"M forry, thou wilt leave my father fo;
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
Didft rob it of fome taste of tedioufnefs.
But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee
And, Launcelot, foon at fupper fhalt thou fee
Lorenzo, who is thy new mafter's guest;
Give him this letter, do it fecretly,

And fo farewel: I would not have my father
See me talk with thee.

Laun. Adieu!———-Tears exhibit my tongue. [afide. Most beautiful Pagan,moft sweet Jew! if a chriftian did not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceiv'd. But, adieu! thefe foolish drops do fomewhat drown my manly fpirit: adieu!

Jef. Farewel, good Launcelot,
Alack, what heinous fin is it in me,
To be afham'd to be my father's child?
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo,
If thou keep promife, I fhall end this ftrife,
Become a christian, and thy loving wife.

[Exit.

[Exit.

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Solarino, and Salanio,

Lor.

NAY, we will flink away in fupper time, dif

an hour.

guife us at my lodging, and return all in

Gra.

Gra. We have not made good preparation. Sal. We have not fpoke as 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 a-clock, we have two hours To furnish us.

Enter Launcelot, with a letter.

Friend Launcelot, what's the news?

Laun. An' it fhall pleafe you to break up this, it fhall feem to fignifie.

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 mafter the Jew to fup to night with my new mafter the chriftian. Lor. Hold, here, take this.Tell gentle Jeffica, I will not fail her. Speak it privately.

Go.-Gentlemen, will you prepare for this masque to night?

I am provided of a torch-bearer.

[Exit Laun.

Sal. Ay marry, I'll be gone about it ftrait.

Sola. And fo will I.

Lor. Meet me, and Gratiano,

Sal. 'Tis good we do so.

At Gratiano's lodging fome hour hence.

[Exit.

Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessica?

Lor. I must needs tell thee all. She 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 the hath in readiness.
If e'er the few her father come to heav'n,
It will be for his gentle Daughter's fake:
And never dare misfortune cross her foot,

Un

Unlefs fhe doth it under this excuse,

That she is iffue to a faithlefs Jew.

Come, go with me; peruse this, as thou goest.
Fair Jelica fhall be my torch-bearer.

[Exeunt.

Sby.WELL, thou shalt see, thy eyes shalt be thy

judge,
The difference of old Shylock and Beffanio
What, Jelica!-thou shalt not gormandize,
As thou haft done with me-what, Jfica!-
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 Jeffica,

Jef. Call you? what is your will?
Shy. I am bid forth to fupper, Jeffica;
There are my keys. But wherefore fhould I go ?
I am not bid for love; they flatter me:
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon
The prodigal chriftian. Jeffa, my girl,
Look to my houfe, I am right loath to go;
There is fome ill a brewing towards my rest,
For I did dream of money-bags to night.

Laun. I befeech you, Sir, go; my young master doth expect your reproach.

Shy. So do I his.

Laun.

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 black Monday laft, at fix a clock i' th' morning, falling out that year on Afb-Wednesday was four year in the afternoon.

Sky. What are there mafques? Hear you me,
Felica,

Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum,
And the vile fqueaking of the wry neck'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 stop my house's ears; I mean, my casements;
Let not the found of fhallow foppery enter
My fober house. By Jacob's ftaff, I swear,
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, Sir.

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 off-fpring, ha? Jef. His words were, Farewel, Mistress; nothing

elfe.

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 watte
His borrow'd purfe. Well, Jeffica, go in;
Perhaps, I will return immediately;
Do, as I bid you.

Shut the doors after you; faft bind, fast find ;
A proverb never ftale in thrifty mind.

Jef. Farewels and if my fortune be not croft,

I have a father, you a daughter, loft.

[Exit.

SCENE

SCENE

VII.

The STREET.

Enter Gratiano and Salanio in Mafquerade.

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. Who rifeth from a feast,
With that keen appetite that he fits down?
Where is the horfe, that doth untread again.
His tedious measures with th' unbated fire,
That he did pace them firft? all things that are,
Are with more fpirit chafed than enjoy'd.

the fame joke in fpeaking of the prefbyterians.

Th' apoftles of this fierce reli-
gion,

Like Mahomet's, were afs and
Widgeon.

Mahomet's afs or rather mule was
famous: and the monks in their
fabulous accounts of him faid, he
taught a pigeon to pick peas out
of his ears to carry on the ends of
his imposture. WARBURTON.

I believe the Poet wrote as the Editor have printed. How it is fo very high humour to call lovers Widgeons rather than Pigeons I cannot find. Lovers have i poetry been alway called Turtles, or Doves, which in tower language may be Pigeon, How

E e