Say, I will come.

Laun. I will go before, fir.

Miftrefs, look out at window, for all this:
There will come a Christian by,

Will be worth a Jewefs' eye.

[Exit LAUN. Shy. What fays that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha? Jef. His words were, Farewell, mistress; nothing

elfe.

Shy. The patch is kind enough; but a huge feeder,
Snail-flow in profit, and 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 waste
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. [Exit..
Jef. Farewell; and if my fortune be not croft,
I have a father, you a daughter, loft.

SCENE VI. The Street.

[Exit.

Enter GRATIANO, and SALANIO, in mafquerade. Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo Defir'd us to make ftand.

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 ever riseth from a

feaft,

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 first? all things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,

The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the ftrumpet wind!
How like a 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 aNot I, but my affairs, have made you wait: [bode; 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 who love I fo much? and now who knows, But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts, are witness that thou art.

Jef. Here, catch this cafket; it is worth thy pains. I'm 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 fees

The

The pretty follies that themselves commit;
For if they could, Cupid himfelf 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 fhames? They in themselves, good footh, are too, too light. Why, 'tis an office of difcovery, love,

And I fhould be obfcur'd.

Lor. So are you, sweet,

Even in the lovely garnish of a boy.

But come at once;

For the close night doth play the run-away,

And we are ftaid for at Baffanio's feast.

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, 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 she be placed in my constant soul.

Enter JESSICA, below.

What, art thou come?-On, gentlemen, away; Our masking mates by this time for us stay.

[Exit with JESSICA, &c.

Enter ANTHONIO.

Anth. Who's there?

Gra. Signior Anthonio!

Anth. Fie, fie, Gratiano; where are all the reft? 'Tis nine o'clock; our friends all stay for you :

D

No

No mafque to-night; the wind is come about,
Baffanio prefently will go aboard:

I have fent 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. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII. 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.

Mor. The firft, of gold, who this infcription bears;Who choofeth me, fhall gain what many men defire. The fecond, filver, which this promife carries ;Who choofeth me, shall get as much as he deferves. This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt ;Who choofeth me, muft give and hazard all he bath.How fhall I know, if I do choose the right?

If

Por. The one of them contains my picture, prince; you choose that, then I am yours withal.

Mor. Some god direct my judgment! Let me fee,
I will furvey the infcriptions back again:
What fays this leaden cafket?

Who choofeth me, muft give and hazard all he hath.
Muft give for what? for lead? hazard for lead?
This cafket threatens: Men, that hazard all,
Do it in hope of fair advantages:

A golden mind ftoops not to fhews of drofs;
I'll then nor give, nor hazard, ought for lead.
What fays the filver, with her virgin hue?
Who choofeth me, fhall get as much as he deferves.
As much as he deferves?-Paufe there, Morocco,

And

And weigh thy value with an even hand:
If thou be'ft rated by thy eftimation,

Thou doft deserve enough; and yet enough
May not extend fo far as to the lady;
And yet to be afeard of my deferving,
Were but a weak difabling of myfelf.
As much as I deferve!-Why, that's the lady:
I do in birth deferve her, and in fortunes,
In graces, and in qualities of breeding;
But more than thefe, in love I do deferve her.
What if I ftray'd no further, but chose here ?-
Let's fee once more this faying grav'd in gold.
Who choofeth me, hall gain what many men defire.
Why, that's the lady; all the world defires her:
From the four corners of the earth they come
To kifs this fhrine, this mortal breathing faint.
The Hyrcanian deferts, and the vafty wilds
Of wide Arabia, are as thorough-fares now,
For princes to come view fair Portia :
The wat'ry kingdom, whofe ambitious head
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar
To ftop the foreign fpirits; but they come,
As o'er a brook, to fee fair Portia.

One of these three contains her heavenly picture.
Is't like that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation,
To think fo bafe a thought; it were too gross
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.
Or fhall I think, in filver fhe's immur'd,
Being ten times undervalu'd to try'd gold?
O finful thought! Never fo rich a gem
Was fet in worse than gold. They have, in England,
A coin that bears the figure of an angel
Stamped in gold; but that's infculp'd upon;
But here an angel in a golden bed

D 2

Lies