48
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
LORENZO. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art.
JESSICA. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the pains. I am glad ' tis night, you do not look on me, For I am much asham ' d 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.
LORENZO. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.
JESSICA. What! must I hold a candle to my shames? They in themselves, good sooth, are too-too light. Why, ' tis an office of discovery, love, And I should be obscur ' d.
LORENZO. So are you, sweet, Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. But come at once; For the close night doth play the runaway, And we are stay ' d for at Bassanio ' s feast.
JESSICA. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself With some moe ducats, and be with you straight.
[ Exit above.]