You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, A cur can lend three thoufand ducats? Or Anth. I am as like to call thee fo again, Who, if he break, thou may'ft with better face Shy. Why, how you ftorm! I would be friends with you, and have your love; Of ufance of my monies, and you'll not hear me : Anth. This were kindness. Shy. This kindness will I show; Go with me to a notary, feal me there In fuch a place, fuch fum, or fums, as are Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken Shylock, with great fubtilty and address, enumerates the injuries he hath fuftained, to make a greater merit of lending the money. His fpeech is written in fo mafterly a manner, and with fuch fine variation, that when well spoken the actor must get applause. Anth. Content in faith; I'll feal to fuch a bond, And fay, there is much kindness in the Jew. Ba. You fhall not feal to fuch a bond for me. I'll rather dwell in my neceffity. Anth. Why, fear not, man; I will not forfeit it ; Within these two months (that's a month before This bond expires) I do expect return Of thrice three times the value of this bond. Shy. O father Abraham,, what these chriftians are, A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man, As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I fay, I will be with you. Anth. Hie thee, gentle Jew.. [Exit. This Hebrew will turn chriftian; he grows kind. Baff. I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind.. Anth. Come on, in this there can be no difmay; My fhips come home a month before the day. [Exeunt.. ACT II. SCENE, the Ryálto at Venice. Enter LAUNCELOT alone.* Laun. CERTAINLY, my confcience will serve me to run from this Jew my mafter. The fiend is at my elbow,. *The fecond A&t is, in reprefentation, ufually begun here; yet we think the following fcene of Prince Merochius, preceding it, and the whole of his character, as well as that of the Prince of elbow, and tempts me, faying to me, Gobbo, LaunceLat Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good. Launcelot Gobbo, ufe your legs, take the ftart, run My confcience fays, no; take heed, honeft away. Launcelot ; of Arragon, should be retained, not only for the fake of uniformity, but because they are worthy of Shakespeare's pen. Scene Belmont. Enter Morochius, a tawny moor, all in white, and three or four followers accordingly with Portia; Neriffa, and her train. Flourish cornets. MOR. Miflike me not for my complexion, The fhadowy livery of the burnish'd fun, Have lov'd it too. I would not change this hue, By nice direction of a maiden's eyes: His wife, who wins me by that means I told you, For my affection. MOR. Ev'n for that I thank you Therefore, I pray you lead me to the cafkets, And fo may I, blind fortune leading me, B3 POR Launcelot; take heed, honeft Gobbo, or, as aforefaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo, do not run; fcorn running. with thy heels. Well, the moft courageous fiend bids me pack; via! fays the fiend ;. away, fays the fiend ; for the heavens roufe up a brave mind, fays the fiend, and run. Well, my confcience, hanging about the neck of my heart, fays very wifely to me, my honeft. friend Launcelot, being an honest man's fon, or rather an honest woman's fon (for indeed, my father did fomething fmack, fomething grow to; he had a kind of taste) well, my confcience fays, budge not; budge, fays the fiend; budge not, fays my confcience; confcience, fay I, you counfel ill; fiend, fay I, you counsel ill. To be rul'd by my confcience, I fhould stay with the Jew my master, who, heav'n bless the mark, is a kind of devil; and to run away from the Jew, I fhould be rul'd by the fiend, who, faving your reverence, is the devil him. felf. Certainly, the Jew is the very devil innal; and in my confcience, my confcience is but a kind of hard confcience, to offer to counfel me to ftay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counfe! :: I will run; fiend, my heels are at your commandment, I will run. Enter old GOBBO, with a Basket. Gob. Mafter young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to mafter Jew's? Laun. O heav'ns, this is my true begotten father, who being more than fand-blind, high gravel blind, knows me not; I will try confufions with him. Gob. Mafter young gentleman, I pray you which is the way to maiter Jew's? Laun. Turn up on your right hand, at the next turning, but at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, POR. You must take your chance, And either not attempt to chufe, at all, Or fwear, before you chufe, if you chufe wrong, In way of marriage: therefore, be advis'd. MOR. Nor will not: therefore bring me to my chance. POR. First, forward to the temple; after dinner, Your hazard fhall be made. MOR. Good fortune, then, To make me bleft, or curfed'st among men! [Cornets [Exeunt. at at the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down directly to the Jew's houfe. Gob. By heaven's fonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him, or no? Laun. Talk you of young mafter Launcelot? (Mark me, now, now will I raise the waters :) talk. you of young master Launcelot ? Gab. No matter, fir, but a poor man's fon. His father, though I fay't, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, heav'n be thanked, well to live. Laun. Well, let his father be what he will, we talk of young mafter Launcelot. Gob. Your worship's friend and Launcelot, fir. Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man; ergo, I be feech you, talk you, of young malter Launcelot ? Gab. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. Laun. Ergo, mafter Launcelot: talk not of master Launcelot, father, for the young gentleman (according to fates and deftinies, and fuch odd fayings, the filters. three, and fuch branches of learning) is, indeed, deceafed; or, as you would fay, in plain terms, gone to heav'n. Gob. Marry, heav'n forbid! the boy was the very, ftaff of my age, my very prop. Laun. Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovel-poft, a. ftaff, or a prop? Do you know me, father? Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentle man; but I pray you, tell me, is my boy, heav'n reft his foul, alive or dead? Laun. Do you not know me, father? Gob. Alack, fir, I am fand-blind, I know you not. Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wife father, that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your fon; give me your bleffing, truth will come to light murder cannot be hid long, a man's fon may; but in the end, truth will out. : Gob. Pray you, fir, stand up; I am fure you are not Launcelot, my boy. Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your bleffing: I am Launcelot, your boy, that was, your fon that is, your chill that shall be. Gob, |