SCENE V. The same. A Garden. 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 dainn'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 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; 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 commouwealth; 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? 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 hu mours and conceits shall govern. [Erit 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. inach. 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, Bassa nio, 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, And that no lawful means can carry me Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 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, Hatred, malice. + Pity. Seeming. And where thou now exact'st the penalty But touch'd with human gentleness and love, We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. Shy. I have possess'd your grace of what I pur pose; And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn, Upon your charter, and your city's freedom. Of what it likes, or loaths: Now, for your answer: * Whereas. § Prejudice. + Particular fancy. Crying. |