The Jew of Malta, стр. 6

Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls
The sick man’s passport in her hollow beak,
And in the shadow of the silent night
Doth shake contagion from her sable wings,
Vexed and tormented runs poor Barabas
With fatal curses towards these Christians.
The incertain pleasures of swift-footed time
Have ta’en their flight, and left me in despair;
And of my former riches rests no more
But bare remembrance; like a soldier’s scar,
That has no further comfort for his maim.⁠—
O thou, that with a fiery pillar led’st
The sons of Israel through the dismal shades,
Light Abraham’s offspring; and direct the hand
Of Abigail this night! or let the day
Turn to eternal darkness after this!
No sleep can fasten on my watchful eyes,
Nor quiet enter my distempered thoughts,
Till I have answer of my Abigail.

Now have I happily espied a time
To search the plank my father did appoint;
And here, behold, unseen, where I have found
The gold, the pearls, and jewels, which he hid.

Now I remember those old women’s words,
Who in my wealth would tell me winter’s tales,
And speak of spirits and ghosts that glide by night
About the place where treasure hath been hid:
And now methinks that I am one of those:
For, whilst I live, here lives my soul’s sole hope,
And, when I die, here shall my spirit walk.

Now that my father’s fortune were so good
As but to be about this happy place;
’Tis not so happy: yet, when we parted last,
He said he would attend me in the morn.
Then, gentle sleep, where’er his body rests,
Give charge to Morpheus that he may dream
A golden dream, and of the sudden wake,
Come and receive the treasure I have found.

Bueno para todos mi ganado no era:
As good go on as sit so sadly thus.
But stay: what star shines yonder in the east?
The loadstar of my life, if Abigail.
Who’s there?

Who’s that?

Peace, Abigail, ’tis I.

Then, father, here receive thy happiness.

Hast thou’t?

Here, Throws down bags. hast thou’t?
There’s more, and more, and more.

O my girl,
My gold, my fortune, my felicity!
Strength to my soul, death to mine enemy!
Welcome the first beginner of my bliss!
O Abigail, Abigail, that I had thee here too!
Then my desires were fully satisfied:
But I will practice thy enlargement thence:
O girl! O gold! 26 O beauty! O my bliss!
Hugs the bags.

Father, it draweth towards midnight now,
And ’bout this time the nuns begin to wake;
To shun suspicion, therefore, let us part.

Farewell, my joy, and by my fingers take
A kiss from him that sends it from his soul.

Now, Phoebus, ope the eye-lids of the day,
And, for the raven, wake the morning lark,
That I may hover with her in the air;
Singing o’er these, as she does o’er her young.
Hermoso placer de los dineros.

Now, captain, tell us whither thou art bound?
Whence is thy ship that anchors in our road?
And why thou cam’st ashore without our leave?

Governor of Malta, hither am I bound;
My ship, the Flying Dragon, is of Spain,
And so am I: Del Bosco is my name;
Vice-admiral unto the Catholic King.

’Tis true, my lord, therefore entreat 27 him well.

Our fraught 28 is Grecians, Turks, and Afric Moors.
For late upon the coast of Corsica,
Because we vailed 29 not to the Turkish 30 fleet,
Their creeping galleys had us in the chase:
But suddenly the wind began to rise,
And then we luffed and tacked, 31 and fought at ease:
Some have we fired, and many have we sunk;
But one amongst the rest became our prize:
The captain’s slain; the rest remain our slaves,
Of whom we would make sale in Malta here.

Martin del Bosco, I have heard of thee;
Welcome to Malta, and to all of us;
But to admit a sale of these thy Turks
We may not, nay, we dare not give consent
By reason of a tributary league.

Del Bosco, as thou lov’st and honour’st us,
Persuade our governor against the Turk;
This truce we have is but in hope of gold,
And with that sum he craves might we wage war.

Will Knights of Malta be in league with Turks,
And buy it basely too for sums of gold?
My lord, remember that, to Europe’s shame,
The Christian Isle of Rhodes, from whence you came,
Was lately lost, and you were stated 32 here
To be at deadly enmity with Turks.

Captain, we know it, but our force is small.

What is the sum that Calymath requires?

A hundred thousand crowns.

My lord and king hath title to this isle,
And he means quickly to expel you hence;
Therefore be ruled by me, and keep the gold:
I’ll write unto his majesty for aid,
And not depart until I see you free.

On this condition shall thy Turks be sold:
Go, officers, and set them straight in show.⁠—

Bosco, thou shalt be Malta’s general;
We and our warlike Knights will follow thee
Against these barb’rous misbelieving Turks.

So shall you imitate those you succeed:
For when their hideous force environed Rhodes,
Small though the number was that kept the town,
They fought it out, and not a man survived
To bring the hapless news to Christendom.

So will we fight it out: come, let’s away:
Proud daring Calymath, instead of gold,
We’ll send thee bullets wrapt in smoke and fire:
Claim tribute where thou wilt, we are resolved,
Honour is bought with blood, and not with gold.

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