Old Shalnassar sits on the bench near the left doorway, wrapped in a cloak. Before him stands a young man, the impoverished merchant.
Shalnass.
Were I as rich as you regard me—truly
I am not so, quite far from that, my friend—
I could not even then grant this postponement,
Nay, really, friend, and solely for your sake:
For too indulgent creditors, by Heaven,
Are debtors' ruin.
Debtor.
Hear me now, Shalnassar!
Shalnass.
No more. I can hear nothing. Yea, my deafness
But grows apace with all your talking. Go!
Go home, I say: think how you may retrench.
I know your house, 'tis overrun with vermin,
I mean the servants. Curtail the expenses
Your wife has caused: they are most unbecoming
For your position. What? I am not here
To give you counsel. Home with you, I tell you.
Debtor.
I wanted to, my heart detains me here,
This heart that swells with pain. Go home? To me
The very door of my own house is hateful.
I cannot enter, but some creditor
Would block my way.
Shalnass.
Well, what a fool you were.
Go home and join your lovely wife, be off!
Go home! Bring offspring into life. Then starve!
[He claps his hands. The Armenian slave
comes up the stairs. Shalnassar whispers
with him, without heeding the other.]
Debtor.
Not fifty florins have I in the world.
You spoke of servants? Aye, one withered crone
To carry water, that is all. And she
How long? No wretch abandoned, fed with alms,
Feels misery like mine: for I have known
The sweets of wealth. Through every night I slept,
Contentment round my head, and sweet was morning.
But hush! she loves me still, and so my failure
Is bright and golden. O, she is my wife!
Shalnass.
I beg you, go, the lamps will have to burn
So long as you are standing round. Go with him.
Here are the keys.
Debtor (overcoming his fear).
A word, good Shalnassar!
I had not wished to beg you for reprieve.