stant? I pray thee, understand a plain man in his plain meaning: go to thy fellows; bid 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. And Portia one, there must be something else Lor. Even such a husband Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife. Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. Lor. I will anon; first, let us go to dinner. Jes. Nay, let me praise you, while I have a sto mach. Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk; Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things I shall digest it. 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, Salarino, 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 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 oppose 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, 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 loose the forfeiture, But touch'd with human gentleness and love, Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, That have of late so huddled on his back; 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 pose; pur And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn, Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood Of what it likes, or loaths: Now, for your answer: A losing suit against. him. Are you answer'd? Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my an swer. Bass. Do all men kill the things they do not love? Ant. I pray you, pray you, think you question with the Jew: You may as well stand upon go the beach, And bid the main flood bate his usual height; |