Exeunt.

Gra. And I must to Lorenzo, and the rest; But we will visit you at supper-time.

SCENE III.

The samc.

A room in Shylock's house.

Enter Jessica aud Launcelot.

Jes. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so:
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness;
But fare thee well; there is a ducat for thee.
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest:
Give him this letter; do it secretly,

And so farewell; 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 do not play the knave, and get thee, I am much deceived: But, adieu! these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit; adieu!

Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot.-
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me,
To be asham'd to be my father's child!

[Exit.

But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,

If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife;
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.

The same. A street.

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio.

Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time ;

Disguise us at my lodging, and return
All in an hour.

Gra. We have not made good preparation.

Salar. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. Salan. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd; And better, in my mind, not undertook.

Lor. 'Tis now but four a-clock; we have two hours To furnish us :

Enter Launcelot, with a letter.

Friend Launcelot, what's the news? Laun. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify.

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 master the Jew
to sup 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,
[Exit Launcelot.
Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.

Salar. Ay, marry,, I'll be gone about it straight. Salan. And so will I.

Lor.

Meet me, and Gratiano,

[Exeunt Salar. and Salan.

At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.
Salar. "Tis good we do so.

Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica?

Lor. I must needs tell thee all: She 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 she hath in readiness. If e'er the Jew, her father, come to heaven, It will be for his gentle daughter's sake: And never dare misfortune cross her foot,

Unless she do it under this excuse,

That she is issue to a faithless Jew.

Come, go with me; peruse this as thou goest:
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer.

SCENE V.

The same. Before Shylock's house.

Enter Shylock and Launcelot.

[Exeunt.

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 sleep and snore, and rend apparel out ;-
Why, Jessica, I say!

Laun.

Why, Jessica!

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

Enter Jessica.

Jes. Call you? What is your will? Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica; There are my keys :-But wherefore should I go; I am not bid for love; they flatter me: But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon The prodigal Christian.-Jessica, my girl, Look to my house :-I am right loath to go; There is some ill a brewing towards my rest, 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 say, you 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 six o'clock i'the morning,

* Invited.

falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in the afternoon.

Shy. What! are these masques? Hear you me,
Jessica :

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 stop my house's ears, I mean my casements;
Let not the sound 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, sirrah;
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?
Jes. His words were, Farewell, mistress; nothing
else.

Shy. The patch is kind enough; but a huge feeder, Snail-slow in profit, and 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 waste
His borrow'd purse.-Well, Jessica, go in;
Perhaps, I will return immediately;

Do, as I bid you,

Shut doors after you: Fast bind, fast find;

A proverb never stale in thrifty mind.

[Exit.

Jes. Farewell: and if my fortune be not crost,

I have a father, you a daughter, lost.

[Exit.

SCENE VI.

The same.

Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masked.

Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo Desir'd us to make stand.

Salar.

His hour is almost past. Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock.

Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons 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 sits down?
Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unabated 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 she return,
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!

Enter Lorenzo.

Salar. 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.-Approach;

Here dwells my father Jew :-Ho! who's within ? * Decorated with flags.