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I will no Hold here," my new master master the ja

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.

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.

Meet me, and Gratiano,
At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence.
Salar. 'Tis good we do so.

(Exeunt SALAR. and SALAN. 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. Exeunt.


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The same. Before Shylock's House.

Enter Shylock and LauncELOT.
Shy. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy

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!

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.

What is yourer. Jessica;, I go?

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.

'— to feed upon

The prodigal Christian.] Shylock forgets his resolution. In a former scene he declares he will neither eat, drink, nor pray with Christians. Of this circumstance the poet was aware, and meant only to heighten the malignity of the character, by making him depart from his most settled resolve, for the prosecution of his revenge. STEEVENS.

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, falling out that year on Ash-Wednesday was four year in the afternoon. Shy. What! are there 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 publick 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; no-

thing else.

s- then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on Black-Monday last,] “Black-Monday is Easter-Monday, and was so called on this occasion: in the 34th of Edward III. (1360) the 14th of April, and the morrow after Easter-day, King Edward, with his host, lay before the city of Paris; which day was full of dark mist and hail, and so 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. 264–6.


Shy. The patcho 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.


The same.

Enter GRATIANO and SALARINO, masqued.
Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lo-

Desir'd us to make stand.

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 unbated fire That he did pace them first? All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy’d.

The patch --] A term for a fool.

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 !

Salar. Here comes Lorenzo;—more of this here-

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, Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.

Jes. Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed; For who love I so much? And now who knows, But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that

thou art. Jes. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the rains. I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much asham'd 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.

is blind. Shamd of not look orth the mai

i---scarfed bark – ] i. e. the vessel decorated with flags.

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