ACT V.

SCENE I. Belmont. Portia's Garden, with Terrace.

LORENZO and JESSICA.

Lorenzo.

HE moon shines bright :-In such a night as this,

When the sweet wind did gently kiss the
trees,

And they did make no noise: in such a night,
Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls,
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.

Jes.
In such a night,
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew;
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,
And ran dismay'd away.

Lor.

In such a night,

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew:

And with an unthrift love did run from Venice,
As far as Belmont.

Fes.

And in such a night

Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well;
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,
And ne'er a true one.

Lor.

And in such a night,

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,

Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

Fes. I would out-night you, did nobody come,

But hark, I hear the footing of a man.

Enter STEPHANO.

Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
Steph. A friend.

Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, I pray

you, friend?

Steph. Stephano is my name; and I bring word, My mistress will before the break of day

Be here at Belmont.

I

pray you, is my master yet return'd?

Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him.—

But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,

And ceremoniously let us prepare

Some welcome for the mistress of the house.

Laun. [Within] Sola, sola! wo, ha, ho! sola, sola! Lor. Who calls?

Enter LAUNCELOT.

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

Lor. Leave hollaing, man; here.

Laun. Sola! Where? where?

Lor. Here.

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

[Exit.

Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their

coming.

And yet no matter;-Why should we go in ?
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your music forth into the air.-

[Exit Stephano.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night,

Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica: Look! how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold;
There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st,
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins :
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

[Music.

Fes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 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, If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,

Or

any air of music 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 music: Therefore, the poet

Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods:

The man that hath no music in himself,

Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;

Let no such man be trusted.

Enter PORTIA and NERISSA.

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.

Lor.

That is the voice,

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.

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

By the bad voice.

Lor.

Dear lady, welcome home.

Por. We have been praying for our husbands' wel

fare,

Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.

Give order to my servants, that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence ;—
Nor you, Lorenzo;-Jessica, nor you.

[A tucket sounds. Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet; We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not.

Por. This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick, It looks a little paler; 'tis a day,

Such as a day is when the sun is hid.

Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their Followers.

You are welcome home, my lord.

Bass. I thank you, madam: give welcome to my friend.

This is the man, this is Antonio,

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. Ant. 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 scant this breathing courtesy.

[Gratiano and Nerissa talk apart. Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong;

In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk.

Por. A quarrel, ho, already? what's the matter? Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring

That she did give me; whose posy was

For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not.

Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value? You swore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it till your hour of death; And that it should lie with you in your grave: Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should have been respective, and have kept it. Gave it a judge's clerk!-No, Heaven's my judge, 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 so slightly with your wife's first gift; A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. I gave my love 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.

Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear I lost the ring defending it.

[Aside.

Gra. My lord Bassanio 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 aught
But the two rings.

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

Bass. 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.