But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee.
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou fee
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest,
Give him this letter; do it secretly,
And so farewel : I would not have

my

father See me talk with thee.

Laun. Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue ; most beautiful Pagan, most sweet 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 !

[Exit.
Jef. Farewel, good Launcelot.
Alack, what heinous fia is it in me,
To be asham'd to be my father's child ?
But though I am a daughter to his biòod,
I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo,
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife,
Become a Chriftian, and thy loving wife. [Exit.
SCENE V.

The street.
Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Solarino, and Salanio.

Lor. Nay, we will flink away in supper-time, disguise us at my lodging, and return all in an hour.

Gra. We have not made good preparation.
Sal. We have not spoke 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 shall please you to break up this, it shall feem to signify.

Lar. 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 goeft thou ?

Laun. Marry, Sir, to bid my old master the Jew to fup to-night with my new master the Christian,

Lor. Hold, here, take this; tell gentle Jessica, I will not fail her; speak 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 strait.
Sola. And so will' I.

Lor. Meet me, and Gratiano,
At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.
Sal. 'Tis good, we do so.

[Exita Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica ?

Lor. I must needs tell thee all; the hath directed, How I shall take her from her father's house, What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with, What page's suit 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 excuse, That she is issue to a faithless Jew. Come, go with me; peruse this, as thou goeft ; Fair Jeffica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt.

S CE N E VI. Shylock's house.

Enter Shylock and Launcelot,
Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy

judge,
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio.
What, Jessica !-thou shalt not gormandize,
As thou hast done with me--what, Jessica !
And seep and snore, and rend apparel out.
Why, Jessica ! I say.

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 Jessica.
Jef. Call you? what is your will ?

Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica ;
There are my keys. But wherefore should I go?

I'll

I am not bid for love; they flatter me :
But
yet go

in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl,
Look to my house; I am right loth to go;
There is some ill a-brewing towards my reft,
For I did dream of money-bags to-night.

Laun. I beseech you, Sir, go; my young master doth expect your reproach.

Shy. So do I his.
Laun. And they have conspired together, I will not

shall see a masque; but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on black Monday last, at fix o'clock i' th' morning, falling out that year on Afh-Wednesday was four year in the af

fay you

ternoon.

Shy. What? are there masques ? hear you me, Jesica,
Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife,
Clamber not you up to the casements then,
Nor thrust your head into the public street,
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces.
But Itop my house's ears ; I mean, my casements;
Let not the found of shallow foppery enter
My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear,
I have no mind of feasting 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 Christian by,
Will be worth a Jewess' eye.

[Exit Laun. Shy. What says 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-Now in profit, but he sleeps 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 purse. Well, Jessica, go in; Perhaps I will return immediately; Do, as I bid you.

Shut the doors after you : Fast bind, fast find;
A proverb never ftale in thrifty mind.

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

[Exit. SCENE VII.

The street. Enter Gratiano and Salanio in masquerade. Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenze desired us to make a stand.

Sal, His hour is almost paít.

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 seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont
To keep obliged faith unforfeited !

Gra. That ever holds. Who riseth 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 first ? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg’d and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth the 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;
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 ?

Jellica above, in boy's cloaths.
Jes. Who are you? tell me for more certainty,
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.
Jef. Lorenzo certain, and my love, indeed';

The pretty

For who love I so 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 casket, it is worth the pains. I'm glad, 'tis night, you do not look on me; For I am much asham’d of my exchange ; But love is blind, and lovers cannot see

follies that themselves commit; For if they could, Cupid himself would blush To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.

Jef. What, must I hold a candle to my shames ?
They in themselves, goodsooth, are too, too light.
Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love,
And I should be obscur'd.

Lor. So are you, sweet,
Ev’n in the lovely garnish of a boy.
But come at once-
For the close night doth play the ran-away,
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast.

Jell. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
With some more ducats, and be with you

strait.

[Exit from above, Gra. Now by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.

Lor. Belhrew me, but I love her heartily ;
For she is wise, if I can judge of her ;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true;
And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself ;
And therefore like herself, wife, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul.

Enter Jessica to them.
What, art thou come on, Gentlemen away;
Our masquing mates by this time for us ftay. [Exit.

Enter Anthonio.
Anth. Who's there?
Gra. Signior Anthonio,

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