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 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.

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 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.

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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, 50 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. 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
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?
Jes. Past all expressing. It is very meet

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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 mean it, then
In reason he should never come to heaven.

Why, if two gods should play some heavenly matcì
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.

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 FOURTH. - SCENE I.

Venice. A court of justice.°

Enter the DUKE, the Magnificoes, ANTONIO, BASSANIO, GRATIANO, SALERIO, 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
Uncapable of pity, void and empty
From any dram of mercy.

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
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit,
The very tyranny° and rage of his.

ΤΟ

Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. Saler. He is 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,

That thou but lead'st 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 exact'st 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.°

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3€

Shy. I have possess'd° your Grace of what I pur pose;

And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn