not play the knave, and get thee, I am much deceived. But adieu! These foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit; adieu! Jess. Farewell, good Launcelot.- SCENE IV. The same. A Street. [Exit. [Exit. 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 ordered; And better, in my mind, not undertook. Lor. 'Tis now but four o'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. Laun. By your leave, sir. Lor. Whither goest thou? Love-news, in faith. Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my new master the Christian. 1 To break up was a term in carving. 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 mask to-night? I am provided of a torch-bearer. Salar. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. Lor. Meet me, and Gratiano, [Exeunt SALAR. and SALAN. She hath directed, Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica? Come, go with me; peruse this, as thou goest; [Exeunt. SCENE V. The same. Before 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.— 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. Jes. Call you? Enter JESSICA. What is your will? Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica. There are my keys :-but wherefore should I go?- The prodigal Christian.-Jessica, my girl, 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 mask; but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on Black-Monday1 last at six o'clock i' the morning, falling out that year on Ash Wednesday, was four year in the afternoon. Shy. What are there masks? Hear you me, Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum, 1 i. e. Easter-Monday. It was called Black-Monday from the severity of that day, April 14, 1360, which was so extraordinary, that, of Edward the Third's soldiers, then before Paris, many died of the cold. Anciently a superstitious belief was annexed to the accident of bleeding at the nose. 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; His borrowed purse. Well, Jessica, go in ; 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 crossed, 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 Desired us to make stand. Salar. His hour is almost past. Gra. And it is marvel he outdwells his hour, For lovers ever run before the clock. Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly Gra. That ever holds. Who riseth from a feast The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 1 i. e. fool or simpleton. Hugged and embraced 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? Enter JESSICA above, in Boy's Clothes. Jes. Who are you? Tell me for more certainty, Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love indeed; Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that thou art. Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much ashamed of my exchange; But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty 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. Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good sooth, are too, too light. Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love; And I should be obscured. So are you, sweet, Lor. |