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• Which I denying, they fell fick, and dy'd;
I could not do with all: then I'll repent, • And wiíh, for all that, that I had not kill'd them. • And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell; • That men shall swear I've discontinued school . Above a twelvemonth. I have in my mind A thousand raw tricks of these bragging jacks, \Vhich I will practise.
Ner. Shall we turn to men?
Por. Fie, what a question's that?
SCENE VI. Enter Launcelot and Jesuc. Laun. Yes, truly: for look you, the sins of the father are to be laid upon the children; therefore I promise you, I fear you. I was always plain with you; and so now I speak my agitation of the matter: there. fore be of good cheer; foi truly I think you are. damn'd. There is but one hope in it that can do you any good, and that is but a kind of baftard hope neither. F.
:. Ard what hope is that, I pray thee? Laun. Marry, you may parıly hope that your father got you not, that you are not the Jew's daughter.
Jef. That were a kind of baitard hope indeed; fo the fins of my mother should be visited upon me.
Lauri. Truly, then, I fear you are damu'd both by father and mother. Thus, when you shun Scylla your father, you mall into Charybdis your mother: well, you are gone both ways.
%. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made. me a Chriftian.
Laun. Truly, the more to blame he. We were Chriftians enough 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 rather on the coals for money.
Jef. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say: here he comes.
Lor. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot, if you thus get my wife into corners.
Jes. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo'; Launcelot and I are out; he tells me fatly 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 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.
Laun. It is much that the bioor should be more than reason; but if she be less than an honest woman, she is indeed more than I took her for,
Lor. How every fool can play upon the world! I think the belt grace of wit will shortly turn into silence, and discourse grow commendable in none but parrots. Go in, firrah, bid them prepare for dinner.
Laun. That is done, Sir; they have all ftomachs.
Lor. Good 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.
Lor. Yet more quarrelling with occafion! wilt thou Thew the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray thee understand a plain man in his plain nieaning: Go to thy fellows, bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.
Laun. For the table, Sir, it shall be serv'd in, for the meat, Sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in to dinner, Sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits
[Exit Laun. 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 trickly word
• Defy the matter.' How far'ít thou, Jeffica?
Fel. Pait all expressing: it is very meet
Lor. Even such a husband
Fef. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that.
Lor. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk;
ACT IV. SCENE I.
The ferate-boufe in Venice. Enter the Duke, the Senators; Anthonio, Bafanio, and Gra
tiano, at the bar.
WHAT, is Anthonio here?
'Duke. HAT, is Anthonio here? Ant. Ready, so please your Grace. .
Duke. I am sorry for thee; thou art come to answer
-dram of mercy.
To fuffer, with a quietness of spirit,
Shy. I have poffefs'd your Grace of what I purpose:
house be troubled with a rat,
Masters * That is, they are so affected with it.
Masters of pafsion sway it to the mood
Bal. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man,
Bal. For thy three thousand ducats here is fịx,
Shy. If ev'ry ducat in fix thousand ducats
my bond. Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none?
Shy. What judgment fhall I dread, doing no wrong? You have among you many a purchas'd flave, Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and mules,