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Why, Jessica! I say.
Laun. Why, Jesica!
Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me, that I could do nothing without bidding.
Shy. I am bid forth to supper, Jesica ;
Laun. I beseech you, Sir, go; my young master doth expect your reproach.
Sby. So do I his.
Laun. And they have conspired together, I will not fay, 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 a clock i'th' morning, falling out that year on Ath-Wednesday was four year in the afternoon. Shy. What! are there masques ? hear you me,
Say, I will come.
Laun. I will go before, Sir.
[Exit Laun. Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's off-Ipring, ha? Jef. His words were, farewel, mistress ; nothing else.
Shy. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder:
Fef. Farewel; and if my fortune be not croft,
Ś C E N E VII.
Enter Gratiano and Salanio in masquerade. Gra. This is the pent-house, under which Lorenzo desired us to make a stand.
Sal. His hour is almost past.
Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,
8 O, ten times faster Venus' Pidgeons Ay] This is a very odd image, of Venus's Pidgeons flying to seal the bonds of Love. The sense is obvious, and we know the dignity due to Venus's Pidgeons. There was certainly a joke intended here, which the
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 fits down? Where is the horse, that doth untread again His tedious measures with th' 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 skarfed 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 fails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumper wind!
Enter Lorenzo. Sal. Here comes Lorenzo : more of this here
after. 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; come, approach; Here dwells my father Jew. Hoa, who's within?
ignorance or boldness of tłe first tranfcribers have murder'd: I doubt not, but Shakespear wrote the line thus:
O, ten times fafter Venus' Widgeons Aly
To feal, &c. For Widgeon is not only one species of Pidgeons, but signified likewise, metaphorically, a filly fellow, as Goole, or Gudgton, does now. . The joke consists in the ambiguity of the signification. And the calling love's votaries, Venus's Widgeons, is in high humour. Butler uses the same joke in speaking of the presbyterians.
Th’ apostles of this fierce religion,
Like Mahomet's, were afs and Widgeon. Mahomet's ass or rather mule was famous : and the monks in their fabulous accounts of him said, he taught a pidgeon to pick peas out of his ears to carry on the ends of his imposture.
Jessica above, in boy's cloaths.
Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love.
Jes. Lorenzo certain, and my love, indeed;
Lor. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.
Jef. What must I hold a candle to my shames ?
Lor. So are you, sweet,
Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild my self
[Exit from above. Gra. Now by my hood, a Gentile, and no Jew.
Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily;
Enter Jessica, to them.
Antb. Fie, Gratiano, where are all the rest?
Gra. I'm glad on't; I desire no more delight Than to be under fail, and gone to night. Exeunt.
Enter Portia with Morochius, and both their trains, Por, co, draw aside the curtains, and discover
The fev'ral caskets to this noble Prince. Now make your choice. [Three caskets are discover'd.
Mor. The first of gold, which this inscription bears, Who chuseth me, shall
gain what many men defire. The second silver, which this promise carries, Who chuseth me, shall get as much as he deserves. This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, Who chuseth me, must give and hazard all be bath. How shall I know, if I do chuse the right?
Por. The one of them contains my picture, Prince; If you chuse that, then I am yours withal.
Mor. Some God direct my judgment! let me see, I will survey th' inscriptions back again ; What says this leaden casket ? Vol. II. K