« PředchozíPokračovat »
Por. Fie! what a question's that,
Enter LAUNCELOT, and JESSICA. I.aun. 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 damnd. There is but one hope in it that can do you any good; and that is but a kind of a bastard hope neither.
595 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 shall 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.
604 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 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.
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.
622 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? Laun. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my duty.
Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occasion! wilt thou shew 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 serv'd in; for the meat, sir, it shall be covered; for
your coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and cona ceits shall govern.
[Exit LAUNCELOT. Lor. O dear discretion, how luis words are suited! The fool hath planted in his memory
Jes. Past all expressing : It is very ineei,
And on the wager lay two earthly women,
Lor. Even such a husband
Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.. 670
ACT W. SCENE 1.
The Senate - House in Venice. Enter the Duke, the Sena
tors; ANTHONIO, BASSANIO, GRATIANO, and others.
Anth. Ready, so please your grace.
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch
Anth. I have heard,
Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. :. Sal. He's ready at the door : he comes, my lord.
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, Thou'lt shew 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, Forgive a moiety of the principal ; Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, That have of late huddled on his back ; Encugh to press a royal merchant down,
30 And pluck commiseration of his state . From brassy bosoms, and rough hearts of fint, From stubborn Turks, and Tartars, never train'd