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SHYLOCK: "I am bid forth to supper, Jessica; There are my keys. But wherefore should I go? I am not bid for love; they flatter me; But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loath to go; There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, For I did dream of money-bags to-night."

Enter JESSICA

LAUNCELOT: "Why, Jessica!"

SHYLOCK: "Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call."

LAUNCELOT: "And they have conspired together; I will not say 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 o'clock i' th' morning, falling out that year on Ash Wednesday was four year, in th' afternoon."

LAUNCELOT: "Your worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing without bidding."

SHYLOCK: "Well, thou shalt see; thy eyes shall be thy judge, The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio. -- What, Jessica! -- Thou shalt not gormandize As thou hast done with me -- What, Jessica! -- And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out -- Why, Jessica, I say!"

JESSICA: "Call you? What is your will?"

SHYLOCK: "So do I his."

LAUNCELOT: "I beseech you, sir, go; my young master doth expect your reproach."

Enter SHYLOCK and LAUNCELOT

LAUNCELOT: "I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at window for all this. There will come a Christian by Will be worth a Jewess' eye."

SHYLOCK: "What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica: Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum, And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, Clamber not you up to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces; But stop my house's ears -- I mean my casements; Let not the sound of shallow fopp'ry enter My sober house. By Jacob's staff, I swear I have no mind of feasting forth to-night; But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah; Say I will come."

Exit

SHYLOCK: "What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha?"

JESSICA: "His words were 'Farewell, mistress'; nothing else."

SHYLOCK: "The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder, Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps 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 borrowed purse. Well, Jessica, go in; Perhaps I will return immediately. Do as I bid you, shut doors after you. Fast bind, fast find -- A proverb never stale in thrifty mind."

Exit

JESSICA: "Farewell; and if my fortune be not crost, I have a father, you a daughter, lost."

Exit