_Bar._ Nay, back, Abigail, (_And think upon the jewels and the gold_, [_Whispers to her. The board is markèd thus that covers it._) Away, accursèd, from thy father's sight. _F. Jac._ Barabas, although thou art in misbelief, And wilt not see thine own afflictions, Yet let thy daughter be no longer blind. 350 _Bar._ Blind friar, I reck not thy persuasions, (_The board is markèd thus[38] that covers it_.) For I had rather die than see her thus. Wilt thou forsake me too in my distress, Seducèd daughter? (_Go, forget not, go._[39]) Becomes it Jews to be so credulous? (_To-morrow early I'll be at the door._) No, come not at me; if thou wilt be damned, Forget me, see me not, and so be gone. (_Farewell, remember to-morrow morning._) 360 Out, out, thou wretch! [_Exeunt, on one side_ Barabas, _on the other side_ Friars, Abbess, Nun _and_ Abigail; _as they are going out_, _Enter_ MATHIAS. _Math._ Who's this? fair Abigail, the rich Jew's daughter, Become a nun! her father's sudden fall Has humbled her and brought her down to this: Tut, she were fitter for a tale of love, Than to be tired out with orisons: And better would she far become a bed, Embracèd in a friendly lover's arms, Than rise at midnight to a solemn mass. _Enter_ LODOWICK. _Lod._ Why, how now, Don Mathias! in a dump? 370 _Math._ Believe me, noble Lodowick, I have seen The strangest sight, in my opinion, That ever I beheld. _Lod._ What was't, I prythee? _Math._ A fair young maid, scarce fourteen years of age, The sweetest flower in Cytherea's field, Cropt from the pleasures of the fruitful earth, And strangely metamorphos'd to a nun. _Lod._ But say, what was she? _Math._ Why, the rich Jew's daughter. _Lod._ What, Barabas, whose goods were lately seized? Is she so fair? _Math._ And matchless beautiful; 380 As had you seen her 'twould have moved your heart, Though countermined with walls of brass, to love, Or at the least to pity. _Lod._ And if she be so fair as you report, 'Twere time well spent to go and visit her: How say you, shall we? _Math._ I must and will, sir; there's no remedy. _Lod._ And so will I too, or it shall go hard. Farewell, Mathias. _Math._ Farewell, Lodowick. [_Exeunt severally._ ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. _Enter_[40] BARABAS _with a light._