And know how well I have deserved the ring,
She would not hold out enemy for ever,
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!

[Exeunt PORTIA and NERISSA.

ANT. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring:
Let his deservings and my love withal
Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment.

BASS. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him;
Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst,
Unto Antonio's house: away! make haste.

[Exit GRATIANO.

Come, you and I will thither presently;
And in the morning early will we both
Fly toward Belmont: come, Antonio.

SCENE II.-The same. A street.

[Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.]

[Exeunt.

POR. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed
And let him sign it: we 'll away to-night

And be a day before our husbands home:
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.

[Enter GRATIANO.]

GRA. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en:

POR.

My Lord Bassanio upon more advice

Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat
Your company at dinner.

That cannot be:

His ring I do accept most thankfully:"

And so, I pray you, tell him: furthermore,

I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house.

GRA. That will I do.

NER.

Sir, I would speak with you.

[Aside to PORTIA.

I'll see if I can get my husband's ring,

Which I did make him swear to keep forever.

POR. [Aside to NER.] Thou mayst, I warrant. We shall have old swearing

That they did give the rings away to men;

But we 'll outface them, and outswear them too.

[Aloud.] Away! make haste: thou know'st where I

will tarry.

NER. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house? [Exeunt.

THE END

DRAMATIC VERSION OF "THE ROMAN ROAD" *

THE BOY. [Turning to his little sister CHARLOTTE, who has come running after him.] Where 's Harold?

CHARLOTTE. Oh, he 's just playing muffin-man, as usual. Fancy wanting to be a muffin-man on a whole holiday!

THE BOY. He 'll play it all day, now he has begun. And Edward, where is he?

CHARLOTTE. He's coming along by the road-not the Knights' Road that leads to Rome-but the one by the pond. He'll be crouching in the ditch when we get there, and he 's going to be a grizzly bear and spring out on us, only you must n't say I told you, 'cos it 's to be a surprise.

THE BOY. Humph! That is as stupid as Harold with his muffins! [Starts to walk off in the opposite direction.] CHARLOTTE. Where are you going?

THE BOY. To Rome.

CHARLOTTE. Oh-oh!

THE BOY. I shall go down the Knights' Road and maybe I shall meet Lancelot and his peers pacing on their great war horses-and after a while I shall come to that

*From "The Golden Age" by KENNETH GRAHAME. Copyright by John Lane Company.

strange road Miss Smedley told us about in a history lesson.

CHARLOTTE. I don't remember about it.

THE BOY. It runs right down the middle of England till it reaches the coast, and it then begins again in France, just opposite, and so on undeviating, through city and vineyard, right from the Misty Highlands to the Eternal City, Rome. That was what she told us.

CHARLOTTE. Edward says that some one told him that all roads lead to Rome.

THE BOY. I often try to imagine what it will be like when I get there. The Coliseum is there I know from the wood-cut in the history-book. And then the other cities near -Damascus, Brighton (Aunt Eliza's ideal), Athens,—and Glasgow, whose glories the gardener sings. [Beginning to walk away.] Oh, I shall see them all and Rome. [Walks on down the Knights' Road until he comes upon an artist. He spends five minutes studying his appearance.]

THE ARTIST. Fine afternoon we 're having; going far to-day?

THE BOY. No, I 'm not going any farther than this. I was thinking of going to Rome; but I 've put it off.

THE ARTIST. Pleasant place, Rome, you 'll like it. But I would n't go just now, if I were you,-too jolly hot. THE BOY. You have n't been to Rome, have you?

THE ARTIST. Rather. I live there.

THE BOY. [In great astonishment.] You don't really live there, do you?

THE ARTIST. [Goodnaturedly.] Well, I live there as much as I live anywhere-about half the year sometimes. I've got a sort of shanty there. You must come and see it some day.

THE BOY. But do you live anywhere else as well?

THE ARTIST. O yes, all over the place. And I've got a diggings somewhere off Piccadilly.

THE BOY. Where 's that?

THE ARTIST. Where 's what? Oh, Piccadilly! It's in London.

THE BOY. Have you a large garden,-and how many pigs have you got?

THE ARTIST. [Sadly.] I've no garden at all and they don't allow me to keep pigs, though I'd like to, awfully. It's very hard.

THE BOY. But what do you do all day, then, and where do you go and play, without any garden, or pigs, or things?

THE ARTIST. When I want to play, I have to go and play in the street; but it 's poor fun, I grant you. There's a goat, though, not far off, and sometimes I talk to him when I'm feeling lonely; but he 's very proud.

THE BOY. Goats are proud. There's one lives near here, and if you say anything to him at all, he hits you in the wind with his head. You know what it feels like when a fellow hits you in the wind?

THE ARTIST. [In a tone of proper melancholy.] I do, well.