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

Enter Stephano.

Lor. Who comes fo faft, in filence of the night? Mef. A friend.

Lor. What friend? your name, I pray you, friend?
Mej. Stephano is my name, and I bring word,
My miftrefs will before the break of day

Be here at Belmont : fhe doth ftray about
By holy croffes, where the 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 my master yet return'd?

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 miftress of the house.

Enter Launcelot.

Laun. Sola, fola; wo ha, ho, fola, fola !

Lor. Who calls?

Laun. Sola! did you fee mafter Lorenzo and mistres Lorenza? fola, fola!

Lor. Leave hollowing, man: here.

Laun. Sola! where? where?

Lor. Here.

Laun. Tell him, there's a poft come from my mafter, with his horn full of good news. My mafter will be here ere morning.

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

And bring your mufick forth into the air.
How fweet the moon-light fleeps upon this bank!
Here will we fit, and let the founds of mufick
Creep in our ears; foft ftillness, and the night

Become

Become the touches of fweet harmony.
Sit, Jeffica: look, how the floor of heav'n
Is thick inlay'd with patterns of bright gold;
There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'it,
But in his motion like an angel fings,
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubims;
Such harmony is in immortal founds! (31)
But whilft this muddy vefture of decay
Doth grofly clofe 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 mufick.

Jes. I'm never merry, when I hear sweet mufick.

[Mufick.

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 mufick touch their ears,
You fhall perceive them make a mutual stand;
Their favage eyes turn'd to a modeft gaze,

By the fweet power of mufick. Therefore, the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods;
Since nought fo flockish, hard and full of rage,

(31) Such barmony is in immortal fouls;] But the harmony here defcribed is that of the fpheres, so much celebrated by the antients. He fays, the fmalleft orb fings like an angel; and then fubjoins, fuch barmony is in immortal fouls: 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 orb sung like an angel : he should rather have faid, the angel in the orb fung. We must therefore correct the line thus ;

Such barmony is in immortal sounds: i. e. in the mufick of the spheres. Mr. Warburton.

Macrobius, I remember, accounts for our not hearing that musick, which is produc'd by the conftant volubility of the heavens, from the organs in the human ear not being capable, thro' their straitness, of admitting fo vehement a found. Musicam perpetua cœli volubilitate nafcentem ideo claro non fentimus auditu, quia major foxus eft quam ut humanarum aurium recipiatur anguftiis,

But

But mufick for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no mufick in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of fweet founds,
Is fit for treasons, ftratagems, and fpoils;
The motions of his fpirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus :
Let no fuch man be trufted-

Mark the mufick.

Enter Portia and Neriffa.

Por. That light we fee, is burning in my hall:
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So fhines a good deed in a naughty world.

;

Ner. When the moon fhone, we did not fee the candle. Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less A fubftitute fhines brightly as a King, Until a King be by; and then his state Empties itfelf, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. Musick, hark!

[Mufick.

Ner. It is the mufick, madam, of your house.
Por. Nothing is good, I fee, without refrect:
Methinks, it founds much fweeter than by day.

Ner. Silence beftows the virtue on it, madam.
Por. The crow doth fing as fweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended; and, I think,
The nightingale, if fhe fhould fing by day,
When every goofe is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by season seafon'd are
To their right praife, and true perfection?
Peace! how the moon fleeps with Endimion,
And would not be awaked!

Lor. That is the voice,

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.

[Mufick ccafes.

Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the cuckow,

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

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

Por. Go, Neriffa,

Give order to my fervants, that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence;

Nor you, Lorenzo; Felica, 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, methinks, is but the day-light fick; It looks a little paler; 'tis a day,

Such as the day is when the fun is hid.

Enter Baffanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their followers. Baff. We should hold day with the Antipodes,

If

you

would walk in absence of the fun.

Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light;
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband;
And never be Baffanio so from me;

But God fort all you're welcome home, my Lord.

:

Baff. I thank you, madam: give welcome to my friend; This is the man, this is Anthonio,

To whom I am fo infinitely bound.

Por. You should in all fenfe 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 muft appear in other ways than words; Therefore I fcant this breathing courtesy.

Gra. By yonder moon, 1 fwear, you do me wrong; In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk.

[To Neriffa. Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, Since you 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 poefy, or the value? You fwore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it 'till your hour of death,

And

it.

And that it fhould lye with you in your grave:
Tho' not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You fhould have been refpective, and have kept
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 thyfelf, 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 flightly with your wife's first gift;
A thing ftuck on with oaths upon your finger,
And rivited with faith unto your flesh.

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

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

[Afide

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

Por. What ring gave you, my Lord?
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.
Baff. If I could add a lie unto a fault,

I would deny it, but you fee 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,