SCENE IV.

The Street. Enter GRATIANO, LORENZO, SOLARINO,

and SALANIO.

Lor. Nay, we will flink away in fupper 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 :

Enter LAUNCELOT, with a letter.

Friend Launcelot, what's the news?

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, fir.

Lor. Whither goeft thou?

Laun. Marry, fir, to bid my old mafter the Jew to
fup to-night with my new mafter the Christian.
Lor. Hold here, take this :-Tell gentle Jeffica
I will not fail her ;-Speak it privately: go.-
Gentlemen,

Will you prepare you for this masque to-night?
I am provided of a torch-bearer.

[Exit LAUN.

Sal. Ay, marry, I'll begone about it straight.
Sola. And fo will I.

Lor. Meet me and Gratiano,

At Gratiano's lodging, fome hour hence.

Sal.. 'Tis good we do so. [Exeunt SAL. and SOLA
Gra.. Was not that letter from fair Jeffica?

Lor. I needs muft tell thee all the 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 heaven,
It will be for his gentle daughter's fake:
And never dare misfortune cross her foot,

Unlefs fhe do it under this excufe,

That she is iffue to a faithlefs Jew.

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

SCENE V.

[Exeunt.

SHYLOCK'S Houfe. Enter SHYLOCK and LAUNCELOT.

Shy. Well, thou fhalt fee, thy eyes fhall be thy judge, The difference of old Shylock and Baffanio :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 JESSICA.

Jef. Call you? What is your will?
Shy. I am bid forth to fupper, Jeffica;
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,[4] to feed upon
The prodigal Chriftian.-Jeffica, my girl,
Look to my house :-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 beseech you, fir, 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 BlackMonday laft,[5] at fix o'clock i' the morning, falling out

[4] Shakespeare has made Shylock forget his refolution. In a former fcene he declares he will neither eat, drink, nor pray with the Chriftians. Of this circrumitance the poet was aware, and meant only to heighten the malignity of the character, by making him depart from his moft fettled refolve, for the profecution of his revenge. STEEV.

[5] "Black-Monday is a moveable day; it is Eafter-Monday, and was fo called on this occafión: 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 mist and hail, and fo bit

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 casements then,
Nor thruft your head into the public street,
To gaze on Chriftian fools with varnish'd faces:
But ftop my house's ears, I mean my casements;
Let not the found of shallow foppery enter
My fober house.-By Jacob's ftaff, I fwear,
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, fir :— ›
Mistress, look out at window, for all this;
There will come a Chriftian by,
Will be worth a Jewess' eye.

[Exit. LAUN.. Shy. What fays that fool of Hagar's offspring, 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;
Therefore I part with him; and part with him
To one, that I would have him help to wafte
His borrow'd purfe.-Well, Jeffica, go in ;
Perhaps I will return immediately;

Do, as I bid you :-..

Shut the doors after you; fast bind, faft 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.

[Exity

SCENE VI.

The Street. Enter GRATIANO and SALANIO in maf

querade.

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

Sal. His hour is almost past.

ter cold, that many men died on their horfes' backs with the cold. Wherefore, unto this day, it hath been called the Blacke-Monday." Stowe, Dr. 364-6.. GRAY.

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
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 the unbated fire,
That he did pace them firft? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,

The fkarfed bark puts from her naked bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth fhe return,
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged fails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the ftrumpet 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 fhall 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 ?
JESSICA above in boy's clothes.

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 whom love I fo much? and now, who knows,
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ?

Lor. Heaven and thy thoughts are witnefs, that thou art..
Jef. Here, catch this cafket, it is worth the pains.

I am 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 themfelves, goodfooth, are too, too light.

Why, 'tis an office of difcovery, love,
And I fhould be obscur'd.

Lor. So are you, sweet,

Even in the lovely garnifh of a boy.

But come at once;

For the close night doth play the run-away,
And we are ftaid for at Baffanio's feaft.

Jef. I will make faft the doors, and gild myself
With fome more ducats, and be with you ftraight.
[Exit from above.
Gra. Now by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.[6]
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 fhe be placed in my conftant foul.

Enter JESSICA below.

What, art thou come ?-On, gentlemen, away,
Our masquing mates by this time for us ftay.

[Exit, with JESSICA, &a.

Enter ANTHONIO.

Anth. Who's there?

Gra. Signior Anthonio?

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

I have sent twenty out to feek for you.

Gra. I am glad on't; I defire no more delight Than to be under fail, and gone to-night.

SCENE VII.

[Exeunt.

Belmont. Enter PORTIA, with the Prince of Morocco, and both their trains.

Por. Go, draw afide the curtains, and discover The feveral cafkets to this noble prince.

Now make your choice. [Three caskets are discovered.

[6] A jeft rifing from the ambiguity of Gentile, which fignifies both aHeathen, and one well born. JOHNS.