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 both ways. are gone Jes. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a Christian. Laun. Truly, the more to blame he: we were Christions 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. if Lor, I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, 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? 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 An army of good words; And I do know The lord Bassanio live an upright life; Is reason he should never come to heaven. And Portia one, there must be something else Pawn'd with the other; for the poor rude world 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, Duke. What, is Antonio here? 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, 6 Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, 1 his envy's reach,] Envy in this place means hatred or malice. 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 Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 3 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, 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, From stubborn Turks, and Tartars, never train'd 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, To have the due and forfeit of my bond: If you deny it, let the danger light Upon your charter, and your city's freedom. You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have A weight of carrion flesh, than to receive Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that: But, say, it is my humour; Is it answer'd? What if my house be troubled with a rat, And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats Of what it likes, or loaths: Now, for your answer : More than a lodg'd hate, and a certain loathing, A losing suit against him. Are you answered? 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, would'st thou have a serpent sting thee twice? Ant. I pray you, think you question with the Jew: You may as well go stand upon the beach, And bid the main flood bate his usual height; *❝ Cannot contain," &c.—Malone reads thus: |