At the park gate; and therefore haste away, [Exeunt. I was Laun. Yes, truly:- for, look you, the sins of the father are to be laid upon the children; therefore, I promise you, always plain with you, agitation of the matter: I fear you. and so now 1 speak my 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 damu'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; c'en as many as could well live, one by another: This making of Christians will raise 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; Laun celot 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. Lør. 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, Laun celot. 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 stomach. 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? Laun. 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; 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 Is reason he should never come to heaven. And on the wager lay two earthly women, And Portia one, there must be something else Pawn'd with the other; for the poor rude world Hath not her fellow. 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 stomach. 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 Uncapable of pity, void and empty Ant. I have heard, Your Grace, hath a'en great pains to qualify His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful means can carry me" Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 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 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, Thou'lt show thy mercy, and remorse, strange more Than is thy strange apparent cruelty: But touch'd with human gentleness and love, Glaucing an eye of pity on his losses, That have of late so huddled on his back; And pluck commiseration of his state From brassy bosoms, and rough hearts of flint, From stubborn Turks, and Tartars, never train'd To offices of tender courtesy, We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.. Shy. I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose; And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn, Upon your charter, and your city's freedom. |