Riv. Why this is mending matters with a witnels! And fo you think becaufe I am not legally bound, I am under no neceffity of keeping my word! Sir Harry, laws were never made for men of honor; they want no bond but the recitude of their own fentiments; and laws are of no use but to bind the villains of fociety.

Sir Har. Well! but my dear Colonel, if you have no regard for me, fhew fome little regard for your daughter.

Riv. I fhew the greateft regard for my daughter by giving her to a man of honor, and I must not be infulted with any further repetition of your propofals.

Sir Har. Infult you, Colonel? is the offer of my alliance an infult? Is my readinefs to make what fettlements you think proper

Riv. Sir Harry I should confider the offer of a kingdom an infult, if it were to be purchased by the violation of my word. Befides tho my daughter fhall never go a beggar to the arms of her husband, I would rather fee her happy than rich, and if he has enough to provide handfomely for a young family, and fomething to fpare for the exigencies of a worthy friend, I fhall think her as affluent as if the was miftrefs of Mexico.

Sir Har. Well, Colonel, I have done; But I believeRiv. Well, Sir Harry, and as our conference is done, we will, if you pleafe retire to the ladies. I fhall always be glad of our acquaintance, though I cannot receive you as a fon in law, for a union of intereft I look upon as a union of difhonor, and confider marriage for money, at best but a legal proffitution.

Scene between SHYLOCK and TUBAL.*
OW

Sby. How now, Tubal !

daughter ?

what news from Genoa ? Have you heard any thing of my backfliding

Tub. I often came where I heard of her, but could not End her.

Shy. Why, there, there, there, a` diamond gone that coft me two thousand ducats at Frankfort! The curfe never fell upon the nation till now! I never felt it before. Two thousand ducats in that and other precious jewels! I wifh

* Shylock had sent Tal after his daughter, who had cloped his house. Antonio was a merchant hated by Shylock.

the lay dead at my feet! No news of them! and I know not what was spent in the fearch. Lofs upon lofs. The thief gone with so much, and fo much to find the thief; and no fatisfaction, no revenge; no ill luck stirring but. what lights on my fhoulders.

Tub. O yes, other men have ili luck too, Antonio, as L heard in Genoa--

Sby Interrupting him) What, has he had ill luck? Tub. Has had a hip caft away coming from Tripoli. Shy. Thank fortune? Is it true? Is it true?

Tub. I fpoke with fome of the failors that efcaped from

the wreck.

Shy. I thank you, good Tubal.

Good news! Good

news! What, in Genoa, you spoke with them.

Tub. Your daughther, as I heard, fpent twenty ducats in one night.

Sby. You ftick a dagger in me, Tubal. I never fhall fee my gold again. Twenty Ducats in one night! Twenty ducats! O father Abraham !

Tub. There came feveral of Antonio's creditors in my company to Venice, who fay he cannot but break.

Sby. I am glad on't. I'll plague him ;. I'll torture him; I am glad on't.

Tub. One of them fhewed me a ring he had of your daughter for a monkey.

Sby. Out upon her; you torture me, Tubal! It was my ruby. I would not have given it for as many monkies as could ftand together upon the Rialta. Tub. Antonio is certainly undone. Sby. Ay, ay, there is fome comfort in that. bal, engage an officer. Tell him to be ready: venged on Antonio :: I'll wath my hands to the hss heart's blood;

Fub. SY

JUBA and SYPHAX.

Go, Tu 1'll be reelbows in

YPHAX, I joy to meet thee thus alone.
I have obferv'd of late thy looks are fall'n,
O'er caft with gloomy cares and difcontent :
Then, tell me, Syphax, I conjure thee, tell me
What are the thoughts that knit thy brow in frowns,
And turn thy eyes thus coldly on thy prince?

T2

Shyp. Tis not my talent to conceal my thoughts,
Or carry fmiles, or funfhine in my face,
When difcontent fits heavy at my heart:

I have not fo much of the Roman in me.

Jub. Why doft thou caft out fuch ungenerous terms,
Against the lords and fovereigns of the world ?
Doft not thou fee maskind fall down before them?
And own the force of their fuperior virtue ?

Is there a nation in the wilds of Afric,

Amidit our barren rocks and burning fands,
That does not tremble at the Roman name ?

Syph. Gods! where's the worth that fets this people up Above your own Numidia's taway fons ?

Do they with tougher finews bend the bow ?
Or flies the javelin fwifter to its mark,
Launch'd with the vigor of a Roman arm ?
Who like our active African inftructs

The fiery fteed, and trains him to his hand?
Or guides in troops the embattled elephant,
Laden with war ? Thefe, thefe are arts, my prince,
In which your Zama does not ftoop to Rome.

Jub. Thefe all are virtees of a meaner rank,
Perfections that are placed in bones and nerves
A Roman foul is bent on higher views;
To civilize the rude unpolifi'd world;
To lay it under the restraint of laws ;
To make man mild, and fociable to man ;
To cultivate the wild-licentious favage
With wifdom, difcipline, and liberal arts;
The establishments of life; virtues like thefe
Make human nature shine, reform the foul,
And brake our fierce barbarians into men.

Sybp. Patience, juft heavens!--Excufe an old man's What are thofe wonderous civilizing arts,

This Roman polith, and this fimooth behaviour,
That render man thus tractable and tame ?
Are they not only to difguife our paffions,
To fet our looks at variance with our thoughts,
To check the ftarts and fallies of the foul,
And break off all its commerce with the tongue ?
In short, to change us into other creatures,
Than what our nature or the Gods defign'd us.

[warmth.

Jub. To strike thee dumb, turn up thy eyes to Cato! There may'st thou fee to what a godlike height,

The Roman virtues lift up mortal man.

While good, and juft, and anxious for his friends,
He's ftill feverely bent against himself;

Renouncing fleep and reft, and food, and ease,
He strives with thirst and hunger, toil and heat;
And when his fortune fets before him all
The pomp and pleasure which his foul can wifh,
His rigid virtue will except of none..

Sypb. Believe me, prince, there's not an African
That traverfes our vaft Numidian defarts
In queft of prey and lives upon his bow,
But better practises thefe boafted virtues :
Coarfe are his meals, the fortune of the chafe,
Amidst the running ftream he flakes his thirst,
Toils all the day, and at the approach of night,
On the firft friendly bank he throws him down,
Or refts his head upon a rock till morn:
Then rifes fresh, purfùes the wonted game,
And if the following day he chanc'd to find
A new repaft, or an untafted fpring,
Bleffes his Aars, and thinks it luxury.

Jub. Thy prejudices, Syphax, won't difcern
What virtues grow from ignorance, and what from choice,
Nor how the hero differs from the brute.

But, grant that others could, with equal glory,
Look down on pleafures and the baits of fenfe;
Where fhall we find the man that bears affliction,
Great and majeftic in his griefs like Cato?

Heavens with what Atrength, what fteadiness of mind,
He triumphs in the midft of all his fufferings?

How does he rife again a load of woes,

And thank the gods that threw the weight upon him!
Syph. 'Tis pride, rank pride and haughtinefs of foul;
I think the Romans call it floicifm.

Had not your royal father thought fo highly
Of Roman virtue and of Cato's caufe,
He had not failen by a flave's hand inglorious s
Nor would his flaughter'd army now have lain
On Afric's fands, disfigured by their wounds,.
To gorge the wolves and vultures of Numidia.

Jub Why doft thou call my forrows up afresh:
My father's name brings tears into mine eyes.
Syph. Oh, that you'd profit by your father's ills!
Jub. What wouldst thou have ine do?
Sypb. Abandon Cato.

[fuch a loft Jub. Syphax, I fhould be more than twice an orphan by Syph. Ay, there's the tie that binds you!

You long to call him father.

Marcia's charms

Work in your heart, unfeen, and plead for Cato.

No wonder you are deaf to all 1 fay.

Jub. Syphax, your zeal becomes importunate;
I've hitherto permitted it to rave

And talk at large; but learn to keep it in,
Left it should take more freedom than I'll give it.
Sypb. Sir, your great father never used me thus..
Alas! he's dead! but can you e'er forget
The tender forrows and the pangs of nature,
The fond embraces, and repeated bleffings,
Which you drew from him in your last farewell ?
Still muft I cherish, the dear, fad remembrance,
At once to torture and to please my foul.
The good old king, at parting, wrung my hand,.
(His eyes brimful of tears) then fighing cry'd;
Prithee be careful of my fon!-His grief
Swelled up fo high he could not utter more..
Jub. Alas, the ftory melts away my foul !
The beft of fathers! how fhall 1 discharge
The gratitude and duty which I owe him?
Sypb. By laying up his counfels in your heart.
Jub. His counfels bade me yield to thy directions:
Then, Syphax, chide me in feverest terms;
Vent all thy paffion, and I'll Rand its fhock,
Calm and unruffed as a fummer's fea,

When not a breath of wind flies o'er its furface.

Syph. Alas! my prince, I'll guide you to your fafety.

Jub. I do believe thou would'ft; but tell me how?

Syph. Fly from the fate of Cæfar's foes.

Jub. My father fcorn'd to do it.

Syph. And therefore dy❜d.

Jub. Better to die ten thoufand deaths,

Than wound my honor.

Syph. Rather fay your love.