DRAMATIC SCENES AND DIALOGUES. 1.-SCENE FROM THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. SHAKSPEARE. [William Shakspeare, the most illustrious dramatic poet of any age or country, was born at Stratford-on-Avon on the 23rd of April, 1564. He was educated at the Grammar School of his native town; but, it has been suggested, his father requiring him to assist in his business, that of a wool-dealer and butcher, he was taken early from school. At the age of eighteen he married Ann Hathaway, a farmer's daughter, and subsequently proceeded to London. The records of his early life are but scant, and too much has been written about him on mere conjecture. It is certain that in London he rapidly acquired fame and fortune, and that his genius enabled him to retire from his professional career at a comparatively early age. His imperishable works consist of thirtyseven plays, tragedies and comedies; his poems "Venus and Adonis," and "The Rape of Lucrece," with a collection of Sonnets. He died in his native town, on his birthday, 1616.] Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face.- And, where thou now exact'st the penalty But, touched with human gentleness, and love, Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, That have of late brought down such ruin on him, We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. Shy. I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose; What if my house be troubled with a rat, Shy. I am not bound to please thee with my answer. Bass. For thy three thousand ducats, here are six. Were in six parts, and ev'ry part a ducat, I would not draw them; I would have my bond. Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none ? The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, Is dearly bought: 'tis mine; and I will have it. Enter PORTIA, dressed like a Doctor of Laws. Duke. Give me your hand. Came you from old Bellario ? Por. I did, my lord. Duke. You are welcome: take your place. Are you acquainted with the cause in question? Por. I am informed thoroughly of the cause. Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew? Duke. Antonio, and old Shylock, both stand forth. Shy. Shylock is my name. Por. (To Antonio.) You stand within his danger, do you not? Ant. Ay, so he says. Por. Do you confess the bond? Ant. I do. Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. Shy. On what compulsion must I? Tell me that. Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd; It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heav'n, And earthly pow'r doth then show likest God's, And that same pray'r doth teach us all to render Shy. My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, Bass. For once I beg the court to bend the law To equity. "Tis worth a little wrong To curb this cruel devil of his will. Por. It must not be. There is no pow'r in Venice, Can alter a decree established. "Twill be recorded for a precedent, And many an error by the same example Shy. A Daniel come to judgment! Yea, a Daniel! Shy. Here't is, most reverend doctor! Here it is. Por. Shylock!-there's thrice thy money offer'd thee. Shy. An oath! an oath! I have an oath in Heav'n! Shall I lay perjury on my soul ? No, not for Venice. Por. Why, this bond is forfeit, And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Nearest the merchant's heart.-Be merciful, Take thrice thy money. Bid me tear the bond. Shy. When it is paid according to the tenor.There is no power in the tongue of man, To alter me. I stay upon my bond. Ant. Most heartily do I beseech the court To give the judgment. Por. Why, then, thus it is; You must prepare your bosom for his knife. So saith the bond; doth it not, noble judge? Nearest his heart. Those are the very words. Por. It is so. Are there scales to weigh the flesh? Por. Have here a surgeon, Shylock, at your charge, Por. It is not so expressed; but what of that? 'Twere good you do so much for charity. Shy. I cannot find it. 'Tis not in the bond. Por. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine. Por. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast. Shy. Most learned judge!-A sentence! Come, prepare. Por. Tarry a little. There is something else This bond doth give you here no jot of blood. Then take thy bond. Take thou thy pound of flesh; One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods Are, by the laws of Venice, forfeited. Gratiano. O upright judge! Mark, Jew! O learnèd judge! Shy. Is that the law ? Por. Thyself shalt see the act; For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desir'st. Gra. A learned judge! Mark, Jew! A learnèd judge! And let the Christian go. Bass. Here is the money. Por. Soft! The Jew shall have all justice ;-soft!-no haste ;- Gra. A second Daniel! Jew. Now, infidel, I have full hold of thee. Por. Why doth the Jew pause? Take the forfeiture. Shy. Why then, the devil give him good of it! Por. Stop him, guards. The law hath yet another hold on you. It is enacted by the laws of Venice, If it be proved against an alien, That by direct, or indirect attempts, He seek the life of any citizen, The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive, life Thou hast contriv'd against the very Duke. That thou may'st see the difference of our spirit, I pardon thee thy life, before thou ask it. Shy. Nay, take my life and all. Pardon not that. You take my life, taking whereon I live. Por. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ? Gra. A halter gratis; nothing else; for God's sake. Ant. So please my Lord the Duke, and all the court, To quit the fine for one-half of his goods; I shall be well contented, if I have The other half in use, until his death, Who lately stole his daughter. Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant The pardon that I late pronounced here. Por. Art thou contented, Jew? What dost thou say? Shy. I pray you give me leave to go from hence, I am not well. Send the deed after me, And I will sign it. Duke. Get thee gone. But do it. 2.-WOLSEY AND CROMWELL. SHAKSPEARE. [See page 314.] Wolsey. So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness! This is the state of man. To-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him. The third day comes a frost, a killing frost; And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root; And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, These many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth; my high-blown pride At length broke under me, and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye! I feel my heart new-opened. Oh, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile he would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and our ruin, More pangs and fears than war or women have; And, when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. |