And when the tale is told, bid her be judge, BASS. Antonio, I am married to a wife, POR. Your wite would give you little thanks for that, If she were by, to hear you make the offer. GRA. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love. I would she were in heaven, so she could Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. SHY. These be the Christian husbands: I have a daughter; Would, any of the stock of Barabbas Had been her husband, rather than a Christian! (aside.) We trifle time; I pray thee, pursue sentence. POR. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine; The court awards it, and the law doth give it. SHY. Most rightful judge! POR. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast; The law allows it, and the court awards it. SHY. Most learned judge!-A sentence; come, prepare. POR. Tarry a little :-there is something else.This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood; The words expressly are, a pound of flesh : Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh; But in the cutting it, if thou dost shed One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods Unto the state of Venice. GRA. O upright judge !—Mark, Jew,—O learned judge! SHY. Is that the law? POR. Thyself shall see the act: For, as thou urgest justice, be assured, Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. GRA. O learned judge!-Mark, Jew;-a learned judge! SHY. I take this offer then,-pay the bond thrice And let the Christian go. BASS. Here is the money. The Jew shall have all justice ;-soft!-no haste ;- GRA. O Jew! an upright judge, a learned judge! Of one poor scruple; nay, if the scale do tu Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscat Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip. POR. Why doth the Jew pause? take thy forfeiture. GRA. A Daniel, still say I; a second Daniel! SHY. Why then the devil give him good of it! POR. Tarry, Jew; The law hath yet another hold on you It is enacted in 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, Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the duke. GRA. Beg, that thou may'st have leave to hang thyself: And yet thy wealth being forfeit to the State, Thou hast not left the value of a cord; Therefore, thou must be hang'd at the State's charge. DUKE. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit. The other half comes to the general State, 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 this fine for one half of his goods; I am content, so he will let me have Two things provided more,-That, for this favor, The other, that he do record a gift, Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd, Unto his son Lorenzo, and 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 am content. POR. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 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. GRA. In christening thou shalt have two godfathe Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. [Exit SHYLO DUKE. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. POR. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon: I must away this night toward Padu And it is meet I presently set forth. DUKE. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not Antonio, gratify this gentleman; For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. [Exeunt DUKE, MAGNIFICOS, and TRAIN, MARCELIA. BARRY CORNWALL. [This fine specimen of musical blank verse sounds exceedingly well in recitation. While it should be spoken in rather a mournful, sad key, care should be taken not to fall into a monotonous chant.! IT was a dreary place. The shallow brook, That ran throughout the wood, there took a turn. That there the stream grew deeper. There dark trees Funereal (cypress, yew, and shadowy pine, Shook from their melancholy branches sounds And sighs like death: 't was strange, for through the day They stood quite motionless, and looked, methought, Like monumental things, which the sad earth From its green bosom had cast out in pity, To mark a young girl's grave. The very leaves Disowned their natural green, and took a black Lay like an armed sentinel there, catching, With his tenacious leaf, straws. withered boughs, Moss that the banks had lost, coarse grasses which Never may net Of venturous fisher be cast in with hope, And yet I love To loiter there: and when the rising moon 1 Flames down the avenue of pines, and looks Praying comes moaning through the leaves, as 't were The story goes-that some Neglected girl (an orphan whom the world Frowned upon) once strayed thither, and 't was thought MY MOTHER'S PICTURE. COWPER. [Of the many delightful poems crystalised into immortality by the genius of this great poet and most unhappy man-not one is more beautiful than this. So exquisitely has he portrayed all the feelings of an affectionate son, that the Speaker has but to imagine himself in the writer's situation to deliver the lines with effect and heartfelt feeling.] O THAT those lips had language! Life has passed Voice only fails; else, how distinct they say, Grieve not, my child; chase all thy fears away!" (Blest be the art that can immortalize, To quench it!) here shines on me still the same. |