“These truces with the infidels,” he exclaimed,
without caring how suddenly he interrupted the stately
Templar, “make an old man of me!”
“Go to, knave, how so?” said Cedric, his
features prepared to receive favourably the expected
jest.
“Because,” answered Wamba, “I remember
three of them in my day, each of which was to endure
for the course of fifty years; so that, by computation,
I must be at least a hundred and fifty years old.”
“I will warrant you against dying of old age,
however,” said the Templar, who now recognised
his friend of the forest; “I will assure you
from all deaths but a violent one, if you give such
directions to wayfarers, as you did this night to the
Prior and me.”
“How, sirrah!” said Cedric, “misdirect
travellers? We must have you whipt; you are at
least as much rogue as fool.”
“I pray thee, uncle,” answered the Jester,
“let my folly, for once, protect my roguery.
I did but make a mistake between my right hand and
my left; and he might have pardoned a greater, who
took a fool for his counsellor and guide.”
Conversation was here interrupted by the entrance
of the porter’s page, who announced that there
was a stranger at the gate, imploring admittance and
hospitality,
“Admit him,” said Cedric, “be he
who or what he may;—–a night like
that which roars without, compels even wild animals
to herd with tame, and to seek the protection of man,
their mortal foe, rather than perish by the elements.
Let his wants be ministered to with all care—–look
to it, Oswald.”
And the steward left the banqueting hall to see the
commands of his patron obeyed.
Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs,
dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed
with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject
to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed
and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian
is? Merchant of Venice
Oswald, returning, whispered into the ear of his master,
“It is a Jew, who calls himself Isaac of York;
is it fit I should marshall him into the hall?”
“Let Gurth do thine office, Oswald,” said
Wamba with his usual effrontery; “the swineherd
will be a fit usher to the Jew.”
“St Mary,” said the Abbot, crossing himself,
“an unbelieving Jew, and admitted into this
presence!”
“A dog Jew,” echoed the Templar, “to
approach a defender of the Holy Sepulchre?”
“By my faith,” said Wamba, “it would
seem the Templars love the Jews’ inheritance
better than they do their company.”
“Peace, my worthy guests,” said Cedric;
“my hospitality must not be bounded by your
dislikes. If Heaven bore with the whole nation
of stiff-necked unbelievers for more years than a layman
can number, we may endure the presence of one Jew for
a few hours. But I constrain no man to converse
or to feed with him. —–Let him have
a board and a morsel apart,—–unless,”
he said smiling, “these turban’d strangers
will admit his society.”
