Of my dear friend. What should I fay, fweet lady? I was befet with fhame and courtefie; So much befmear it. Pardon me, good lady, Had you been there, I think, you would have begg'd Por. Let not that Doctor e'er come near my house, Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd, And that which you did fwear to keep for me ; I'll not deny him any thing I have, No, not my body, nor my husband's bed; Lye not a night from home; watch me, like Argus: Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own, Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd, Baff. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong, I fwear to thee, ev'n by thine own fair eyes, Por. Mark you but that! In both mine eyes he doubly fees himself; Baff. Nay, but hear me: Pardon this fault, and by my foul I swear, Had Had quite mifcarry'd.. I dare be bound again, Por. Then you fhall be his furety; give him this, And bid him keep it better than the other. Ant. Here, lord Bassanio, fwear to keep this ring. Baff. By heav'n, it is the fame I gave the Doctor. Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio; For by this ring the Doctor lay with me. Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano, For that fame fcrubbed boy, the Doctor's clerk, In lieu of this, laft night did lye with me. Gra. Why, this is like the mending of high-ways In fummer, where the ways are fair enough: What are we cuckolds, ere we have deferv'd it? Por. Speak not fo grofsly; you are all amaz'd; Here is a letter, read it at your leisure; It comes from Padua, from Bellario : There you fhall find, that Portia was the Doctor; Ant. I am dumb. Baff. Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not? Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make me cuckold? Ner. Ay, but the clerk, that never means to do it, Unless he live until he be a man. Baff. Sweet Doctor, you shall be my bedfellow; When I am abfent, then lye with my wife. Ant. Sweet lady, you have giv'n me life and living; For here I read for certain, that my fhips Are fafely come to road. Por. How now, Lorenzo? My My clerk hath fome good comforts too for you. From the rich Jew, a fpecial Deed of Gift, Lor. Fair ladies, you drop Manna in the way Por. It is almoft morning, And yet, I'm fure, you are not satisfy'd [Exeunt omnes. |