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قراءة كتاب The Works of Christopher Marlowe, Vol. 2 (of 3)
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اللغة: English
The Works of Christopher Marlowe, Vol. 2 (of 3)
الصفحة رقم: 6
being valued, Amount to more than all the wealth in Malta, And of the other we have seizèd half.
Gov.[26] Then we'll take order for the residue.
Bar. Well then, my lord, say, are you satisfied? You have my goods, my money, and my wealth, My ships, my store, and all that I enjoyed; And, having all, you can request no more;140 Unless your unrelenting flinty hearts Suppress all pity in your stony breasts, And now shall move you to bereave my life.
Gov. No, Barabas, to stain our hands with blood Is far from us and our profession.
Bar. Why, I esteem the injury far less To take the lives of miserable men Than be the causes of their misery. You have my wealth, the labour of my life, The comfort of mine age, my children's hope,150 And therefore ne'er distinguish of the wrong.
Gov. Content thee, Barabas, thou hast naught but right.
Bar. Your extreme right does me exceeding wrong: But take it to you, i' the devil's name.
Gov. Come, let us in, and gather of these goods The money for this tribute of the Turk.
1 Knight. 'Tis necessary that be looked unto: For if we break our day, we break the league, And that will prove but simple policy. [Exeunt, all except Barabas and the Jews.
Bar. I, policy! that's their profession,160 And not simplicity, as they suggest. The plagues of Egypt, and the curse of Heaven, Earth's barrenness, and all men's hatred Inflict upon them, thou great Primus Motor! And here upon my knees, striking the earth, I ban their souls to everlasting pains And extreme tortures of the fiery deep, That thus have dealt with me in my distress.
1 Jew. O yet be patient, gentle Barabas.
Bar. O silly brethren, born to see this day;170 Why stand you thus unmoved with my laments? Why weep ye not to think upon my wrongs? Why pine not I, and die in this distress?
1 Jew. Why, Barabas, as hardly can we brook The cruel handling of ourselves in this; Thou seest they have taken half our goods.
Bar. Why did you yield to their extortion? You were a multitude, and I but one: And of me only have they taken all.
1 Jew. Yet, brother Barabas, remember Job.180
Bar. What tell you me of Job? I wot his wealth Was written thus: he had seven thousand sheep, Three thousand camels, and two hundred yoke Of labouring oxen, and five hundred She-asses: but for every one of those, Had they been valued at indifferent rate, I had at home, and in mine argosy, And other ships that came from Egypt last, As much as would have bought his beasts and him, And yet have kept enough to live upon: 190 So that not he, but I may curse the day, Thy fatal birth-day, forlorn Barabas; And henceforth wish for an eternal night, That clouds of darkness may inclose my flesh, And hide these extreme sorrows from mine eyes: For only I have toiled to inherit here The months of vanity and loss of time, And painful nights, have been appointed me.
2 Jew. Good Barabas, be patient.
Bar. I, I; pray leave me in my patience.200 You that were[27] ne'er possessed of wealth, are pleased with want; But give him liberty at least to mourn, That in a field amidst his enemies Doth see his soldiers slain, himself disarmed, And knows no means of his recovery: I, let me sorrow for this sudden chance; 'Tis in the trouble of my spirit I speak; Great injuries are not so soon forgot.
1 Jew. Come, let us leave him; in his ireful mood Our words will but increase his ecstasy.210
2 Jew. On, then; but trust me 'tis a misery To see a man in such affliction.— Farewell, Barabas! [Exeunt.
Bar. I, fare you well. See the simplicity of these base slaves, Who, for the villains have no wit themselves, Think me to be a senseless lump of clay That will with every water wash to dirt: No, Barabas is born to better chance, And framed of finer mould than common men, That measure naught but by the present time.220 A reaching thought will search his deepest wits, And cast with cunning for the time to come: For evils are apt to happen every day— But whither wends my beauteous Abigail?
Enter Abigail, the Jew's daughter.
O! what has made my lovely daughter sad? What, woman! moan not for a little loss: Thy father hath enough in store for thee.
Abig. Nor [not?] for myself, but agèd Barabas: