The Jew of Malta
Enter BARABAS and ITHAMORE. Bells within.
BARABAS. There is no music to a Christian's knell:
How sweet the bells ring, now the nuns are dead,
That sound at other times like tinkers' pans!
I was afraid the poison had not wrought,
Or, though it wrought, it would have done no good,
For every year they swell, and yet they live:
Now all are dead, not one remains alive.
That's brave, master: but think you it will not be known?
BARABAS. How can it, if we two be secret?
ITHAMORE. For my part, fear you not.
BARABAS. I'd cut thy throat, if I did.
ITHAMORE. And reason too.
But here's a royal monastery hard by;
Good master, let me poison all the monks.
BARABAS. Thou shalt not need; for, now the nuns are dead,
They'll die with grief.
ITHAMORE. Do you not sorrow for your daughter's death?
BARABAS. No, but I grieve because she liv'd so long,
An Hebrew born, and would become a Christian:
Look, look, master; here come two religious caterpillars.
Enter FRIAR JACOMO and FRIAR BARNARDINE.
BARABAS. I smelt 'em ere they came.
ITHAMORE. God-a-mercy, nose! Come, let's begone.
FRIAR BARNARDINE. Stay, wicked Jew; repent, I say, and stay.