Gra. Was not that Letter from faire Iessica? Lor. I must needes tell thee all, she hath directed How I shall take her from her Fathers house, What gold and iewels she is furnisht with, What Pages suite she hath in readinesse: If ere the Iew her Father come to heauen, It will be for his gentle daughters sake; And neuer dare misfortune crosse her foote, Vnlesse she doe it vnder this excuse, That she is issue to a faithlesse Iew: Come goe with me, pervse this as thou goest, Faire Iessica shall be my Torch-bearer. Enter. Enter Iew, and his man that was the Clowne. Iew. Well, thou shall see, thy eyes shall be thy iudge, The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio; What Iessica, thou shalt not gurmandize As thou hast done with me: what Iessica? And sleepe, and snore, and rend apparrell out. Why Iessica I say Clo. Why Iessica Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call Clo. Your worship was wont to tell me I could doe nothing without bidding. Enter Iessica. Ies. Call you? what is your will? Shy. I am bid forth to supper Iessica, There are my Keyes: but wherefore should I go? I am not bid for loue, they flatter me, But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon The prodigall Christian. Iessica my girle, Looke to my house, I am right loath to goe, There is some ill a bruing towards my rest, For I did dreame of money bags to night Clo. I beseech you sir goe, my yong Master Doth expect your reproach Shy. So doe I his Clo. And they haue conspired together, I will not say you shall see a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on blacke monday last, at six a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on ashwensday was foure yeere in th' afternoone Shy. What are their maskes? heare you me Iessica, Lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drum And the vile squealing of the wry-neckt Fife, Clamber not you vp to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the publique streete To gaze on Christian fooles with varnisht faces: But stop my houses eares, I meane my casements, Let not the sound of shallow fopperie enter My sober house. By Iacobs staffe I sweare, I haue no minde of feasting forth to night: But I will goe: goe you before me sirra, Say I will come Clo. I will goe before sir, Mistris looke out at window for all this; There will come a Christian by, Will be worth a Iewes eye Shy. What saies that foole of Hagars off-spring? ha Ies. His words were farewell mistris, nothing else Shy. The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder: Snaile-slow in profit, but he sleepes by day More then the wilde-cat: drones hiue not with me, Therefore I part with him, and part with him To one that I would haue him helpe to waste His borrowed purse. Well Iessica goe in, Perhaps I will returne immediately; Doe as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast binde, fast finde, A prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde. Enter.