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The volume presents the later‑stage publication of Christopher Marlowe’s Jew of Malta, a 1633 quarto printed for Nicholas Vavasour and dedicated to Thomas Heywood’s friend Thomas Hammond. The opening pages are dominated by a lengthy prefatory epistle in which Heywood explains his decision to bring the play to print, inserts a courtly prologue and several epilogues, and lists the dramatis personae. The text then moves directly into the opening scene, where the merchant‑rich Barabas boasts of his wealth and the arrival of his cargo, while a chorus of Jews and other characters discuss the political tension surrounding Malta. The material is reproduced exactly as it appeared in the early‑modern folio, preserving the original spelling, punctuation, and stage directions.
Marlowe’s language is vigorous and rhetorically charged, reflecting the Elizabethan taste for grandiose speeches and elaborate metaphor. The play’s tone oscillates between Machiavellian cynicism and theatrical bravado, offering a vivid glimpse of late‑sixteenth‑century drama. Readers who relish dense, historically grounded verse, enjoy early modern stagecraft, or are interested in the political and religious anxieties of the period will find this work rewarding.
The opening · free to read
THE JEW OF MALTA.
Of the Jew of Malta there is no earlier edition than the 4to. of 1633, which was published under the auspices of the well-known dramatist Thomas Heywood. The title is:--_The Famous Tragedy of The Rich Iew of Malta. As it was playd before the King and Queene, in His Majesties Theatre at White-Hall, by her Majesties Servants at the Cock-pit. Written by Christopher Marlo. London: Printed by I. B. for Nicholas Vavasour, and are to be sold at his Shop in the Inner-Temple, neere the Church._ 1633. No later 4to. appeared.
TO MY WORTHY FRIEND, MASTER THOMAS HAMMON, OF GRAY'S INN, &c.
This play, composed by so worthy an author as Mr. Marlowe, and the part of the Jew presented by so unimitable an actor as Mr. Alleyn, being in this later age commended to the stage; as I ushered it unto the Court, and presented it to the Cock-pit, with these prologues and epilogues here inserted, so now being newly brought to the press, I was loth it should be published without the ornament of an Epistle; making choice of you unto whom to devote it; than whom (of all those gentlemen and acquaintance, within the compass of my long knowledge) there is none more able to tax ignorance, or attribute right to merit. Sir, you have been pleased to grace some of mine own works with your courteous patronage;[1] I hope this will not be the worse accepted, because commended by me; over whom, none can claim more power or privilege than yourself. I had no better a new-year's gift to present you with; receive it therefore as a continuance of that inviolable obligement, by which, he rests still engaged; who as he ever hath, shall always remain,
Tuissimus: THO. HEYWOOD.
THE JEW OF MALTA.
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 lived 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, is now come at last To have your princely ears: grace you him; then You crown the action, and renown the pen.
EPILOGUE.
It is our fear (dread sovereign) we have bin 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[2] in that age The Malta Jew had being, and was made; And he, then by the best of actors[3] played; 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[4] 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.
In graving, with Pygmalion to contend; Or painting, with Apelles; doubtless the end Must be disgrace: our actor did not so, He only aimed to go, but not out-go. Nor think that this day any prize[5] was played; Here were no bets at all, no wagers laid;[6] All the ambition that his mind doth swell, Is but to hear from you (by me), 'twas well.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
FERNEZE, Governor of Malta. SELIM CALYMATH, Son of the Grand Seignior. DON LODOWICK, the Governor's Son, in love with ABIGAIL. DON MATHIAS, also in love with her. MARTIN DEL BOSCO, Vice-Admiral of Spain. BARABAS, the Jew of Malta. ITHAMORE, Barabas' slave.
PILIA-BORSA, a Bully. Two Merchants. Three Jews. Bassoes, Knights, Officers, Reader, Messengers, Slaves, and Carpenters. KATHARINE, mother of DON MATTHIAS. ABIGAIL, the Jew's Daughter. Abbess. Two Nuns. BELLAMIRA, a Courtesan.
MACHIAVEL, the Prologue.
Scene--Malta.
THE JEW OF MALTA.
Enter MACHIAVEL.
Machiavel. Albeit the world thinks Machiavel is dead, Yet was his soul but flown beyond the Alps; And now the Guise[7] 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. Admired I am of those that hate me most. Though some speak openly against my books, 10 Yet they will read me, and thereby attain To Peter's chair: and when they cast me off, Are poisoned 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 ashamed to hear such fooleries. Many will talk of title to a crown:
What right had Cæsar to the empery?[8] Might first made kings, and laws were then most sure 20 When like the Draco's[9] they were writ in blood. Hence comes it that a strong-built citadel Commands much more than letters can import; Which maxim had [but[10]] Phalaris observed, He had never bellowed, in a brazen bull, Of great one's envy. Of the poor petty wights Let me be envied and not pitièd! But whither am I bound? I come not, I, To read a lecture hear in Britainy,[11] But to present the tragedy of a Jew, 30 Who smiles to see how full his bags are crammed, Which money was not got without my means. I crave but this--grace him as he deserves, And let him not be entertained the worse Because he favours me. [_Exit._
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.
Enter BARABAS in his counting-house, with heaps of gold before him.
Bar. So that of thus much that return was made: And of the third part of the Persian ships, There was the venture summed and satisfied. As for those Sabans,[12] and the men of Uz, That bought my Spanish oils and wines of Greece, Here have I purst their paltry silverlings.[13] Fie; what a trouble 'tis to count this trash. Well fare the Arabians, who so richly pay The things they traffic for with wedge of gold, Whereof a man may easily in a day 10 Tell that which may maintain him all his life. The needy groom that never fingered groat,
Would make a miracle of thus much coin: But he whose steel-barred coffers are crammed full, And [he who] all his lifetime hath been tired, Wearying his fingers' ends with telling it, Would in his age be loth to labour so, And for a pound to sweat himself to death. Give me the merchants of the Indian mines, That trade in metal of the purest mould; 20 The wealthy Moor, that in the eastern rocks Without control can pick his riches up, And in his house heap pearls like pebble stones, Receive them free, and sell them by the weight; Bags of fiery opals, sapphires, amethysts, Jacinths, hard topaz, grass-green emeralds, Beauteous rubies, sparkling diamonds, And seld-seen costly stones of so great price, As one of them indifferently rated, And of a carat of this quantity, 30 May serve in peril of calamity To ransom great kings from captivity. This is the ware wherein consists my wealth; And thus methinks should men of judgment frame Their means of traffic from the vulgar trade, And as their wealth increaseth, so inclose Infinite riches in a little room. But now how stands the wind? Into what corner peers my halcyon's[14] bill?
Ha! to the east? yes: see how stands the vanes? 40 East and by south: why then I hope my ships I sent for Egypt and the bordering isles Are gotten up by Nilus' winding banks: Mine argosy from Alexandria, Loaden with spice and silks, now under sail, Are smoothly gliding down by Candy shore To Malta, through our Mediterranean sea. But who comes here? How now.
Enter a Merchant.
Merch. Barabas, thy ships are safe, Riding in Malta Road: and all the merchants 50 With other merchandise are safe arrived, And have sent me to know whether yourself Will come and custom[15] them.
Bar. The ships are safe thou say'st, and richly fraught.
Merch. They are.
Bar. Why then go bid them come ashore, And bring with them their bills of entry: I hope our credit in the custom-house Will serve as well as I were present there. Go send 'em threescore camels, thirty mules, 60
And twenty waggons to bring up the ware. But art thou master in a ship of mine, And is thy credit not enough for that?
Merch. The very custom barely comes to more Than many merchants of the town are worth, And therefore far exceeds my credit, sir.
Bar. Go tell 'em the Jew of Malta sent thee, man: Tush! who amongst 'em knows not Barabas?
Merch. I go.
Bar. So then, there's somewhat come. 70 Sirrah, which of my ships art thou master of?
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