Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed, How I fhall take her from her father's house; What gold and jewels fhe is furnish'd with; What page's fuit she 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 iffue to a faithless Jew. Come, go with me; perufe this, as thou goeft. Fair Jelica fhall be my torch-bearer. SCENE VI. Shylock's House. Enter Shylock and Launcelot. [Exeunt. Shy. WELL, thou shalt fee, thy eyes fhalt be thy judge, The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio 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; G 2 Laun. 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 a clock i' th' morning, falling out that year on Afb-Wednesday was four year in the after noon. Shy. What are there mafques? Hear you me, Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum, Laun. I will go before, Sir. me, firrah : Mistress, look out at window, for all this; Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit Laun. Shy. What fays that fool of Hagar's off-fpring, ha? Jef. His words were, Farewel, Miftrefs; 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, * Laun. Then it was not for nothing that my nfe fell a bleeding " is a moveable day, it is on Black Monday laft.] Black Monday "Eafter-Monday, and was fo called on this occafion. In the 34th ❝ of Edward III. (1360) the 14th of April, and the morrow after "Eafter-day, king Edward, with his hoft, lay before the city of "Paris; which day was full dark of mift and hail, and fo bitter cold, that many men died on their horses backs with the cold. "Wherefore, unto this day, it hath been called the Blacke-Monday." Stowe, p. 364-6. Dr. GRAY. To To one, That I would have him help to wafte Do, as I bid you. Shut the doors after you; faft bind, faft find ; [Exit. Jef. Farewel; and if my fortune be not croft, I have a father, you a daughter, loft. Enter Gratiano and Salanio in masquerade. Gra.'THIS is the pent-houfe, under which Lorenzo defired us to make a ftand. 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' pigeons fly (9) (9) 0, ten times fafter Venus' Pigeons fly-] This is a very odd image, of Venus's Pigeons flying to feal the bonds of Love. The fenfe is obvious, and we know the dignity due to Venus's Pigeons. There was certainly a joke intended here, which the ignorance or boldness of the firft tranfcribers has murdered: I doubt not, but Shakespeare wrote the line thus: For Widgeon fignified metaphorically, a filly fellow, as Goofe, or Gudgeon, does now. The calling love's votaries, Venus's Widgeons, is in high humour. Butler uses the fame joke in speaking of the prefbyterians. Tb' apoftles of this fierce religion, Like Mahomet's, were afs and Widgeon. Mahomet's afs or rather mule was famous: and the monks in their fabulous accounts of him faid, he taught a pigeon to pick peas out of his ears to carry on the ends of his imposture. WARBURTON. I believe the Poet wrote as the Editors have printed. How it is fo very bigb bumour to call Lovers Widgeons rather than Pigeons I cannot find. Lovers have in poetry been always called Turtles, or Dves, which in lower language may be Pigeon. G 3 Το To feal love's bonds new made, than they are wont Gra. That ever holds. Who rifeth from a feaft, The fkarfed bark puts from her native bay, Enter Lorenzo. Sal. Here comes Lorenzo.-More of this hereafter. Ler. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode wait; Not I, but my affairs, have made you Jeffica, above, in boy's cloaths. Jef. Who are you? tell me for more certainty, Jef. Lorenzo certain, and my love, indeed; Lor. Heav'n and thy thoughts are witness, that thou art. Fel. Here, catch this casket, it is worth the pains. Lor. Lor. Defcend, for you must be my torch-bearer. Jef. What must I hold a candle to my fhames? They in themselves, goodfooth, are too, too, light. Why, 'tis an office of difcovery, 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 run-away, Jef. I will make faft the doors, and gild myfelf [Exit from above. Gra. Now by my hood, a Gentile, * and no Jew. Lor Befhrew me, but I love her heartily; For the is wife, if I can judge of her; Enter Jeffica, to them. What, art thou come ?-On, gentlemen, away; Enter Anthonio. Anth. Who's there? Gra. Signior Anthonio, [Exit. Anth. Fie, Gratiano, where are all the reft? I have fent twenty out to feek for you. Gra. I'm glad on't; I defire no more delight Than to be under fail, and gone to night. [Exeunti A jeft rifing from the ambiguity of Gentile, which fignifies both a Heathen, and Ove well born. |