The Merchant of Venice

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 damned 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 saved 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 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 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. Lorenzo I shall answer that better to the 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 tree, 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 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. 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 cheerest 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 mean it, then
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, howso’er thou speak’st, ’mong other things
I shall digest it.

Jessica Well, I’ll set you forth. Exeunt.

Act IV

Scene I

Venice. A court of justice.

	Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, Gratiano, Salerio, and others.
Duke	What, is Antonio here?
Antonio	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.
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	Go one, and call the Jew into the court.
Salerio	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.
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 pleased to give ten thousand ducats To have