In graving, with Pygmalion to contend; Or painting, with Apelles; doubtless the end Must be disgrace: our actor did not so, He only aimed to go, but not out-go. Nor think that this day any prize[5] was played; Here were no bets at all, no wagers laid;[6] All the ambition that his mind doth swell, Is but to hear from you (by me), 'twas well. _PERSONS REPRESENTED._ FERNEZE, _Governor of Malta_. SELIM CALYMATH, _Son of the Grand Seignior_. DON LODOWICK, _the Governor's Son, in love with_ ABIGAIL. DON MATHIAS, _also in love with her_. MARTIN DEL BOSCO, _Vice-Admiral of Spain_. BARABAS, _the Jew of Malta_. ITHAMORE, _Barabas' slave_. BARNARDINE,} } _Friars_. JACOMO, } PILIA-BORSA, _a Bully._ Two Merchants. Three Jews. Bassoes, Knights, Officers, Reader, Messengers, Slaves, _and_ Carpenters. KATHARINE, _mother of_ DON MATTHIAS. ABIGAIL, _the Jew's Daughter_. Abbess. Two Nuns. BELLAMIRA, _a Courtesan_. MACHIAVEL, _the Prologue_. _Scene--Malta._ THE JEW OF MALTA. _Enter_ MACHIAVEL. _Machiavel._ Albeit the world thinks Machiavel is dead, Yet was his soul but flown beyond the Alps; And now the Guise[7] is dead, is come from France, To view this land, and frolic with his friends. To some perhaps my name is odious, But such as love me guard me from their tongues; And let them know that I am Machiavel, And weigh not men, and therefore not men's words. Admired I am of those that hate me most. Though some speak openly against my books, 10 Yet they will read me, and thereby attain To Peter's chair: and when they cast me off, Are poisoned by my climbing followers. I count religion but a childish toy, And hold there is no sin but ignorance. Birds of the air will tell of murders past! I am ashamed to hear such fooleries. Many will talk of title to a crown: What right had Cæsar to the empery?[8] Might first made kings, and laws were then most sure 20 When like the Draco's[9] they were writ in blood. Hence comes it that a strong-built citadel Commands much more than letters can import; Which maxim had [but[10]] Phalaris observed, He had never bellowed, in a brazen bull, Of great one's envy. Of the poor petty wights Let me be envied and not pitièd! But whither am I bound? I come not, I, To read a lecture hear in Britainy,[11] But to present the tragedy of a Jew, 30 Who smiles to see how full his bags are crammed, Which money was not got without my means. I crave but this--grace him as he deserves, And let him not be entertained the worse Because he favours me. [_Exit._ ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I.