But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device
When I am in my coach, which stays for us
At the park gate; and
therefore haste away,
For we must
measure twenty miles to-day. Exeunt
SCENE V.
Belmont. The garden
Enter LAUNCELOT and JESSICA
LAUNCELOT. 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 o' 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.
JESSICA. And what hope is that, I pray thee?
LAUNCELOT. Marry, you may
partly hope that your father got you not-
that you are not the Jew's daughter.
JESSICA. That were a kind of
bastard hope indeed; so the sins of my
mother should be visited upon me.
LAUNCELOT. 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.
JESSICA. I shall be sav'd by my husband; he hath made me a
Christian.
LAUNCELOT. Truly, the more to blame he; we were Christians enow
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
JESSICA. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say; here he
comes.
LORENZO. I shall grow
jealous of you
shortly, Launcelot, if you
thus get my wife into corners.
JESSICA. Nay, you need nor fear us, Lorenzo; Launcelot and I are
out; he tells me
flatly there's no mercy for me in heaven,
because I am a Jew's daughter; and he says you are no good member
of the
wealth" target="_blank" title="n.国家;共和国;联邦">
commonwealth, for in converting Jews to Christians you
raise the price of pork.
LORENZO. I shall answer that better to the
wealth" target="_blank" title="n.国家;共和国;联邦">
commonwealth than you
can the getting up of the negro's belly; the Moor is with child
by you, Launcelot.
LAUNCELOT. 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.
LORENZO. 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.
LAUNCELOT. That is done, sir; they have all stomachs.
LORENZO. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! Then bid them
prepare dinner.
LAUNCELOT. That is done too, sir, only 'cover' is the word.
LORENZO. Will you cover, then, sir?
LAUNCELOT. Not so, sir, neither; I know my duty.
LORENZO. 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.
LAUNCELOT. For the table, sir, it shall be serv'd in; for the meat,
sir, it shall be cover'd; for your coming in to dinner, sir, why,
let it be as humours and conceits shall govern.
Exit
LORENZO. O dear
discretion, how his words are suited!
The fool hath planted in his memory
An army of good words; and I do know
A many fools that stand in better place,
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word
Defy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica?
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,
How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife?
JESSICA. Past all expressing. It is very meet
The Lord Bassanio live an
upright life,
For, having such a
blessing in his lady,
He finds the joys of heaven here on earth;
And if on earth he do not merit it,
In reason he should never come to heaven.
Why, if two gods should play some
heavenly match,
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.
LORENZO. Even such a husband
Hast thou of me as she is for a wife.
JESSICA. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.
LORENZO. I will anon; first let us go to dinner.
JESSICA. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach.
LORENZO. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk;
Then howsome'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things
I shall
digest it.
JESSICA. Well, I'll set you forth. Exeunt
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Venice. The court of justice
Enter the DUKE, the MAGNIFICOES, ANTONIO, BASSANIO,
GRATIANO, SALERIO, and OTHERS
DUKE OF VENICE. What, is Antonio here?
ANTONIO. Ready, so please your Grace.
DUKE OF VENICE. 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.
ANTONIO. 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
To suffer with a quietness of spirit
The very
tyranny and rage of his.
DUKE OF VENICE. Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
SALERIO. He is ready at the door; he comes, my lord.
Enter SHYLOCK
DUKE OF VENICE. Make room, and let him stand before our face.
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,
That thou but leadest this fashion of thy malice
To the last hour of act; and then, 'tis thought,
Thou'lt show thy mercy and
remorse, more strange
Than is thy strange
apparent cruelty;
And where thou now exacts 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,
Forgive a moiety of the principal,
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses,
That have of late so huddled on his back-
Enow to press a royal merchant down,
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.
SHYLOCK. 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
To have it ban'd? What, are you answer'd yet?
Some men there are love not a gaping pig;
Some that are mad if they behold a cat;
And others, when the bagpipe sings i' th' nose,
Cannot
contain their urine; for affection,
Mistress of
passion, sways it to the mood
Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer:
As there is no firm reason to be rend'red
Why he cannot abide a gaping pig;
Why he, a
harmless necessary cat;
Why he, a woollen bagpipe, but of force
Must yield to such
inevitable shame
As to
offend, himself being
offended;
So can I give no reason, nor I will not,
More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing
I bear Antonio, that I follow thus
A losing suit against him. Are you answered?
BASSANIO. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
To excuse the current of thy cruelty.
SHYLOCK. I am not bound to please thee with my answers.
BASSANIO. Do all men kill the things they do not love?
SHYLOCK. Hates any man the thing he would not kill?
BASSANIO. Every offence is not a hate at first.
SHYLOCK. What, wouldst thou have a
serpent sting thee twice?
ANTONIO. 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;
You may as well use question with the wolf,
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb;
You may as well
forbid the mountain pines
To wag their high tops and to make no noise
When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven;
You may as well do anything most hard
As seek to
soften that- than which what's harder?-
His
jewish heart. Therefore, I do
beseech you,
Make no moe offers, use no farther means,
But with all brief and plain conveniency
Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will.
BASSANIO. For thy three thousand ducats here is six.
SHYLOCK. If every ducat in six thousand ducats
Were in six parts, and every part a ducat,
I would not draw them; I would have my bond.
DUKE OF VENICE. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none?
SHYLOCK. What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?
You have among you many a purchas'd slave,
Which, fike your asses and your dogs and mules,
You use in
abject and in slavish parts,
Because you bought them; shall I say to you
'Let them be free, marry them to your heirs-
Why sweat they under burdens?- let their beds
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates
Be season'd with such viands'? You will answer
'The slaves are ours.' So do I answer you:
The pound of flesh which I demand of him
Is
dearly bought, 'tis mine, and I will have it.
If you deny me, fie upon your law!
There is no force in the decrees of Venice.
I stand for judgment; answer; shall I have it?
DUKE OF VENICE. Upon my power I may
dismiss this court,
Unless Bellario, a
learned doctor,