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Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come:
But hark, I hear the footing of a man.

Enter Stephano.
Lor. Who comes so fast, in filence of the night?
Mef. A friend.
Lor. What friend ? your name, I

pray you,
Mej. Stephano is my name, and I bring word,
My mistress will before the break of day
Be here at Belmont : The doth stray about
By holy crosses, where she kneels, and prays,
For happy wedlock hours.

Lor. Who comes with her ?

Mef. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid,
I pray you, is



Lor. He is not, nor have we yet heard from him:
But go we in, I pray thee, Jeffica,
And ceremoniously let us prepare
Some welcome for the mifrels of the house.

Enter Launcelot.
Laun. Sola, sola ; wo ha, ho, sola, sola!
Lor. Who calls ?

Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo and mistress Lorenza? fola, sola!

Lor. Leave hollowing, man: here. Laun. Sola! where? where? Lor. Here. Laun. Tell him, there's a poft come from my master, with his horn full of good news. My master will be here ere morning.

Lor. Sweet love, let's in, and there expect their coming, And yet no matter : why should we go in ? My friend Stephano, fignify, I pray you, Within the house, your mistress is at hand ;

[Exit Stephano. And bring your musick forth into the air. How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank! Here will we fit, and let the sounds of musick Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night


Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jeffica: look, how the floor of heav'n
Is thick inlay'd with patterns of bright gold;
There's not the smalleft orb, which thou behold'It,
But in his motion like an angel fings,
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubiins;
Such harmony is in immortal sounds ! (31)
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth groíly close us in, we cannot hear it.
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn ;
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with musick.
Jef. I'm never merry, when I hear sweet musick.

Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive;
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
(Which is the hot condition of their blood)
If they perchance but hear a trumpet found,
Or any air if musick touch their ears,
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand;
Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze,
By the sweet power of mafick. Therefore, the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, ftones, and foods ;
Since nought fo ftockish, hard and full of rage,

(31) Such barmony is in immortal souls;] But the harmony here defcribed is that of the spheres, so much celebrated by the antients. He fays

, the smallest orb fings like an angel; and then subjoins, such bare mony is in immortal souls: but the harmony of angels is not here meant, but of the orbs. Nor are we to think, that here the poet alludes to the notion, that each orb has its intelligence or angel to direct it; for then with no propriety could he fay, the srb sung like an angel : he should zather have said, the angel in i be orb fung. We must therefore correct

Sucb barmony is in immortal sounds : ise in the musick of the spheres. Mr. Warburton.

Macrobius, I remember, accounts for our not hearing that musick, which is produc'd by the constant volubility of the heavens, from the organs in the human ear not being capable, thro' their straitness, of admitting fo vehement a found. Muficam perpetua cæli volubilitate nascentem ideo claro non sentimus auditu, quia major forus eff quam ul bumanarum aurium recipiatur anguftiis,

the line thus ;


But musick for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no mufick in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet founds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ;
The motions of his spirit ale dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus :
Let no such man be trusted - - Mark the musick.

Enter Portia and Neriffa.
Por. That light we see, is burning in my hall:
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less; A fubftitute thines brightly as a King, Until a King be by; and then his state Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. Musick, hark ! [Mufick.

Ner. It is the musick, madam, of your house.

Por. Nothing is good, I see, without refpect : Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by diy.

Ner. Silence bestows the virtue on it, madam.

Por. The crow doth fing as sweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended; and, I think,
The nightingale, if she fhould fing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection ?
Peace! how the moon sleeps with Endimion,
And would not be awaked !

[Mufick ceases

. Lor. That is the voice, Or I am much deceivd, of Portia.

Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows thecuckow, By the bad voice.

Lor. Dear Lady, welcome home.

Por. We have been praying for our husbands healths, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. Are they return'd? Lor. Madam, they are not yet ;


But there is come a messenger before,
To fignify their coming.

Por. Go, Nerissa,
Give order to my servants, that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence;
Nor you, Lorenzo; Jefica, nor you. [A Tucket founds.

Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet : We are no tell-tales, madam, fear your not.

Por. This night, metbinks, is but the day-light fick; It looks a little paler; 'tis a day, Such as the day is when the sun is hid. Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their followers.

Baj. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walk in absence of the sun.

Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light;
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband ;
And never be Bassanio so from me;
But God fort all: you're welcome home, my Lord.

Ball. I thank you, madam: give welcome to my friend;
This is the man, this is Anthonio,
To whom I am so infinitely bound.

Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him ; For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.

Anth. No more than I am well acquitted of.

Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house ; It must appear in other ways than words; Therefore I fcant this breathing courtesy.

Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong ; In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk.

[T. Nerilla. Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,

do take it, love, so much at heart.
Por. A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter ?
Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring,
That she did give me, whose poefy was
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife ; Love me, and leave me not.
Ner. What talk you of the poesy, or the yalue ?

when I did give it you,
you would
wear it 'till your hour of death,




You swore to me

And that it should lye with you in your grave:
Tho' not for me, yet


vehement oaths,
You should have been respective, and have kept it.
Gave it a judge's clerk! but well I know,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face, that had it,

Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man.
Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man.

Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth,
A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy,
No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk;
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee :
I could not for my heart deny it him.

Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, To part fo slightly with your wife's first gift; A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, And rivited with faith unto your flesh. I gave iny


a ring, and made him swear Never to part with it; and here he stands, I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it, Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.

Bal. Why, I were beft to cut my left hand off, And Twear, I loft the ring defending it.

Gia. My Lord Bafanio gave his ring away
Unto the judge that begg'd it, and, indeed,
Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk,
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine;
And neither man, nor master, would take ought
But the two rings.

Por. What ring gave you, my Lord ?
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.

Bal. If I could add a lie unto a fault,
I would deny it, but you see my finger
Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone.

Por. Even fo void is your false heart of truth.
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
Until I see the ring.
Ner. Nor I in yours,

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