When apprized of this flaw, You never yet saw Such an awfully marked elongation of jaw As in Shylock, who cried, "Plesh ma heart! ish dat law?"— —Off went his three hats, And he look'd as the cats Do, whenever a mouse has escaped from their claw. "—Ish't the law?"—why the thing won't admit of a query— "No doubt of the fact, Only look at the act; Acto quinto, cap: tertio, Dogi Falieri— Nay, if, rather than cut, you'd relinquish the debt, The Law, Master Shy, has a hold on you yet. See Foscari's 'Statutes at large'—'If a Stranger A Citizen's life shall, with malice, endanger, The whole of his property, little or great, Shall go, on conviction, one half to the State, And one to the person pursued by his hate; And, not to create Any farther debate, The Doge, if he pleases, may cut off his pate.' So down on your marrowbones, Jew, and ask mercy! Defendant and Plaintiff are now wisy wersy."
What need to declare How pleased they all were At so joyful an end to so sad an affair? Or Bassanio's delight at the turn things had taken, His friend having saved, to the letter, his bacon?— How Shylock got shaved, and turn'd Christian, though late, To save a life-int'rest in half his estate?— How the dandified Lawyer, who'd managed the thing, Would not take any fee for his pains but a ring Which Mrs. Bassanio had giv'n to her spouse, With injunctions to keep it, on leaving the house?— How when he, and the spark Who appeared as his clerk, Had thrown off their wigs, and their gowns, and their jetty coats, There stood Nerissa and Portia in petticoats?— How they pouted, and flouted, and acted the cruel, Because Lord Bassanio had not kept his jewel?— How they scolded and broke out, Till, having their joke out, They kissed, and were friends, and, all blessing and blessed, Drove home by the light Of a moonshiny night, Like the one in which Troilus, the brave Trojan knight, Sat astride on a wall, and sigh'd after his Cressid?—
All this, if 'twere meet, I'd go on to repeat, But a story spun out so's by no means a treat, So, I'll merely relate what, in spite of the pains I have taken to rummage among his remains, No edition of Shakspeare, I've met with, contains; But, if the account which I've heard be the true one, We shall have it, no doubt, before long, in a new one.
In an MS., then, sold For its full weight in gold, And knock'd down to my friend, Lord Tomnoddy, I'm told It's recorded that Jessy, coquettish and vain, Gave her husband, Lorenzo, a good deal of pain; Being mildly rebuked, she levanted again, Ran away with a Scotchman, and, crossing the main, Became known by the name of the "Flower of Dumblane."
That Antonio, whose piety caused, as we've seen, Him to spit upon every old Jew's gaberdine, And whose goodness to paint All colours were faint, Acquired the well-merited prefix of "Saint," And the Doge, his admirer, of honour the fount, Having given him a patent, and made him a Count, He went over to England, got nat'ralis'd there, And espous'd a rich heiress in Hanover Square. That Shylock came with him, no longer a Jew, But converted, I think may be possibly true, But that Walpole, as these self-same papers aver, By changing the y in his name into er, Should allow him a fictitious surname to dish up, And in Seventeen-twenty-eight make him a Bishop, I cannot believe—but shall still think them two men Till some Sage proves the fact "with his usual acumen."
Moral.
From this tale of the Bard It's uncommonly hard If an Editor can't draw a moral.—'Tis clear, Then,—In ev'ry young wife-seeking Bachelor's ear A maxim, 'bove all other stories, this one drums, "Pitch Greek to old Harry, and stick to Conundrums!!"
To new-married Ladies this lesson it teaches, "You're 'no that far wrong' in assuming the breeches!"
Monied men upon 'Change, and rich Merchants it schools To look well to assets—nor play with edge-tools!
Last of all, this remarkable History shews men, What caution they need when they deal with old-clothesmen! So bid John and Mary To mind and be wary, And never let one of them come down the are'!