shall proceed; 143 O happy hour, wherein I shall convert An infidel, and bring his gold into our treasury! But soft! is not this Barnardine? it is; And, understanding I should come this way, Stands here o' purpose, meaning me some wrong, And intercept my going to the Jew.— Barnardine! Wilt thou not speak? thou think'st I see thee not; Away, I'd wish thee, and let me go by: No, wilt thou not? nay, then, I'll force my way; And, see, a staff stands ready for the purpose. As thou lik'st that, stop me another time! [Takes the staff, and strikes down the body.] Enter BARABAS and ITHAMORE. BARABAS. Why, how now, Jacomo! what hast thou done? FRIAR JACOMO. Why, stricken him that would have struck at me. BARABAS. Who is it? Barnardine! now, out, alas, he is slain! ITHAMORE. Ay, master, he's slain; look how his brains drop out on's 144 nose. FRIAR JACOMO. Good sirs, I have done't: but nobody knows it but you two; I may escape. BARABAS. So might my man and I hang with you for company. ITHAMORE. No; let us bear him to the magistrates. FRIAR JACOMO. Good Barabas, let me go. BARABAS. No, pardon me; the law must have his course: I must be forc'd to give in evidence, That, being importun'd by this Barnardine To be a Christian, I shut him out, And there he sate: now I, to keep my word, And give my goods and substance to your house, Was up thus early, with intent to go Unto your friary, because you stay'd. ITHAMORE. Fie upon 'em! master, will you turn Christian, when holy friars turn devils and murder one another? BARABAS. No; for this example I'll remain a Jew: Heaven bless me! what, a friar a murderer! When shall you see a Jew commit the like? ITHAMORE. Why, a Turk could ha' done no more. BARABAS. To-morrow is the sessions; you shall to it.— Come, Ithamore, let's help to take him hence. FRIAR JACOMO. Villains, I am a sacred person; touch me not. BARABAS. The law shall touch you; we'll but lead you, we: 'Las, I could weep at your calamity!— Take in the staff too, for that must be shown: Law wills that each particular be known. [Exeunt.] Enter BELLAMIRA 145 and PILIA-BORZA. BELLAMIRA. Pilia-Borza, didst thou meet with Ithamore? PILIA-BORZA. I did. BELLAMIRA. And didst thou deliver my letter? PILIA-BORZA. I did. BELLAMIRA. And what thinkest thou? will he come? PILIA-BORZA. I think so: and yet I cannot tell; for, at the reading of the letter, he looked like a man of another world. BELLAMIRA. Why so? PILIA-BORZA. That such a base slave as he should