_Math._ What makes the Jew and Lodowick so private? I fear me 'tis about fair Abigail. _Bar._ Yonder comes Don Mathias, let us stay;[65] [_Exit_ LODOWICK. He loves my daughter, and she holds him dear: But I have sworn to frustrate both their hopes, And be revenged upon the Governor. _Moth._ This Moor is comeliest, is he not? speak, son. _Math._ No, this is the better, mother; view this well. _Bar._ Seem not to know me here before your mother, Lest she mistrust the match that is in hand: 150 When you have brought her home, come to my house; Think of me as thy father; son, farewell. _Math._ But wherefore talked Don Lodowick with you? _Bar._ Tush! man, we talked of diamonds, not of Abigail. _Moth._ Tell me, Mathias, is not that the Jew? _Bar._ As for the comment on the Maccabees, I have it, sir, and 'tis at your command. _Math._ Yes, madam, and my talk with him was [but][66] About the borrowing of a book or two. _Moth._ Converse not with him, he's cast off from heaven. 160 Thou hast thy crowns, fellow; come, let's away. _Math._ Sirrah, Jew, remember the book. _Bar._ Marry will I, sir. [_Exeunt_ MATHIAS _and his_ Mother. _Off._ Come, I have made A reasonable market; let's away. [_Exeunt_ Officers _with slaves._ _Bar._ Now let me know thy name, and therewithal Thy birth, condition, and profession. _Itha._ Faith, sir, my birth is but mean: my name's Ithamore, my profession what you please. _Bar._ Hast thou no trade? then listen to my words, 170 And I will teach [thee] that shall stick by thee: First be thou void of these affections, Compassion, love, vain hope, and heartless fear, Be moved at nothing, see thou pity none, But to thyself smile when the Christians moan. _Itha._ O brave! master, I worship your nose[67] for this