1 Jef. Farewel, good Launcelot. SCENE, the Street. [Exit Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Solarino, and Salanio. AY, we will flink away in fupper-time, dif guife us. at my lodging, and return all in Lor.NAX an hour. Gra. We have not made good preparation. Lor. "Tis now but four a-clock, we have two hours Enter Launcelot with a letter. Laur. An' it fhall please you to break up this, it shal feem to fignify. Lor. I know the hand; in faith, 'tis a fair hand; 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 feica, I will not fail her; fpeak it privately. Go.-Gentlemen, will you prepare for this mafk to-night? I am provided of a torch-bearer. [Exit Laun. Sal. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it strait. Sola. And fo will I. Lor. Meet me, and Gratiana, At Gratiano's lodging fome hour hence. Sal Sal. 'Tis good, we do so. Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jeffica? [Exit. Lor. I must needs tell thee all; fhe hath directed, Fair Jeffica fhall be Sby. W my torch-bearer. SCENE, Shylock's houfe. Enter Shylock and Launcelot. [Exeunt. WELL, thou fhalt fee, thy eyes fhall be thy The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio. 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, Fefica; There are my keys: but wherefore should I go? Laun. Laun. I beseech you, Sir, go; my young mafter doth expect your reproach. Shy. So do I his. Laun. And they have confpired together, I will not fay, you shall fee a mask; 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 Afh-Wednesday was four in the afternoon. Shy. What! are there masks? hear you me, Jessica. Laun. I will go before, Sir. Miftrefs, look out at window, for all this Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit Laun. More than the wild cat; drones hive not with me, Shut the doors after you; faft bind, faft find; Jef. Farewel; and if iny fortune be not croft, I have a father, you a daughter loft. [Exit. [Exit. SCENE, Gra. SCENE, the Street. Enter Gratiano and Salanio in maskerade. Tdefired us to make a ftand. HIS is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo Sal. His hour is almost past. Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, For lovers ever ran before the clock. Sal. O, ten times fafter Venus' pigeons fly (12) Gra. That ever holds. Who rifeth from a feaft, (12) 0, ten times fafter Venus' Pigeons fly] This is a very odd image, of Venus's pigeons flying to feal the bonds of love. The fenfe 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 first tranfcribers have murder'd: I doubt not, but Shakespeare wrote the line thus; t O, ten times fafter Venus' widgeons fly For widg on is not only the filly bird fo call'd, but fignifies likewise metaphorically, a filly fellow, as goofe, or gudgeon, does now. The joke confifts in the ambiguity of the fignification, and to call the vo taries of love Venus's widgeons has, I think, fomething very pretty. But the transcribers finding widgeon in the text, and knowing nothing of its figurative fignification, fubftituted pigeon as a more ufual, or (perhaps, better founding) word. Butler has made the very fame joke upon the prefbyterians. Canto ft. pt. 1. v. 231. Th' apoftles of this fierce religion, Like Mabomer's were afs, and widgeon. The monks, in their fabulous account of Mabomet, said, he taught a pigeon to pick peas out of his ear for the ends of his imposture. Mr. Warburton With over-weather'd ribs and ragged fails, 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 me wait; When you fhall please to play the thieves for wives, Jef. Who are you? tell me for more certainty, Jef. Lorenzo certain, and my love, indeed; For who love I so much? and now who knows, But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours? Lor. Heav'n and thy thoughts are witness that thou art, Lor. Defcena, for you must be my torch-bearer. Lor. So are you, fweet, Ev'n in the lovely garnish of a boy. But come at once For the close night doth play the run-away, Jef. I will make faft the doors, and gild myself Lor. |