(_Starts to walk off. Enter Jessica in disordered dress and manner._) _Jessica_ Father! _Shylock_ Back! Away! Dare not to touch me. _Jessica_ A word, a single word and I will go. _Shylock_ (_trying to wrest his arm from her grasp_) Let be I say. _Jessica_ Nay, but I cannot leave. I know not how much time I have to live. I marvel that this body thin and frail Has so long stood th' innumerable shocks Which in my married life it hath endured. Death must be near, it stretcheth out its arms, And I in answer have extended mine. _Shylock_ Come not to me for money. Had I all The wealth of Sheba's mines I would not pay A mite to save thy fallen soul from hell. The potter's field may have thy rotten bones And owls and jackals pray for thy repose. _Jessica_ 'Tis not for gold I beg but for thy love. I threw it from me like an orange sucked And turned to grasp the shining fruit that he, Lorenzo, pictured to mine eyes. Ah me, How bitter, hard and worthless to the taste Hath been that substitute. The marriage moon Had scarce grown full before my body bore The marks of coward blows. _Shylock_ Ha! Ha! That's well. _Jessica_ I have not known a single kindly word, I scarce have heard him call me by my name Since less than four weeks after we were wed. _Shylock_ (_gloatingly rubbing his hands_) Hm! _Jessica_ Oh father, why was I not told before That we and all our people are accurst; That those to whom we give our love and trust Curse us and loathe us with a dreadful hate, A hate that neither reason can assuage Nor conduct make amends for. Awful fate, That makes the very children of the street With circle eyes point at us in contempt, And people who have never heard our names Thirst for our blood and menace us with death! _Shylock_ So thou didst think a priestly comedy Could make Lorenzo love his Jewish wife? _Jessica_ I could have died for him. For him I fled And stole your wealth and helped your enemies. Why could he not have been a little kind? _Shylock_ (_chuckling_) Come tell me how he beat you. Tell me that. _Jessica_ Have pity, father. _Shylock_ Tell me how he swore.