_Christie._ "Poorsha keepit her man but ae hoor till they were united, an' then sent him wi' a puckle o' her ain siller to Veeneece, and Antonio--think o' that, lassies--pairted on their wedding-day."
_Lizzy Johnstone, a Fishwife, aged 12._ "Hech! hech! it's lamentable."
_Jean Carnie._ "I'm saying, mairriage is quick wark, in some pairts--here there's an awfu' trouble to get a man."
_A young Fishwife._ "Ay, is there."
_Omnes._ "Haw! haw! haw!" (The fish-wife hides.)
_Christie._ "Fill your taupsels, lads and lasses, and awa to Veneece."
_Sandy Liston (sturdily)._ "I'll no gang to sea this day."
_Christie._ "Noo, we are in the hall o' judgment. Here are set the judges, awfu' to behold; there, on his throne, presides the Juke."
_Flucker._ "She's awa to her Ennglish."
_Lizzy Johnstone._ "Did we come to Veeneece to speak Scoetch, ye useless fule?"
_Christie._ "Here, pale and hopeless, but resigned, stands the broken mairchant, Antonio; there, wi scales and knives, and revenge in his murderin' eye, stands the crewel Jew Shylock."
"Aweel," muttered Sandy, considerately, "I'll no mak a disturbance on a wedding day."
_Christie._ "They wait for Bell--I dinna mind his mind--a laerned lawyer, ony way; he's sick, but sends ane mair laerned still, and, when this ane comes, he looks not older nor wiser than mysel."
_Flucker._ "No possible!"
_Christie._ "Ye needna be sae sarcy, Flucker, for when he comes to his wark he soon lets 'em ken--runs his een like lightening ower the boend.
'This bond's forfeit. Is Antonio not able to dischairge the money?' 'Ay!' cries Bassanio, 'here's the sum thrice told.' Says the young judge in a bit whisper to Shylock, 'Shylock, there's thrice thy money offered thee.
Be mairceful,' says he, out loud. 'Wha'll mak me?' says the Jew body.
'Mak ye!' says he; 'maircy is no a thing ye strain through a sieve, mon; it droppeth like the gentle dew fra' heaven upon the place beneath; it blesses him that gives and him that taks; it becomes the king better than his throne, and airthly power is maist like God's power when maircy seasons justice.'"
_Robert Haw, Fisherman._ "Dinna speak like that to me, onybody, or I shall gie ye my boat, and fling my nets intil it, as ye sail awa wi' her."
_Jean Carnie._ "Sae he let the puir deevil go. Oh! ye ken wha could stand up against siccan a shower o' Ennglish as thaat."
_Christie._ "He just said, 'My deeds upon my heed. I claim the law,' says he; 'there is no power in the tongue o' man to alter me. I stay here on my boend.'"
_Sandy Liston._ "I hae sat quiet!--quiet I hae sat against my will, no to disturb Jamie Drysel's weddin'; but ye carry the game ower far, Shylock, my lad. I'll just give yon bluidy-minded urang-utang a hidin', and bring Tony off, the gude, puir-spirited creature. And him, an' me, an'
Bassanee, an' Porshee, we'll all hae a gill thegither."
He rose, and was instantly seized by two of the company, from whom he burst furiously, after a struggle, and the next moment was heard to fall clean from the top to the bottom of the stairs. Flucker and Jean ran out; the rest appealed against the interruption.
_Christie._ "Hech! he's killed. Sandy Liston's brake his neck."
"What aboot it, lassy?" said a young fisherman; "it's Antonio I'm feared for; save him, lassy, if poessible; but I doot ye'll no get him clear o' yon deevelich heathen.
"Auld Sandy's cheap sairved," added he, with all the indifference a human tone could convey.
"Oh, Cursty," said Lizzie Johnstone, with a peevish accent, "dinna break the bonny yarn for naething."
_Flucker (returning)._ "He's a' reicht."
_Christie._ "Is he no dead?"
_Flucker._ "Him deed? he's sober--that's a' the change I see."
_Christie._ "Can he speak? I'm asking ye."
_Flucker._ "Yes, he can speak."
_Christie._ "What does he say, puir body?"
_Flucker._ "He sat up, an' sought a gill fra' the wife--puir body!"
_Christie._ "Hech! hech! he was my pupil in the airt o' sobriety!--aweel, the young judge rises to deliver the sentence of the coort. Silence!" thundered Christie. A lad and a lass that were slightly flirting were discountenanced.
_Christie._ "'A pund o' that same mairchant's flesh is thine! the coort awards it, and the law does give it.'"
_A young Fishwife._ "There, I thoucht sae; he's gaun to cut him, he's gaun to cut him; I'll no can bide." _(Exibat.)_
_Christie._ "There's a fulish goloshen. 'Have by a doctor to stop the blood.'--'I see nae doctor in the boend,' says the Jew body."
_Flucker._ "Bait your hook wi' a boend, and ye shall catch yon carle's saul, Satin, my lad."
_Christie (with dismal pathos)._ "Oh, Flucker, dinna speak evil o' deegneties--that's maybe fishing for yoursel' the noo!---'An' ye shall cut the flesh frae off his breest.'--'A sentence,' says Shylock, 'come, prepare.'"
Christie made a dash _en Shylock,_ and the company trembled.
_Christie._ "'Bide a wee,' says the judge, 'this boend gies ye na a drap o' bluid; the words expressly are, a pund o' flesh!'"
_(A Dramatic Pause.)_
_Jean Carnie (drawing her breath)._ "That's into your mutton, Shylock"
_Christie (with dismal pathos)._ "Oh, Jean! yon's an awfu' voolgar exprassion to come fra' a woman's mooth."
"Could ye no hae said, 'intil his bacon'?" said Lizzie Johnstone, confirming the remonstrance.
_Christie._ "'Then tak your boend, an' your pund o' flesh, but in cutting o' 't, if thou dost shed one drop of Christian bluid, thou diest!'"
_Jean Carnie._ "Hech!"
_Christie._ "'Thy goods are by the laws Veneece con-fis-cate, confiscate!'"
Then, like an artful narrator, she began to wind up the story more rapidly.
