BASSANIO.
Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano,
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice,
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;
But where thou art not known, why there they show
Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain
To allay with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behaviour
I be misconst’red in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.
GRATIANO.
Signior Bassanio, hear me.
If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely,
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say “amen”;
Use all the observance of civility
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his grandam, never trust me more.
BASSANIO.
Well, we shall see your bearing.
GRATIANO.
Nay, but I bar tonight, you shall not gauge me
By what we do tonight.
BASSANIO.
No, that were pity.
I would entreat you rather to put on
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment. But fare you well,
I have some business.
GRATIANO.
And I must to Lorenzo and the rest,
But we will visit you at supper-time.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. The same. A room in Shylock’s house.
Enter Jessica and Launcelet.
JESSICA.
I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so.
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness.
But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee,
And, Launcelet, soon at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master’s guest.
Give him this letter, do it secretly.
And so farewell. I would not have my father
See me in talk with thee.