And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell, That men shall swear, I have discontinued school Above a twelvemonth:-I have within my mind A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, Which I will practise. Ner. Why, shall we turn to men? Por. Fye; what a question's that, If thou wert near a lewd interpreter? But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device Enter LAUNCELOT and JESSICA. Laun. Yes, truly: for, look you, the sins of the father are to be laid upon the children; therefore, I promise you, I fear you. I was always plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter: Therefore, be of good cheer; for, truly, I think, you are damn'd. There is but one hope in it that can do you any good; and that is but a kind of bastard hope neither. Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee? Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that your father got you not, that you are not the Jew's daughter. Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, indeed; so the sins of my mother should be visited upon me. Laun. Truly then I fear you are damn'd both by father and mother; thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother: well, you are gone both ways. Jes. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a Christian. Laun. Truly, the more to blame he; we were Christians enough before; e'en as many as could well live, one by another: This making of Christians will raisé the price of hogs; if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money. Enter LORENZO. Jes. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say; here he comes. Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if you thus get my wife into corners. Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo; Launcelot and I are out: he tells me flatly, there is no mercy for me in heaven, because I am a Jew's daughter: and he says you are no good member of the commonwealth; for, in converting Jews to Christians, you raise the price of pork. Lor. I shall answer that better to the commonwealth, than you can the getting up of the negro's belly: the Moor is with child by you, Launcelot. Laun. It is much, that the Moor should be more than reason: but if she be less than an honest woman, she is, indeed, more than I took her for. Lor. How every fool can play upon the word! I think, the best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence; and discourse grow commendable in none only but parrots. - Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner. Laun. That is done, sir; they have all stomachs. Lor. Goodly lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then bid them prepare dinner Laun. That is done too, sir; only, cover is the word. Lor. Will you cover then, sir? Luun. Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty. Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray thee, understand a plain man in his plain meaning: go to thy fellows; hid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner. Laun. For the table, sir, it shall be served in: for the meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern. [Exit LAUNCELOT. Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are suited! The fool hath planted in his memory An army of good words: And I do know Is reason he should never come to heaven. Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match, Lor. Even such a husband Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. Jes. Nay, let me praise you, while I have a stomach, Jes. Well, I'll set you forth. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I. Venice. A Court of Justice. Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes; ANTONIO, BASSANIO, GRATIANO, SALARIÑO, SALANIO, and others. Duke. What, is Antonio here? Ant. Ready, so please your grace.. Duke. I am sorry for thee; thou art come to answer A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch Uncapable of pity, void and empty From any dram of mercy. Ant. I have heard, Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, Out of his envy's reach, I do opposé My patience to his fury; and am arm'd The very tyranny and rage of his. Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. Salan. He's ready at the door: he comes, my lord. Enter SHYLOCK. Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face.→ Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice To the last hour of act; and then 'tis thought, 4 Thou'lt show thy mercy, and remorse, more strange Than is thy strange apparent cruelty: And where thou now exact'st the penalty, (Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,) Thou wilt not only lose the forfeiture, But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, And pluck commiseration of his state From brassy bosoms, and rough hearts of flint, We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. Shy. I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose; Upon your charter, and your city's freedom. Of what it likes, or loathes: Now, for your answer: Why he, a harmless necessary cat; Why he, a woollen bag-pipe; but of force As to offend, himself being offended; So can I give no reason, nor I will not, More than a lodg'd hate, and a certain loathing A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd? Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my answer. Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love? Shy. Hates any man the thing he would not kill? Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. Shy. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice? Ant. I pray you, think you question with a Jew: As seek to soften that (than which what's harder?) none? Shy. What judgment shall I dread doing no wrong? You have among you many a purchas'd slave, Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and mules, You use in abject and in slavish paris, Because you bought them:-Shall I say to you, There is no force in the decrees of Venice: I stand for judgment: answer; shall I have it? Whom I have sent for to determine this, Come here to-day. Salar. Merchant of Venice, My lord, here stays without |