You, that did void your rheum upon my beard, Antb. I am as like to call thee so again, Shy. Why, how you storm! Anth. This were kindness. Shy. This kindness will I how; • Shylock, with great subtilty and address, enumerates the injuries he hath sustained, to make a greater merit of lending the money. His speech is written in so mafterly a manner, and with such fine variation, that when well spoken the actor must get applause. Anih. B 2 Axih. Content in faith; I'll seal to such a bond, And say, there is much kindness in the Jew. Ball. You shall not seal to such a bond for me. I'll rather dwell in my necessity. 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 cimes the value of this bond. Shy. O father Abraham ,, what these chriftians are;. Whole own hard dealings teach them to suspect The thoughts of others! Pray you, tell me this, If he should break his day, what should I gain By the exaction of the forfeicure ? A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man, Is not lo eftimable, or profitable, As flefin of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, To buy his favour, I extend this friendship! If he will take it, lo; if not, adieu ;. And for my love, I pray you, wrong me not. Anib. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. Sby. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's ; [Exit. Anth. Hie thee, gentle Jew.. This Hebrew will turn christian ; he grows kind. Bal. I like not fair terms, and a villain's mind. Anih. Come on, in this there can be no dismay; My ships come home a month before the day. (Exeunt. AC T II. Enter LAUNCELOT alone. * Laun. CERTAINLY, my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is at my elbow, * The second A& is, in representation, usually begun here ; yet we think the following scene of Prince Merochius, preceding it, and the whole of his character, as well as that of the Prince of elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, Gobbo, Laurce. lor Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo," or good. Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, runaway. My conscience says, no; take heed, honest Launcelot ; of Arragon, should be retained, not only for the sake 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; Ne riffa, and her train. Flourish cornets,' The shadowy livery of the burnish'd fun, Except to steal your thoughts, my genile queen, By nice dire&tion of a maiden's eyes : For my affection. Therefore, I pray you lead me to the caskets, So is Alcides beaten by his page ; B 3 Por, Launcelot; take heed, honelt Gobbo, or, as aforesaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo, do not run; scorn running with thy heels. Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack; via! says the fiend ; away, says the fiend ; for the heavens rouse up a brave mind, fays the fiend, and run. Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, my honest. friend Launcelot, being an honest man's fon, or rather an honest woman's son for indeed, my father did something fmack, something grow to; he had a kind of taste) well, my confcience says, budge not; budge, says the fiend ; budge not, says my conscience ; conscience, say I, you counsel ill; fiend, say I, you counsel ill. To be ruld by my conscience, I mould 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 should be ruld by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil him. self. Certainly, the Jew is the very devil innal; and in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel : I will run ; fiend, my heels are at your command. ment, I will run. Enter old GOBBO, with a Basket. Gob. Mafter young man, you, I is the way to master 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 confusions 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 chuse, at all, In way of marriage : therefore, be advis'd. Your hazard shall be made. Mor. Good fortune, then, (Cornets. To make me bleft, or curfed't among men! (Exeunt. pray you, which at but turn tell me you, of at the very next turning, turn of no hand, down: directly to the Jew's house. Gob. By heaven's foncies, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can you whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him, or no? Laun. Talk you of young master Launcelot? (Mark. me, now, now will I raise the waters :) talk, you of young master Launcelot? Gib. No matter, sir, but a poor man's son. His father, thought I say't, is an honelt exceeding pour man, and, heav'n: be thanked, well to live. Laun. Well, let his father be what he will, we talk of young master Launceler. Gob. Your worship's friend and Launcelt, fir. Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man ; ergs, I be. feech you, talk young inalter Launceloi ? Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your maftership. Laun. Ergo, master Launcelot: talk not of master Launcelot, father, for the young gentleman (according to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the filters three, and such branches of learning) is, indeed, deceased; or, as you would say, in plain terms, gone to. heav'n. Gob. Marry, heav'n forbid! the boy was the very : staff of my age, my very prop. Laun. Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovel-post, a. staff, or a prop? Do you know me, father? Gob. Ajack the day, I know you not, young gentle man; but I pray you, tell me, is my boy, heav'n rest his soul, alive or dead ? Lann. Do you not know me, father? Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me : it is a wise father, that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son ; give me your blessing, truth will come to light: murder cannot be hid long, a man's son may ; but in the end, truth will out. Gob. Pray you, fir, stand up; I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy. Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give mr your blefling: I am Launcelot, your boy, that was, your son that is, your child that shall be. Gob. |