Abig. Hard-hearted father, unkind Barabas, Was this the pursuit of thy policy! To make me show them favour severally, That by my favour they should both be slain? Admit thou lov'dst not Lodowick for his sire, [89] Yet Don Mathias ne'er offended thee: But thou wert set upon extreme revenge, Because the Prior [90] dispossessed thee once, And could'st not 'venge it, but upon his son;50 Nor on his son, but by Mathias' means; Nor on Mathias, but by murdering me. But I perceive there is no love on earth, Pity in Jews, or piety in Turks. But here comes cursed Ithamore, with the friar.
Enter Ithamore and Friar Jacomo.
F. Jac. Virgo, salve.
Itha. When! duck you! [91]
Abig. Welcome, grave friar; Ithamore begone. [Exit Ithamore. Know, holy sir, I am bold to solicit thee.
F. Jac. Wherein?60
Abig. To get me be admitted for a nun.
F. Jac. Why, Abigail, it is not yet long since That I did labour thy admission, And then thou did'st not like that holy life.
Abig. Then were my thoughts so frail and unconfirmed, And I was chained to follies of the world: But now experience, purchasèd with grief, Has made me see the difference of things. My sinful soul, alas, hath paced too long The fatal labyrinth of misbelief,70 Far from the sun that gives eternal life.
F. Jac. Who taught thee this?