round his neck, and others again eagerly stripped him of some part of his dress. Halfnaked, and thus manacled, they hurled him into the lake, there about twelve feet deep, drowning his last death-shriek with a loud halloo of vindictive triumph; over which, however, the yell of mortal agony was distinctly heard. The heavy burden splashed in the dark-blue waters of the lake, and the Highlanders, with their pole-axes and swords, watched an instant, to guard lest, extricating himself from the load to which he was attached, he might have struggled to regain the shore. But the knot had been securely bound; the victim sank without effort: the waters, which his fall had disturbed, settled calmly over him, and the unit of that life, for which he had pleaded so strongly, was for ever withdrawn from the sum of human existence.

SCOTT.

CLVI.

SHYLOCK, BASSANIO, AND ANTONIO.

Shylock.

Three thousand ducats,-well?

Bassanio,

Ay, sir, for three months.

Shylock.

For three months,-well?

Bassanio.

For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall

be bound.

Shylock.

Antonio shall become bound,-well?

Bassanio.

May you stead me? Will you pleasure me? shall I know your answer?

Shylock.

Three thousand ducats, for three months, and Antonio bound.

Oh, no, no, no, no;—my meaning, in saying he is a good man, is, to have you to understand me, that he is sufficient: yet his means are in supposition: he hath an argosy bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I understand moreover, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England;-and other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. But ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats and water-rats, land-thieves and

water-thieves-I mean pirates; and then, there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks! The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient: three thousand ducats ;-I think I may take his bond. Bassanio.

Be assured you may.

Shylock.

I will be assured I may; and, that I may be assured, I will bethink me: May I speak with Antonio?

Bassanio.

If it please you to dine with us?

Shylock.

Yes, to smell pork-to eat of the habitation which your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into! I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following --but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you. What news on the Rialto? -Who is he comes here?

Bassanio.

[Exit hastily.

This is Signior Antonio.

Shylock.

How like a fawning publican he looks! I hate him, for he is a Christian;

But more, for that, in low simplicity,

He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
He hates our sacred nation; and he rails,
Even there where merchants most do congregate,
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,
Which he calls interest! Cursed be my tribe,
If I forgive him!
[Aside.

[Re-enter Bassanio with Antonio.]
Bassanio.

Shylock, do you hear?

Shylock.

I am debating of my present store; And, by the near guess of my memory, I cannot instantly raise up the gross

Of full three thousand ducats: What of that? Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe,

Will furnish me: But soft; how many months Do you desire?—Rest you you fair, good signior.

[To Antonio. Your worship was the last man in our mouths.

Antonio.

Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow,
By taking, nor by giving of excess,

Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend,
I'll break a custom :-Is he yet possess'd
How much you would?

Shylock.

Ay, ay, three thousand ducats.

Antonio.

And for three months.

Shylock.

I had forgot,-three months, you told me so. Well then, your bond; and let me see,-But hear you;

Methought you said, you neither lend nor borrow Upon advantage?

Antonio.

I do never use it.

Shylock.

Three thousand ducats!-'tis a good round

sum.

Three months from twelve-then let me see

the rate.

Antonio.

Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you?

Shylock.

Signior Antonio, many a time and oft
On the Rialto have you rated me
About my moneys, and my usances:

Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe:
You call me―misbeliever! cut-throat! dog!
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,

And all for use of that which is mine own!
Well, then, it now appears you need my help:
Go to, then; you come to me, and you say,
Shylock, we would have moneys—you say so
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur
Over your threshold:-moneys is your suit!