Chorus: Air.—“The Roast Beef of Old England.”
When the new law procedure reformers can boast
That the County Court practice diminishes cost,
And in common sense forms special pleading is lost,

'Tis, oh! the poor Bar of Old England,
The unfortunate Bar of Old England. The Duke enters R. crosses to his chair C. business, he lights his cigar, &c.

Duke.
The Court's assembled! Let the Jew appear! Enter Shylock, R. with a pair of scales and carving knife, followed by Tubal bearing an enormous wash-hand basin.

Duke.
Shylock approach—Now, 'twixt ourselves 'tis clear,
You don't intend to push this matter farther,
It's but a joke we know. (very confidentally)

Shy. (ironically)
A joke? yes—rather!

Duke. (coaxingly)
You'll make it up? indeed, it hardly fair is
Opposite neighbours should be adverse-aries.
We know you mean it as a jest, a spree.

Shy.
This sort of chaff, my lord, will not catch me.
No joke he'll find it, I can tell you—though
His cutting off may seem a Jeu-de-mow;
It comes to the same thing howe'er you put it,
I mean to have my bond and nothing but it.

Ant.
Nay, say no more, friends, leave me to my fate!
As soon the stea'd be taken in to bate
Its usual height—the wolf would spare the lamb
Nor leave the tender ewe not worth a dam,
As his heart soften; therefore, sir, I can
But bare my breast, and bear it like a man.

Bass.
For thy three thousand ducats there are six (places bag of money on table)

Shy.
It isn't at the number that I sticks,
If, in three thousand ducats, every ducat,
Were doubled, that old buck should kick the bucket.
It was his custom, when he took the whim,
To cut me up, and now I'll cut up him.
You are mista'en if from my staying you hope
To wash that stain out—though you use soft soap.
In plainer words, I have insured his life,
Ensured it mind I mean. (sharpens knife on his shoe)

Grat.
What means that knife
You whet so earnestly?

Shy.
It is, mon-chere
To cut the forfeit from that bankrupt there!
For when his lordship has pronounced the sentence,
I mean to think of cutting your acquaintance! (points to Antonio)

Grat.
I see then by your pruning knife, of course,
Though you hate pig you're partial to prune sauce.

Shy.
A source you'll find for cooking your friends goose,
But talking this way what on earth's the use?
For after all palaver, t'will be found,
In for a pain he, I in for a pound.

Grat.
You've given to my faith such several staggerers
As half incline me to believe Pythagoras,
And since your mind so villanous and gross is
To hold the doctrine of Metempsychosis.

Shy.
The best thing you can hold, sir, is your tongue.

Bass.
To do a great good do a little wrong.

Shy.
Howe'er you raise your voice, sir, it will not
Erase the invoice from this bond a jot!
He has insulted me and therefore dies!

Duke.
You're getting warm?

Grat.
Heat's usual in Jew-lies.

Duke.
Hold! Silence in the Court! Clerk! Holloa, silence!
This noisy wrangle might be heard a mile hence!
The sentence of the court is, to confess
The truth, the Court feels rather in a mess;
And waits the arrival of a learned lawyer,
Bellario, a regular top sawyer.
He knows the law of Venice—no one better— Enter Nerissa, R. disguised as a lawyers clerk.

Ner.
I beg your pardon, sir, but here's a letter.

Duke.
Young man, you interrupt the court. (reading)
Holloa!
Bellario's taken ill—well here' a go!
Yet stay—what's this? a friend, who knows the case,
Takes at short notice by our leave his place,
Oh, certainly—by all means, show him in. (Exit Nerissa, R. and returns with Portia disguised in a lawyer's wig and gown; she bows to the Court.
You know what you're to do, sir, so begin.

Por.
Which is the merchant here and which the Jew?

Shy.
I'm Shylock, at your service—how d'ye do?

Por. (to Ant.)
You're taken then in execution?

Ant.
Yes,
At which, of course, I'm taken in distress.

Por.
Then must the Jew be merciful, that's flat.

Shy.
On what compulsion must I? Tell me that.

Por.
The sayings must-y and is soon explained,
The quality of mercy is not strained,
Nor filtered as Thames water needs to be
Before it's drinkable; but mercy free
Springs at the heart, and flows on undistilled, or
Pure from the lips comes as from Lipscombe's filter!
It droppeth as the gentle rain—

Shy.
There, stop,
It drops itself, so please, we'll let it drop.

Por.
Nay, come, I'm sure you mean to shew him mercy.

Shy.
Do I? well my opinion's vice versa.

Por.
Deal gently with him.

Shy.
That would never do,
You wouldn't have me Jew and Gentle too!

Por.
Come, to a fallen foe one should be kind.

Shy.
Is the Venetian a Venetian blind.

Por.
Give him some little time, it isn't clear
His Argosy mayn't after all appear.

Shy.
As for his Argosy, young sir, I doubt,
T'would need an Argus eye to find it out!

Bass.
We've offered him three times the borrowed sum
Here, in this sack.

Shy.
I shall not take it.

Por.
Come,
You will, I'm sure, this trifling favour show,
Here is the money—take the sack and go.
You won't? Then did I talk till I were hoarse
I fear the law must take its lawful course.

Shy.
Oh, wise young judge! discriminating beak!
Precious juvenile! just hear him speak!

Por.
You've brought, of course, altho' I don't a surgeon see,
Some leech to staunch his wound in this emergency?
For, by that time your vengeance will be sated.

Shy.
Pray, is it in the bond so nominated?
A surgeon? look then? You'll not find I'm poz there!
That item—

Por.
Then it's high time that it was there.
The law's on your side though, there's no doubt of it,

Shy.
A Nonpareil—true as a Derby prophet!

Por. (to Ant.)
You must, I fear, to this unfeeling man
Lay bare your breast—

Duke.
Yet stay, is there no plan
No panacea for your cruel mood?

Shy.
You see the pan is here to catch the blood, (to Ant.)
Your woes are great, and I prescribe, to end 'em,
One dose of steel “hora merid: sumendum.”

Bass.
Antonio, I have at home a wife
Whom I love well—yet, her, to save your life,
I'd sacrifice most freely to the Jew.

Por. (aside)
Upon my life that's very kind of you!

Grat.
I too, sir, have a wife I richly treasure,
But I'd resign her with a deal of pleasure.

Ner. (aside)
And when she gets you home again, I guess,
You'll pay for your disinterestedness!

Ant.
I am prepared. (throws open his waistcoat) (Shylock approaches him)

Por.
Yet stay—it's clear as mud
This bond says not a word about the blood;
While taking more or less than a pound's weight,
Renders your life and fortunes confiscate!

Grat.
Our Nonpareil this time has missed his tip,
Now, Infidel, I have you on the hip. (Shylock drops his knife and scales, and stands completely crest-fallen)

Por.
I'm very sorry, Shylock, thus to bore you,
But fancy that slight flaw will slightly floor you.

Shy.
I feel that flaw's the ground flaw of my ruin.

Por.
You know exactly now, sir, what you're doing,
So slice away.

Shy. (aside)
I 'gin to doubt though whether
I hadn't better cut it altogether.

Grat.
I Nonpariel beyond all kind of question—
I'm much obliged to you for that suggestion—

Shy.
Pay thrice the bond and let the Christian go.

Por.
Your pardon, Shylock, not exactly so,
The law as yet another hold on thee:
Fair play's a jewel, as the Jew'll see!
Your life is forfeit.

Grat.
Hanging right will serve him! (to Shy.)
Now you are cowed yourself you'd better carve him.

Shy.
Give me my principal and I'll away?

Por.
Best carry out your principle and stay.
Nay, Shylock, though you choose forgive the debt,
You'd find the law had hold upon you yet.

Shy.
I say, young man, your practice rather sharp is.

Grat.
Not when he practises on the Jews-harp-ies.

Ant.
Shylock, although your conduct in this case,
In it's whole tenour has been thorough base,
On one condition I won't press the charge,
And you're at liberty to go at large.

Shy.
At large? I feel particularly small, (aside)
But thank my stars that I can go at all. (Shylock is going, but is prevented by the officers of the Court)

Ant.
There are two points though that I must insist on,
You'll shave your face and look more like a Christian,
And take your daughter to your arms again.

Shy.
Well, since you've got the upper hand it's plain,
I must knock under—and I will, I swear,
Receive my heiress and cut off my hair! (Jessica and Lorenzo come forward

Jess.
You pardon us, pa?

Shy.
Yes, howe'er distressing
To my paternal feelings, take my blessing.
Fathers, I think, will own my case a hard 'un,
She's done for pa, and now she asks her par-don.

Lor.
As for the money that we took in our flight, sir,
Here, in this bag, I think you'll find it right, sir. (gives purse; Shylock, Jessica, and Lorenzo converse apart)

Ant. (to Portia)
We're much beholden, sir, to your address,
For liberation from an awkward mess.

Por.
Though my address you're pleased, sir, to admire,
I'm getting tired of this male attire.
And, with your leave, will leave it off. (throws off the wig and gown and appears in her proper character)

Bass.
Why, lor—sure,
May I be hanged if I don't think it's Portia! (they embrace; Nerissa throws off her disguise)

Grat.
Nerissa? (they embrace)

Por.
We assumed these legal jetty coats
As travelling's inconvenient in petticoats,
But, since we've put them off, let's put off, pray,
All explanation to some future day.

Duke.
Then we're all friends?

Shy.
I trust so. (aside to audience)
It is clear
That I have diddled this Tribunal here,
That's t'wixt ourselves, not very hard to do,
But how shall I contrive to diddle you?
I'll touch your pity—bear in mind the fact,
If we have sinned—'tis but one trifling act.

Forgive us that—nay more—if you will deign
To look in on old Shylock e'er again,
Although reformed at present, you perhaps
May find him not unwilling to relapse.

Finale: Air.—“Non Piu Mesta.” Ner.
Some few misters cant abide to laugh
At what's good and Shakspearian,
Or give to what's too sad by half,
An end that's not a dreary 'un.
To such a Critic I would say,
As those who work most best can play,
So I'd invite them to reflect
That after all there may be
Such things as gravity incorrect,
And meet without the grave-y. Chorus.
Then why your feelings throw away
On a fictitious sorrow,
Nor weep for fancied woes to day
You may be real to-morrow. Lor. Jess. Shy. Por. Bass. Ant. Ner. Grat.

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