my fathers fortune were so good

As but to be about this happy place;

'Tis not so happy: yet when we parted last,

He said he wud attend me in the morne.

Then, gentle sleepe, where e're his bodie rests,

Give charge to Morpheus that he may dreame

A golden dreame, and of the sudden walke,

Come and receive the Treasure I have found.

Bien para todos mi ganado no es:

As good goe on, as sit so sadly thus.

But stay, what starre shines yonder in the East?

The Loadstarre of my life, if Abigall.

Who's there?

Who's that?

Peace, Abigal, 'tis I.

Then father here receive thy happinesse.

Hast thou't?

Here,

Throwes downe bags.

Hast thou't?

There's more, and more, and more.

Oh my girle,

My gold, my fortune, my felicity;

Strength to my soule, death to mine enemy;

Welcome the first beginner of my blisse:

Oh Abigal Abigal, that I had thee here too,

Then my desires were fully satisfied,

But I will practice thy enlargement thence:

Oh girle, oh gold, oh beauty, oh my blisse!

Hugs his bags.

Father, it draweth towards midnight now,

And 'bout this time the Nuns begin to wake;

To shun suspition, therefore, let us part.

Farewell my joy, and by my fingers take

A kisse from him that sends it from his soule.

Now Phoebus ope the eye-lids of the day,

And for the Raven wake the morning Larke,

That I may hover with her in the Ayre,

Singing ore these, as she does ore her young.

Hermoso Placer de los Dineros.

Exeunt.

Nav.

Nav.