Laun. Your worship was won't to tell me, that I could do nothing without bidding. fef. Call you? Enter JESSICA. What is your will? Shy. I am bid forth to fupper, Jeffica; upon The prodigal chriftian. Feica, my girl, Laun. I befeech 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 fhall 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 o'clock i'th' morning, falling out that year on Ash-wednesday was four years in the afternoon. Shy. What are there mafques: hear you me, Jeffica, Lock up the doors; and when you hear the drum, And the vile fqueaking of the wry-nek'd fife, Clamber you not up to the cafements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street, To gaze on chriftian fools with varnish'd faces But ftop my house's ears, I mean, my cafements. Let not the found of fhallow foppery, enter My fober house. By Jacob's ftaff, I fwear, I have no mind of feafting forth, to-night: go. Go you before me, firrah : But I will Say, I will come. Laun. I will go before, fir. Miftrefs, look out at window, for all this. 'There will come christian 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 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. [Exit. SCENE, a Street before SHYLOCK's Houfe. Enter GRATIANO and SALANIO, in Masquerade.. Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo defired us to make a stand. 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, 'To feal love's bonds new made, than they are wont To keep obliged faith unforfeited! Gra. That ever holds. Sal. Here comes Lorenzo: more of this, hereafter. Enter LORENZO. Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode; Not 1, but my affairs have made you wait; When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, SONG, by LORENZO. 1. My blifs too long my bride denies, What may for frength with feel compare? III. III. No longer then perplex thy breast,' Away my Jeffe, hafte away. Hoa, who's within ? JESSICA above. Jef. Who are you? tell me for more than certainty, Albeit I'll fwear that I do know your tongue. Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love. Jef. Lorenzo certain, and my love indeed: For who love I fo much; and now who knows, But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? [art. Lor. Heav'n and thy thoughts are witness that thou For the clofe night doth play the run-away, Jef. I will make fait the doors, and gild myfelf With fome more ducats, and be with you ftraight. [Exit from above. Gra. Now by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew. For the is wife, if I can judge of her: Enter JESSICA, to them. What, art thou come? on, gentlemen, away; SCENE changes to BELMONT. SCENE, Enter POR TIA, with MOROCHIUS, and both their Trains. Pox. Go, draw afide the curtains, and discover The feveral caskets to this noble prince. Now make your choice. [Three cafkets are difcovered. MOR. The first of gold, which this infcription bears, Who chufeth me, fhall gain what many men defire. C 2 Who SCENE, the Ryalto. Enter SOLARINO and SALANIO. Sal. Why, man, I faw Bassanio under fail ; With him is Gratiano gone along; And in their fhip, I'm fure, Lorenzo is not. Who chufeth me, fhall get as much as he de ferves. Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince; Sola. Who chufeth me, muft give and hazard all he hath.. De it in hope of fair advantages: A golden mind ftoops not to fhows of drofs; Who chufeth me, fhall get as much as he deferves. If thou be'ft rated by thy eftimation, Thou doft deferve enough; and yet enough To stop the foreign spirits; but they come, One of these three contains her heav'nly picture. Is't Sola. The villain Jew, with outcries rais'd the duke Who went with him to fearch Baffanio's fhip, Sal. He came too late, the fhip was under fail; Is't like, that lead contains her? 'twere damnation, Was fet in worse than gold! They have in England, Stamped in gold; but that's infculpt upon: But here, an angel in a golden bed Lies all within. Deliver me the key! POR. There, take it, prince, and if my form lie there, Then I am yours. [Unlocking the gold cafket, MOR. O hell! what have we here? a carrion death, Within whofe empty eye there is a fcrowl. I'll read the writing. All that glifters is not gold, Had you been as wife as bold, Cold, indeed, and labour loft: Then farewell, heat; and welcome, froft: POR. A gentle riddance: draw the curtains: go. C 3 |