Sheva. Because I am angry with myself for being such a baby, a child, a chicken. Your people do not love me; what business have I to love your people? I am a Jew; my fathers, up to Abraham, all were Jews. Merciless mankind, how have you persecuted them! My family is all gone, it is extinct; my very name will vanish out of memory when I am dead. I pray you, pardon me, I am very old, and apt to weep; I pray you, pardon me. Char. I am more disposed to subscribe to your tears, than to find fault with them. Sheva. Well, well, well, 'tis natural for me to weep when I reflect upon their sufferings and my own. Sir, you shall know --but I won't tell you my sad story: you are young and tenderhearted, it is all written down-you shall find it with my papers at my death. Char. Sir, at your death? Sheva. Yes.-Sure I must die some time or other. Though you have saved my life once, you cannot save it always. I did tell you, Mr. Ratcliffe, I would show you my heart. Sir, it is a heart to do you all possible goot whilst I live, and to pay you the debt of gratitude, when I die. I believe it is the only one I owe to the pure benevolence of my fellow creatures. Char. I am sorry you have found mankind so ungrateful. Sheva. Not so, not so; I might perhaps have found them grateful, if I had let them know their benefactor. I did relieve their wants, but I did not court their thanks: they did eat my bread, and hooted at me for a miser. (Enter Jabal.) Jabal. A gentleman, who says his name is Bertram, waits to speak with you. I fancy he comes to borrow money, for he looks wondrous melancholy. Sheva. Hold your tongue, knave; what is it to you what he comes for? Jabal. I'm sure he does not come for a dinner, for he has not brought it with him. Sheva. I pray you, Mr. Ratcliffe, pass out that way. I would not have you both meet. (Exit Ratcliffe.) Admit Mr. Bertram. (Exit Jabal.) (Re-enter Jabal, introducing Frederick, then crosses behind, and exit.) Sheva. You are welcome, Mr. Bertram: our business may quickly be dispatched. You want three hundred pounds; I have made shift to scrape that sum together, and it is ready for you. Fred. Alas, Sheva! since last I saw you, I am so totally undone, that it would now be robbery to take your money. My father has expelled me from his house. Sheva. Why? for what cause? Fred. I have married Sheva. Well, that is natural enough. Sheva. So did he without yours. What besides ? Fred. Married a wife without a farthing. Sheva. Ah! that is very silly, I must say. Fred. You could not say so, did you know the lady. Sheva. That may be; but I do not know the lady you have not named her to me. Sheva. Ah! to Miss Ratcliffe ? Is it so? And she is goot and lovely; but she has no moneys; and that has made your fader very angry with you? Fred. Furious, irreconcilable. Sheva. Why, truly, moneys is a goot thing; and your fader is not the only man in England that does think so. I confess I am very much of his mind in respect to moneys. Fred. I know you are; therefore, keep your money, and good morning to you. Sheva. Hold, hold, be not so hasty! If I do love my moneys, it may be because I have it in my power to tender them to you. Fred. But I have said I never can repay you, whilst you are in this world. Sheva. Perhaps I shall be content to be repaid when I am out of it-I believe I have a pretty many post obits of that sort upon the file. Fred. I do not rightly understand you. Sheva. Then pray have a little patience till I am better understood.-Sir Stephen had a match for you in view? Fred. He had. Sheva. What was the lady's fortune? Sheva. That is a goot round sum; but you did not love her, and you do love your wife. Fred. As dearly as you love your money. Sheva. A little better, we will hope, for I do lend my moneys to my friend. For instance, take these bills; three hundred pounds. What ails you? They are goot bills, they are bank-oh! that I had a sack full of them! They will hire you very pretty lodging, and you will be very happy with your pretty wife. I pray you, take them. Why will you be so hard with a poor Jew, as to refuse him a goot bargain, when you know he loves to lay his moneys out to profit and advantage? Fred. Are you in earnest? You astonish me. Sheva. I am a little astonished too, for I did never see a man so backward to take moneys: you are not like your fader. I am afraid you are a little proud. Fred. You shall not say so. I accept your generous tender. Sheva. I wish it was ten thousand pounds, then your goot fader would be well content. Fred. Yes; of two equal fortunes, I believe he would be good enough to let me take my choice. Sheva. Oh! that is very kind: he would give you ference when he had none himself. the pre Fred. Just so; but what acknowledgment shall I give you for these bills? Sheva. None, none; I do acknowledge them myself with very great pleasures in serving you, and no small pains in parting from them. I pray you, make yourself and pretty wife comfortable with the moneys, and I will comfort myself, as well as I can, without them. Ah! poor Sheva! when thou art a beggar-man, who will take pity of thee?-Well, well, no matter! Now I must take a little walk about my business-I pray you, pardon my unpoliteness. Fred. No apology: I am gone. Farewell, Sheva! Thou a miser! thou art a prince! (Exit.) Sheva. Jabal! open the door. (Exit.) Scene 3.-Sir Stephen Bertram's House. (Enter Sir Stephen Bertram, and Saunders.) Sir S. Well, Saunders, what news have you been able to collect of my undutiful son? Saun. I have not seen Mr. Bertram, but I am told he has settled himself in very handsome lodgings, and is gone to remove his lady to them. Sir S. His lady, do you call her? Can you find no fitter term? Where should he get the means to settle? He was not furnished with them by me; who else will do it? If he attempts to raise money upon expectancies, be it at their peril who are fools enough to trust him: no prudent man will be his bubble. If I were sure that was his practice, I should hold it matter of conscience to advertise against his debts. Saun. Perhaps there may be some persons in the world, who think you will not always hold out against an only son. Sir S. Then let those persons smart for their opinion. They little know the feelings of an injured father: they cannot calculate my hopes, my disappointments, my regret! He might have had a lady with an ample fortune. A wife without a shilling is—but what avails complaint? Could you learn nothing further, who supplies him, who holds him up? Saun. I hear that he had money of your broker, Sheva. Sir S. That must be false intelligence. He will as soon make gold by transmutation, as wring it from the gripe of that old usurer. No, no, Sheva is too wary, too much a Jew, to help him with a shilling. Saun. Yet I was so informed by his own servant, Jabal. He says, Mr. Bertram came to old Sheva's house by appoint. ment; that he overheard their whole conversation, in which your son very honorably stated the utter ruin your displeasure had brought upon him, and would have refused the money, but that old Sheva forced it upon him. Sir S. It mocks all belief; it only proves, that Sheva, the most inveterate miser in existence, has a fellow Jew for his servant, one of the completest liars in creation. Saun. I am apt to give him credit for the fact, notwithstanding. Sir S. Then give me leave to say, you have more faith than most men living. Was I to give so much credit, Mr. Saunders, I should soon stop. Saun. I am not quite so fixed in my persuasion of old Sheva's character, as you are. In his dealings, all the world knows he is punctually honest; no man's character stands higher, in the Alley; and his servant tells me, though he starves himself, he is secretly very charitable to others. Sir S. Yes, this you may believe, if you are disposed to take one Jew's word for another Jew's character. I am obstinate against both; and if he has supplied the money, as I am sure it must be on usurious principles, as soon as ever I have the old miser in my reach, I will wring either the truth from his lips, or the life out of his carcass. (Enter Sheva.) Sheva. How does my worthy master? I am your very humble servant, goot Sir Stephen Bertram. I have a little pri vate business to impart to you, with your goot leave, and if your leisure serves. Sir S. Leave us, if you please. (Exit Saunders.) Sheva. Aha! I am very much fatigued. There is a great throng and press in the offices at the Bank, and I am aged and feeble. Sir S. Hold, sir. Before I welcome you within these doors, or suffer you to sit down in my presence, I demand to know, explicitly, and without prevarication, if you have furnished my son with money secretly, and without my leave? Sheva. If I do lend, ought I not to lend it in secret? If I do not ask your leave, Sir Stephen, may I not dispose of my own moneys according to my own liking? But if it is a crime, I do wish to ask you who is my accuser? that, I believe, is justice every where; and in your happy country I do think it is the law likewise. Sir S. Very well, sir; you shall have both law and justice. The information comes from your own servant, Jabal. you controvert it? Can Sheva. I do presume to say, my servant ought not to report his master's secrets; but I will not say he has not spoken the truth. Sir S. Then you confess the fact. Sheva. I humbly think there is no call for that; you have the information from my footboy. I do not deny it. Sir S. And the sum— Sheva. I do not talk of the sum. Sir Stephen, that is not my practice; neither, under favor, is my footboy my cashier. If he be a knave, and listen at my key-hole, the more shame his; I am not in the fault. Sir S. Not in the fault! Wretch, miser, usurer! You never yet let loose a single guinea from your gripe, but with a view of doubling it at the return. I know what you are. Sheva. Indeed! it is more than I will say for myself. I pray you, goot Sir Stephen, take a little time to know my heart, before you rob me of my reputation. I am a Jew, a poor defenseless Jew; that is enough to make me miser, usurer. Alas! I cannot help it. Sir S. No matter you are caught in your own trap. I tell you now, my son is ruined, disinherited, undone. One consolation is, that you have lost your money. Sheva. If that be a consolation, you are very welcome to it. If my moneys are lost, my motives are not. |