Scene—Malta.

The Jew of Malta

Prologue

Albeit the world think Machiavel is dead,
Yet was his soul but flown beyond the Alps,
And, now the Guise2 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,
Yet will they 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 Caesar to the empery?
Might first made kings, and laws were then most sure
When like the Draco’s, they were writ in blood.
Hence comes it that a strong-built citadel
Commands much more than letters can import;
Which maxim had but Phalaris observed,
He had never bellowed, in a brazen bull,
Of great ones’ envy. Of the poor petty wights
Let me be envied and not pitied!
But whither am I bound? I come not, I,
To read a lecture here in Britain,
But to present the tragedy of a Jew,
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.

Act I

Scene I

So that of thus much that return was made:
And of the third part of the Persian ships,
There was the venture summed and satisfied.
As for those Sabans,3 and the men of Uz,
That bought my Spanish oils and wines of Greece
Here have I purst their paltry silverlings.
Fie, what a trouble ’tis to count this trash
Well fare the Arabians, who so richly pay
The things they traffic for with wedge of gold,
Whereof a man may easily in a day
Tell4 that which may maintain him all his life.
The needy groom, that never fingered groat,
Would make a miracle of thus much coin:
But he whose steel-barred coffers are crammed full,
And all his lifeetime hath been tired,
Wearying his fingers’ ends with telling it,
Would in his age be loath to labour so,
And for a pound to sweat himself to death.
Give me the merchants of the Indian mines,
That trade in metal of the purest mould;
The wealthy Moor, that in the eastern rocks
Without control can pick his riches up,
And in his house heap pearl like pebble-stones,
Receive them free, and sell them by the weight;
Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts,
Jacinths, hard topaz, grass-green emeralds,
Beauteous rubies, sparkling diamonds,
And seld-seen5 costly stones of so great price,
As one of them, indifferently rated,
And of a carat of this quantity,
May serve in peril of calamity
To ransom great kings from captivity.
This is the ware wherein consists my wealth;
And thus methinks should men of judgment frame
Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade,
And, as their wealth increaseth, so enclose
Infinite riches in a little room.
But now how stands the wind?
Into what corner peers my halcyon’s bill?6
Ha! to the east? yes: see how stand the vanes?
East and by south: why then I hope my ships
I sent for Egypt and the bordering isles
Are gotten up by Nilus’ winding banks:
Mine argosy from Alexandria,
Loaden with spice and silks, now under sail,
Are smoothly gliding down by Candy shore
To Malta, through our Mediterranean sea.—
But who comes here?

How now?

Barabas, thy ships are safe,
Riding in Malta-road: and all the merchants
With other merchandise are safe arrived,
And have sent me to know whether yourself
Will come and custom them.7

The ships are safe thou say’st, and richly fraught.

They are.

Why then go bid them come ashore,
And bring with them their bills of entry:
I hope our credit in the custom-house
Will serve as well as I were present there.
Go send ’em threescore camels, thirty mules,
And twenty waggons, to bring up the ware.
But art thou master in a ship of mine,
And is thy credit not enough for that?

The very custom barely comes to more
Than many merchants of the town are worth,
And therefore far exceeds my credit, sir.

Go tell ’em the Jew of Malta sent thee, man:
Tush! who amongst ’em knows not Barabas?

I go.

So, then, there’s somewhat come.
Sirrah, which of my ships art thou master of?

Of the Speranza, sir.

And saw’st thou not
Mine argosy at Alexandria?
Thou could’st not come from Egypt, or by Caire,
But at the entry there into the sea,
Where Nilus pays his tribute to the main,
Thou needs must sail by Alexandria.

I neither saw them, nor inquired of them:
But this we heard some of our seamen say,
They wondered how you durst with so much wealth
Trust such a crazed vessel, and so far.

Tush, they are wise! I know her and her strength.
But go, go thou thy ways, discharge thy ship,
And bid my factor bring his loading in.

And yet I wonder at this argosy.

Thine argosy from Alexandria,
Know, Barabas, doth ride in Malta-road,
Laden with riches, and exceeding store
Of Persian silks, of gold, and orient pearl.

How chance you came not with those other ships
That sailed by Egypt?