But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee.
And, Launcelot, foon at fupper fhalt thou fee
Lorenzo, who is thy new mafter's gueft,
Give him this letter; do it fecretly,

And fo farewel: I would not have my father.
See me talk with thee.

Laun. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue; moft beautiful Pagan, moft fweet Jew! if a Christian did not playthe knave and get thee, I am much deceiv'd. But, adieu! these foolish drops do fomewhat drown my manly fpirit: adieu!

Jef. Farewel, good Launcelot.
Alack, what heinous fin is it in me,
To be afham'd to be my father's child?
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo,
If thou keep promife, I fhall end this ftrife,
Become a Chriftian, and thy loving wife.

SCENE V. The Street..

[Exit..

[Exit.

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Solarino, and Salanio.

Lor. Nay, we will flink away in fupper-time, difguife us at my lodging, and return all in an hour. Gra. We have not made good preparation.

Sal. We have not fpoke us yet of torch-bearers. Sola. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly ordered, And better in my mind not undertook.

Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock, we have two hours To furnish us. Friend Launcelot, what's the news?

Enter Launcelot, with a letter.

Laun. An it fhall please you to break up this, it shall feem to fignify.

Lor. I know the hand; in faith, 'tis a fair hand; And whiter than the paper it writ on,

Is the fair hand that writ.

Gra. Love-news, in faith.

Laun. By your leave, Sir.

Lor. Whither goest thou?

Laun. Marry, Sir, to bid my old mafter the Jew to

fup to-night with my new mafter the Chriftian,

Lor. Hold, here, take this; tell gentle Jeffica, I will not fail her; fpeak it privately.

Go.— Gentlemen, will you prepare for this masque to-night?

I am provided of a torch-bearer.

[Exit Laun.

Sal. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it ftrait.

Sola. And fo will I.

Lor. Meet me, and Gratiano,

At Gratiano's lodging fome hour hence.
Sal. 'Tis good, we do fo.

[Exit.

Lor. I muft needs tell thee all; fhe hath directed,

Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jeffica?

How I fhall take her from her father's house,
What gold and jewels fhe is furnish'd with,
What page's fuit the hath in readiness.
If e'er the Jew her father come to heav'n,
It will be for his gentle daughter's fake;
And never dare misfortune cross her foot,
Unless she doth it under this excufe,
That she is issue to a faithlefs Jew.

Come, go with me; perufe this, as thou goeft;
Fair Jeffica fhall be my torch-bearer.

SCENE VI.

[Exeunt

Shylock's boufe.

Enter Shylock and Launcelot.

Shy. Well, thou shalt fee, thy eyes fhall be thy judge,

The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio.
What, Jeffica!thou shalt not gormandize,
As thou haft done with me-what, Jeffica !—
And fleep and fnore, and rend apparel out.
Why, Jeffica! I fay.

Laun. Why, Jeffica!

Shy. Who bids thee call? I did not bid thee call. Laun. Your Worship was wont to tell me, that I could do nothing without bidding.

Enter Jeffica.

Jef. Call you? what is your will?

Shy. I am bid forth to fupper, Jeffica;

There are my keys. But wherefore fhould. I go?

I am not bid for love; they flatter me:
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal Chriftian. Jeffica, my girl,
Look to my houfe; I am right loth to go;
There is fome ill a-brewing towards my reft,
For I did dream of money-bags to-night.

Laun. I befeech you, Sir, go; my young mafter doth expect your reproach.

Shy. So do I his.

Laun. And they have confpired together, I will not fay you shall fee a mafque; but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nofe fell a bleeding on black Monday laft, at fix o'clock i' th' morning, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in the af

ternoon.

Shy. What are there mafques? hear you me, Jeffica, Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum, And the vile fqueaking of the wry-neck'd fife, Clamber not you up to the cafements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street, To gaze on Chriftian fools with varnish'd faces. But ftop my houfe's ears; I mean, my casements; Let not the found of fhallow foppery enter My fober houfe. By Jacob's ftaff, I swear, I have no mind of feafting forth to-night. But I will go; go you before me, firrah. Say, I will come.

Laun. I will go before, Sir.

Mistress, Look out at window, for all this;
There will come a Chriftian by,

Will be worth a Jewefs' eye.

[Exit Laun. Shy. What fays that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? Jef. His words were, Farewel, Mistress; nothing else. Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder: Snail-flow in profit, but he fleeps by day

More than the wild cat; drones hive not with me,
Therefore I part with him; and part with him:
To one, that I would have him help to waite
His borrow'd purfe. Well, Jeffica, go in;
Perhaps I will return immediately;

Do, as I bid you.—

Shut the doors after you: Faft bind, faft find;

A proverb never ftale in thrifty mind.

Jef. Farewel; and if my fortune be not croft, I have a father, you a daughter, lost.

SCENE VII. The fireet.

Enter Gratiano and Salanió in masquerade.

[Exit.

[Exit.

Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenze defired us to make a stand.

Sal. His hour is almost past.

Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,

For lovers ever run before the clock.

Sal. O, ten times fafter Venus' widgeons fly
To feal love's bonds new made, than they are wont
To keep obliged faith unforfeited!

Gra. That ever holds. Who rifeth from a feast,
With that keen appetite that he fits down?
Where is the horse, that doth untread again
His tedious measures with th' unbated fire,
That he did pace them firft? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chafed than enjoy'd.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,

The fcarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the ftrumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth fhe return,
With over-weather'd ribs and ragged fails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!

Enter Lorenzo.

Sal. Here comes Lorenzo: more of this hereafter.
Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode.;
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait t;
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives,
I'll watch as long for you then: come, approach;
Here dwells my father Jew. Hoa, who's within?
Jeffica above, in boy's cloaths.

Jef. Who are you? tell me for more certainty,
Albeit I'll fwear that I do know your tongue.
Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

Jef. Lorenzo certain, and my love, indeed;

For who love I fo much? and now who knows,
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am your's?

[art.

Lor. Heav'n and thy thoughts are witness that thou Jef. Here catch this cafket, it is worth the pains. I'm glad, 'tis night, you do not look on me ; For I am much afham'd of my exchange; But love is blind, and lovers cannot fee The pretty follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To fee me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor. Defcend, for you must be my

torch-bearer.
Jef. What, muft I hold a candle to my shames ?
They in themselves, goodfooth, are too, too light.
Why, 'tis an office of difcovery, love,
And I fhould be obfcur'd.

Lor. So are you, sweet,

Ev'n in the lovely garnish of a boy.

But come at once

For the clofe night doth play the run-away,

And we are ftaid for at Baffanio's feaft.

Fe. I will make faft the doors, and gild myself With fome more ducats, and be with you ftrait. [Exit from above. Gra. Now by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. Lor. Befhrew me, but I love her heartily; For fhe is wife, if I can judge of her; And fair fhe is, if that mine eyes be true; And true fhe is, as fhe hath prov'd herself; And therefore like herself, wife, fair, and true, Shall the be placed in my conftant foul.

Enter Jeffica to them.

What, art thou come? on, Gentlemen away;
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay.

Enter Anthonio.

Anth. Who's there?

Gra. Signior Anthonio,

Anth. Fie, Gratiano, where are all the reft? 'Tis nine o'clock, our friends all ftay for you; No mafque to-night; the wind is come about, Baffanio prefently will go aboard;

[Exit.