The Jew of Malta E-Book

Christopher Marlowe

• Herausgeber: Christopher Marlowe
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

We know not how our play may pass this stage, But by the best of poets in that age THE MALTA-JEW had being and was made; And he then by the best of actors play'd: In HERO AND LEANDER one did gain A lasting memory; in Tamburlaine, This Jew, with others many, th' other wan The attribute of peerless, being a man Whom we may rank with (doing no one wrong) Proteus for shapes, and Roscius for a tongue,— So could he speak, so vary; nor is't hate To merit in him who doth personate Our Jew this day; nor is it his ambition To exceed or equal, being of condition More modest: this is all that he intends, (And that too at the urgence of some friends,) To prove his best, and, if none here gainsay it, The part he hath studied, and intends to play it.

Leseprobe

Christopher Marlowe

The Jew of Malta

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Table of contents

THE PROLOGUE SPOKEN AT COURT.

EPILOGUE SPOKEN AT COURT.

THE PROLOGUE TO THE STAGE, AT THE COCK-PIT.

EPILOGUE TO THE STAGE, AT THE COCK-PIT.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

THE JEW OF MALTA.

ACT I. 16

ACT II.

ACT III.

ACT IV.

ACT V.

Footnotes:

THE PROLOGUE SPOKEN AT COURT.

Gracious and great, that we so boldly dare     ('Mongst other plays that now in fashion are)     To present this, writ many years agone,     And in that age thought second unto none,     We humbly crave your pardon.  We pursue     The story of a rich and famous Jew     Who liv'd in Malta:  you shall find him still,     In all his projects, a sound Machiavill;     And that's his character.  He that hath past     So many censures 3 is now come at last     To have your princely ears:  grace you him; then     You crown the action, and renown the pen.

EPILOGUE SPOKEN AT COURT.

It is our fear, dread sovereign, we have bin 4    Too tedious; neither can't be less than sin     To wrong your princely patience:  if we have,     Thus low dejected, we your pardon crave;     And, if aught here offend your ear or sight,     We only act and speak what others write.

THE PROLOGUE TO THE STAGE, AT THE COCK-PIT.

We know not how our play may pass this stage,     But by the best of poets 5 in that age     THE MALTA-JEW had being and was made;     And he then by the best of actors 6 play'd:     In HERO AND LEANDER 7 one did gain     A lasting memory; in Tamburlaine,     This Jew, with others many, th' other wan     The attribute of peerless, being a man     Whom we may rank with (doing no one wrong)     Proteus for shapes, and Roscius for a tongue,—     So could he speak, so vary; nor is't hate     To merit in him 8 who doth personate     Our Jew this day; nor is it his ambition     To exceed or equal, being of condition     More modest:  this is all that he intends,     (And that too at the urgence of some friends,)     To prove his best, and, if none here gainsay it,     The part he hath studied, and intends to play it.

EPILOGUE TO THE STAGE, AT THE COCK-PIT.

In graving with Pygmalion to contend,     Or painting with Apelles, doubtless the end     Must be disgrace:  our actor did not so,—     He only aim'd to go, but not out-go.     Nor think that this day any prize was play'd; 9    Here were no bets at all, no wagers laid: 10    All the ambition that his mind doth swell,     Is but to hear from you (by me) 'twas well.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

FERNEZE, governor of Malta.     LODOWICK, his son.     SELIM CALYMATH, son to the Grand Seignior.     MARTIN DEL BOSCO, vice-admiral of Spain.     MATHIAS, a gentleman.     JACOMO,     |     BARNARDINE, | friars.     BARABAS, a wealthy Jew.     ITHAMORE, a slave.     PILIA-BORZA, a bully, attendant to BELLAMIRA.     Two Merchants.     Three Jews.     Knights, Bassoes, Officers, Guard, Slaves, Messenger,          and Carpenters     KATHARINE, mother to MATHIAS.     ABIGAIL, daughter to BARABAS.     BELLAMIRA, a courtezan.     Abbess.     Nun.     MACHIAVEL as Prologue speaker.          Scene, Malta.

THE JEW OF MALTA.

Enter MACHIAVEL.     MACHIAVEL. Albeit the world think Machiavel is dead,     Yet was his soul but flown beyond the Alps;     And, now the Guise 11 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.     Admir'd 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 poison'd 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 asham'd to hear such fooleries.     Many will talk of title to a crown:     What right had Caesar to the empery? 12     Might first made kings, and laws were then most sure     When, like the Draco's, 13 they were writ in blood.     Hence comes it that a strong-built citadel     Commands much more than letters can import:     Which maxim had 14 Phalaris observ'd,     H'ad never bellow'd, in a brazen bull,     Of great ones' envy:  o' 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 15 in Britain,     But to present the tragedy of a Jew,     Who smiles to see how full his bags are cramm'd;     Which money was not got without my means.     I crave but this,—grace him as he deserves,     And let him not be entertain'd the worse     Because he favours me.          [Exit.]