ACT V. SCENE I.

Belmont. A grove or green place before Portia's houfe. Enter Lorenzo and Jeffica.

Lor.

THE moon fhines bright: in fuch a night

as this,

When the sweet wind did gently kifs the trees,
And they did make no noife; in such a night
Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan wall;
And figh'd his foul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Creffid lay that night.

Jef. In fuch a night

Did Thißbe fearfully o'er-trip the dew;
And faw the lion's fhadow ere himself,
And ran difmay'd away.

Lor. In fuch a night

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
Upon the wild fea banks, and wav'd her love
To come again to Carthage.

Jef. In fuch a night

Medea gather'd the inchanted herbs,
That did renew old Efon.

Lor. In fuch a night

Did Jeffica fteal from the wealthy Jew,

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

Jef. And in fuch a night

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

Lor. And in fuch a night

Did pretty Jeffica, (like a little fhrew,)
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

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?
Mef. Stephano is my name, and I bring word,

My miftrefs will before the break of day

VOL. II.

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Be here at Belmont: fhe doth stray 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 mafter 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 miftrefs of the houfe.

Enter Launcelot.

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

Lor. Who calls?

Laun. Sola! did you fee Mafter Lorenzo and Mistress Lorenzo? fola, fola!

Lor. Leave hollowing, man: here.

Laun. Sola! where? where?

Lor. Here.

[Exit.

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.

in?

[Exit Stephano.

Lor. Sweet love, let's in, and there expect their coming. And yet no matter: why fhould we go My friend Stephano, fignify, I pray you, Within the house, your mistress is at hand; And bring your mufic forth into the air. How fweet the moon-light fleeps upon this bank! Here will we fit, and let the founds of mufic Creep in our ears; foft ftillness, and the night • Become the touches of fweet harmony. Sit, Jeffica: look how the floor of heav'n Is thick inlay'd with patens of bright gold; There's not the fmalleft orb which thou behold'st,' But in his motion like an angel fings, Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubims; Such harmony is in immortal founds! But whilft this muddy vefture of decay

Doth grofsly clofe us in, we cannot hear it.'
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;

With fweeteft touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with mufic.

Jef. I'm never merry when I hear sweet mufic. [Mufic.

Lor.

Lor. The reafon is, your fpirits 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 of mufic touch their ears,

You fhall perceive them make a mutual fiand;
Their favage eyes turn❜d to a modest

gaze,

By the sweet power of mufic. Therefore the poet 'Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, ftones, and floods; Since nought fo ftockish, hard, and full of rage, But mufic for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no mufic in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of fweet founds, Is fit for treafons, ftratagems, and spoils; • The motions of his fpirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus:

'Let no fuch man be trusted-Mark the mufic.'

Enter Portia and Neriffa.

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

hall:

Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less ; A substitute shines 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. Mufic, hark!

Ner. It is the mufic, Madam, of your house. Por. Nothing is good, I fee, without refpect: Methinks it founds much sweeter than by day.

[Mufic.

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 she should fing by day,
When every goofe is cackling, would be thought
No better a mufician than the wren.
How many things by feafon feafon'd are

To their right praife, and true perfection?
Peace! how the moon fleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd!

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[Mufic ceafes.

Lor.

Lor. That is the voice,

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.

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 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 abfent hence;
Nor you, Lorenzo; Jeffica, nor you.

[Trumpet founds.

Lor. Your hufband is at hand, I hear his trumpet:

We are no tell-tales, Madam, fear you 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.

If

Enter Baffanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their followers. Ball. We fhould hold day with the Antipodes,

you would walk in abfence 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 fo from me;

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

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

To whom I am so infinitely bound.

[friend;

Por. You fhould 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 muft appear in other ways than words; Therefore I fcant this breathing courtefy.

[To Nerija.

Gra. By yonder moon I fwear you do me wrong;
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk.
Would he were gelt that had it, for my part,
Since you do take it, love, fo much at heart,

Por. A quarrel, ho, already! what's the matter?

Gra

Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring,
That she did give me, whofe poefy was,
For all the world, like cutlers 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 that it fhould lie with you in

your grave:
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should have been refpective, 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 fcrubbed 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 flightly with your wife's first gift; A thing ftuck on with oaths upon your finger, And 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 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 fhould be mad at it.

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

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 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.
Baff. If I could add a lie unto a fault,
I would deny it; but you fee my finger

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[Afide.

Hath