"The Court is prepared, the Lawyers are met, The Judges all ranged, a terrible show!" As Captain Macheath says,—and when one's in debt, The sight's as unpleasant a one as I know, Yet still not so bad after all, I suppose, As if, when one cannot discharge what one owes, They should bid people cut off one's toes or one's nose; Yet here, a worse fate, Stands Antonio, of late A Merchant, might vie e'en with Princes in state, With his waistcoat unbutton'd, prepared for the knife, Which, in taking a pound of flesh, must take his life; —On the other side Shylock, his bag on the floor, And three shocking bad hats on his head, as before, Imperturbable stands, As he waits their commands, With his scales and his great snicker-snee in his hands; —Between them, equipt in a wig, gown, and bands, With a very smooth face, a young dandified Lawyer, Whose air, ne'ertheless, speaks him quite a top-sawyer, Though his hopes are but feeble, Does his possible To make the hard Hebrew to mercy incline, And in lieu of his three thousand ducats take nine, Which Bassanio, for reasons we well may divine, Shows in so many bags all drawn up in a line. But vain are all efforts to soften him—still He points to the bond He so often has conn'd, And says in plain terms he'll be shot if he will.
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE.
So the dandified Lawyer, with talking grown hoarse, Says, "I can say no more—let the law take its course."
Just fancy the gleam of the eye of the Jew, As he sharpen'd his knife on the sole of his shoe From the toe to the heel, And grasping the steel, With a business-like air was beginning to feel Whereabouts he should cut, as a butcher would veal, When the dandified Judge puts a spoke in his wheel. "Stay, Shylock," says he, "Here's one thing—you see This bond of yours gives you here no jot of blood! —the words are 'A pound of flesh,'—that's clear as mud— Slice away, then, old fellow—but mind!—if you spill One drop of his claret that's not in your bill, I'll hang you like Haman!—by Jingo I will!"