[Whispers to her.]       BELLAMIRA. Go to, it shall be so. ITHAMORE. Of 168 that condition I will drink it up:      Here's to thee. BELLAMIRA. 169 Nay, I'll have all or none. ITHAMORE. There, if thou lov'st me, do not leave a drop. BELLAMIRA. Love thee! fill me three glasses. ITHAMORE. Three and fifty dozen:  I'll pledge thee. PILIA-BORZA. Knavely spoke, and like a knight-at-arms. ITHAMORE. Hey, Rivo Castiliano! 170 a man's a man. BELLAMIRA. Now to the Jew. ITHAMORE. Ha! to the Jew; and send me money he 171 were best. PILIA-BORZA. What wouldst thou do, if he should send thee none? ITHAMORE. Do nothing:  but I know what I know; he's a murderer. BELLAMIRA. I had not thought he had been so brave a man. ITHAMORE. You knew Mathias and the governor's son; he and I killed 'em both, and yet never touched 'em. PILIA-BORZA. O, bravely done! ITHAMORE. I carried the broth that poisoned the nuns; and he and I, snicle hand too fast, strangled a friar. 172 BELLAMIRA. You two alone? ITHAMORE. We two; and 'twas never known, nor never shall be for me. PILIA-BORZA. This shall with me unto the governor.           [Aside to BELLAMIRA.]       BELLAMIRA. And fit it should:  but first let's ha' more gold.—           [Aside to PILIA-BORZA.]      Come, gentle Ithamore, lie in my lap. ITHAMORE. Love me little, love me long:  let music rumble, Whilst I in thy incony 173 lap do tumble. Enter BARABAS, disguised as a French musician, with a lute, and a nosegay in his hat. BELLAMIRA. A French musician!—Come, let's hear your skill. BARABAS. Must tuna my lute for sound, twang, twang, first. ITHAMORE. Wilt drink, Frenchman? here's to thee with a—Pox on this drunken hiccup! BARABAS. Gramercy, monsieur. BELLAMIRA. Prithee, Pilia-Borza, bid the fiddler give me the posy in his hat there. PILIA-BORZA. Sirrah, you must give my mistress your posy. BARABAS. A votre commandement, madame.           [Giving nosegay.]       BELLAMIRA. How sweet, my Ithamore, the flowers smell! ITHAMORE. Like thy breath, sweetheart; no violet like 'em. PILIA-BORZA. Foh! methinks they stink like a hollyhock. 174 BARABAS. So, now I am reveng'd upon 'em all:      The scent thereof was death; I poison'd it.           [Aside.]       ITHAMORE. Play, fiddler, or I'll cut your cat's guts into chitterlings. BARABAS. Pardonnez moi, be no in tune yet:  so, now, now all be in. ITHAMORE. Give him a crown, and fill me out more wine. PILIA-BORZA. There's two crowns for thee:  play.           [Giving money.]       BARABAS. How liberally the villain gives me mine own gold!      

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