SOLANIO.
’Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order’d,
And better in my mind not undertook.
LORENZO.
’Tis now but four o’clock, we have two hours
To furnish us.
Enter Launcelet with a letter.
Friend Launcelet, what’s the news?
LAUNCELET.
And it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify.
LORENZO.
I know the hand, in faith ’tis a fair hand,
And whiter than the paper it writ on
Is the fair hand that writ.
GRATIANO.
Love news, in faith.
LAUNCELET.
By your leave, sir.
LORENZO.
Whither goest thou?
LAUNCELET.
Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup tonight with my new master the Christian.