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The Works of Christopher Marlowe

Act: 3 Scene: 5

Welcome, great Bashaw, how fares Callymath, what wind drives you thus into Malta rhode?

Desire of gold, great Sir?

That's to be gotten in the Westerne Inde:

In Malta are no golden Minerals.

Bashaw, in briefe, shalt have no tribute here,

Nor shall the Heathens live upon our spoyle:

First will we race the City wals our selves,

Lay waste the Iland, hew the Temples downe,

And shipping of our goods to Sicily,

Open an entrance for the wastfull sea,

Whose billowes beating the resistlesse bankes,

Shall overflow it with their refluence.

Farewell:

And now you men of Malta looke about,

And let's provide to welcome Calymath:

Close your Port-cullise, charge your Basiliskes,

And as you profitably take up Armes,

So now couragiously encounter them;

For by this Answer, broken is the league,

And nought is to be look'd for now but warres,

And nought to us more welcome is then wars.