His borrow'd purfe. Well, Jeffica, go in; Do, as I bid you Shut the doors after you; faft 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. [Exit. SCENE, the STREET. Enter Gratiano and Salanio in masquerade. Gra. This is the pent-houfe, defired us to make a ftand. Sal. His hour is almoft paft. under which Lorenzo Gra. And it is marvel he out- dwells his hour, Sal. O, ten times fafter Venus' pigeons fly (7) Gra. That ever holds. Who rifeth from a feaft, The fkarfed bark puts from her native bay, (7) O, ten times fafter Verus' Pigeons fly.] This is a very odd Image, of Venus's Pigeons flying to feal the Bonds of Love. The Senfe is obvious, and we know the Dignity due to Venus's Pigeons. There was certainly a Joke intended here, which the Ignorance, or Boldness, of the firft Tranfcribers have murdered: I doubt not, but Shakespeare wrote the Line thus: O, ten times fafter Venus' Widgeons fly For Widgeon is not only the filly Bird fo call'd, but fignifies likewife, metaphorically, a filly Fellow, as Goofe, or Gudgeon does Mr. Warburton. Hugg'd Hugg'd and embraced 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 pleafe to play the thieves for wives, I'll watch as long for you then; come, approach; Here dwells my father Jew. Hoa, who's within ♪ Jefica above, in boy's cloaths. Jef. Who are you? tell me for more certainty, Jef. Lorenzo certain, and my love, indeed; Lor. Heav'n and thy thoughts are witness, that thou art. Lor. Defcend, for you must be my torch-bearer. Jef. What must I hold a candle to my fhames? They in themfelves, good footh, are too, too, light. Why, 'tis an office of difcovery, love, And I fhould be obfcur'd. Lor. So are you, sweet, Ev'n in the lovely garnish of a boy. But come at once For the clofe night doth play the run away, And we are ftaid for at Bafanio's feast. Jef. I will make faft the doors, and gild myself With fome more ducats, and be with you ftrait. [Exit from above. Gra. Now by my hood, a Gentile, and no few. 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 he is, as fhe hath prov'd herself; And therefore like herfelf, wife, fair, and true, Shall fhe be placed in my constant foul. Enter Jeffica, to them. What art thou come? on, gentlemen, away; Enter Anthonio. Anth. Who's there? Gra. Signior Anthonio. Anth. Fie, Gratiano, where are all the reft? I have fent twenty out to feek for you. SCENE change to Belmont. [Exit. [Exeunt Enter Portia with Morochius, and both their trains. O, draw afide the curtains, and discover Por-G The dev'ral cafkets to this noble Prince. Now make your choice. [Three cafkets are difcover'd. Who chufeth me, fall get as much as he deferves. Por. The one of them contains my picture, Prince; If you chufe that, then I am yours withal. Mor Mor. Some God direct my judgment! let me fee, I will furvey th' infcriptions back again; What fays this leaden casket; Who chufeth me, must give and hazard all he hath. A golden mind stoops not to fhows of dross; The wat'ry kingdom, whofe ambitious head One of these three contains her heav'nly picture. 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 Stamped in gold, but that's infculpt upon : 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 casket. Mor. O hell! what have we here? a carrion death, Within whose empty eye there is a fcrowl: I'll read the writing. All that glifters is not gold, Often have you heard that told; Gilded wood may worms infold: Mor. Cold, indeed, and labour loft Sal. SCENE changes to Venice Enter Solarino and Salanio. HY, man, I faw Bassanio under fail; And in their fhip, I'm fure, Lorenzo is not. [Exit. [Exeunt. Sola. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the Duke, Who went with him to fearch Baffanio's thip. Sal. |