Gra.
This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo
Desired us to make ^note stand ^note.

Salar.
His hour is almost ^note past.

Gra.
And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour,
For lovers ever run before the clock.

Salar.
O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons ^note fly
To seal ^note 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 sits down?
Where is the horse that doth untread again
His tedious measures with the unbated fire
That he did pace them first? All things that are,
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younker ^note or a prodigal
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the ^note prodigal doth she ^note return,
With over-weather'd ^note ribs and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!

Salar.
Here comes Lorenzo: more of this hereafter. Enter Lorenzo.

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 ^note. Approach ^{note note};
Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! ^note who's ^note within? Enter Jessica, above, in boy's clothes.

Jes.
Who are you? Tell me, for more certainty,
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue.

Lor.
Lorenzo, and thy love.

Jes.
Lorenzo, certain; and my love, indeed,
For who love I so much? And now who knows
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?

Lor.
Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.

Jes.
Here, catch this casket; it is ^note worth the pains.
I am ^note glad 'tis night, you do not look on me,
For I am much ashamed of my exchange:
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselves commit;
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush
To see me thus transformed to a boy.

Lor.
Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.

Jes.
What, must I hold a candle to my shames ^note?
They in themselves, good sooth, are too too light.
Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love;
And I should be obscured.

Lor.
So are you ^note, sweet,
Even in the lovely garnish of a ^note boy.
But come at once;
For the close night doth play the runaway,
And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast.

Jes.
I will make fast the doors, and gild myself
With some more ^note ducats, and be with you straight. [Exit above.

Gra.
Now, by my hood, a Gentile ^note, and no Jew.

Lor.
Beshrew ^note me but I love her heartily;
For she is wise, if I can judge of her;
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true;
And true she is, as she hath proved herself;
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true,
Shall she be placed in my constant soul. Enter Jessica, below.
What, art thou come? On, gentlemen ^note; away!
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. [Exit ^note with Jessica and Salarino. Enter Antonio.

Ant.
Who's there ^note?

Gra.
Signior Antonio!

Ant.
Fie, fie ^note, Gratiano! where are all the rest?
'Tis nine o'clock: our friends all stay for you.
No masque to-night: the wind is come about;
Bassanio presently will go aboard:
I have sent twenty out to seek for you ^note. ^note

Gra.
I am glad on't: I desire no more delight
Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt. ^note

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