_Bar._ No; so shall I, if any hurt be done, Be made an accessary of your deeds; Revenge it on him when you meet him next. _Math._ For this I'll have his heart. _Bar._ Do so; lo here I give thee Abigail. _Math._ What greater gift can poor Mathias have? Shall Lodowick rob me of so fair a love? 350 My life is not so dear as Abigail. _Bar._ My heart misgives me, that, to cross your love, He's with your mother, therefore after him. _Math._ What, is he gone unto my mother? _Bar._ Nay, if you will, stay till she comes herself. _Math._ I cannot stay; for if my mother come, She'll die with grief. [_Exit._ _Abig._ I cannot take my leave of him for tears: Father, why have you thus incensed them both? _Bar._ What's that to thee? 360 _Abig._ I'll make 'em friends again. _Bar._ You'll make 'em friends! Are there not Jews enough in Malta, But thou must doat upon a Christian? _Abig._ I will have Don Mathias, he is my love. _Bar._ Yes, you shall have him: go put her in. _Itha._ I, I'll put her in. [_Puts her in._ _Bar._ Now tell me, Ithamore, how lik'st thou this? _Itha._ Faith, master, I think by this You purchase both their lives; is it not so? 370 _Bar._ True; and it shall be cunningly performed. _Itha._ O master, that I might have a hand in this. _Bar._ I, so thou shalt, 'tis thou must do the deed: Take this, and bear it to Mathias straight, [_Gives a letter._ And tell him that it comes from Lodowick. _Itha._ 'Tis poisoned, is it not? _Bar._ No, no, and yet it might be done that way: It is a challenge feigned from Lodowick. _Itha._ Fear not; I will so set his heart afire, That he shall verily think it comes from him. 380 _Bar._ I cannot choose but like thy readiness: Yet be not rash, but do it cunningly. _Itha._ As I behave myself in this, employ me here-after. _Bar._ Away then. [_Exit._ So, now will I go in to Lodowick, And, like a cunning spirit, feign some lie, Till I have set 'em both at enmity. [_Exit._ ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I. _Enter_[77] BELLAMIRA, _a courtesan._ _Bell._ Since this town was besieged, my gain grows cold: The time has been that, but for one bare night, A hundred ducats have been freely given: But now against my will I must be chaste; And yet I know my beauty doth not fail. From Venice merchants, and from Padua Were wont to come rare-witted gentlemen, Scholars I mean, learnèd and liberal; And now, save Pilia-Borza, comes there none, And he is very seldom from my house; 10 And here he comes. _Enter_ PILIA-BORZA.