BARABAS. I know it: yet, I say, make love to him;
Do, it is requisite it should be so.--
[Aside to her.]
Nay, on my life, it is my factor's hand;
But go you in, I'll think upon the account.
[Exeunt ABIGAIL and LODOWICK into the house.]
The account is made, for Lodovico<85> dies.
My factor sends me word a merchant's fled
That owes me for a hundred tun of wine:
I weigh it thus much[snapping his fingers]! I have wealth enough;
For now by this has he kiss'd Abigail,
And she vows love to him, and he to her.
As sure as heaven rain'd manna for the Jews,
So sure shall he and Don Mathias die:
His father was my chiefest enemy.

Enter MATHIAS.

Whither goes Don Mathias? stay a while.

MATHIAS. Whither, but to my fair love Abigail?

BARABAS. Thou know'st, and heaven can witness it is true,
That I intend my daughter shall be thine.

MATHIAS. Ay, Barabas, or else thou wrong'st me much.

BARABAS. O, heaven forbid I should have such a thought!
Pardon me though I weep: the governor's son