TheStationersRegister

The Works of Christopher Marlowe

The Jew of Malta

Act: 4 Scene: 2

I did.

I did.

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

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.

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.

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.

This is the Gentleman you writ to.

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

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

And you can have it, Sir, and if you please.

And is't not possible to find it out?

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.

Send for a hundred Crownes at least.

Write not so submissively, but threatning him.

Put in two hundred at least.

Tell him you will confesse.

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

Yes.

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.

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.

To conclude, he gave me ten crownes.

Write for five hundred Crownes.

I warrant your worship shall hav't.

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

Act: 4 Scene: 3

Jew, I must ha more gold.

No; but three hundred will not serve his turne.

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

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

I, and the rest too, or else—

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

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

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.

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

Speake, shall I have 'um, Sir?

I know it, Sir.

Soone enough to your cost, Sir:

Fare you well.

Act: 4 Scene: 4

Knavely spoke, and like a Knight at Armes.

What wudst thou doe if he should send thee none?

Oh bravely done.

This shall with me unto the Governor.

Sirra, you must give my mistris your posey.

Foh, me thinkes they stinke like a Holly-Hoke.

There's two crownes for thee, play.

Me thinkes he fingers very well.

How swift he runnes.

His man?

A mastyslave he is.

Whether now, Fidler?

Farewell Fidler: One letter more to the Jew.

Let me alone to urge it now I know the meaning.