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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,


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