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 her.

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

Enter a Servant.

Lor. Who comes so fast in filence of the night? Serv. A friend.

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

Serv. Stephano is my name; and I bring word, My mistress will before the break of day Be here at Belmont: fhe doth stray about By holy croffes, where the kneels and prays For happy wedlock hours.

I

Lor. Who comes with her?

Serv. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid. 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, Jeffica,

And ceremoniously let us prepare

Some welcome for the mistress of the house.

Enter LAUNCELOT.

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

Lor. Who calls?

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

Lor. Leave hollowing, man; here.

Laun. Sola! where? where?

Lor. Here.

Laun. Tell him, there's a poft come from my

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mafter,

mafter, with his horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning, sweet soul.

[Exit. Lor. 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; And bring your musick forth into the air.[Exit Servant.

How sweet the moon-light fleeps upon this bank!
Here will we fit, and let the founds of mufick
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night,
Become the touches of fweet harmony.
Sit, Jeffica: Look, how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlay'd with pattens of bright gold;
There's not the smallest 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 fouls;
But, whilft this muddy vefture of decay
Doth grofsly close it 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.

Jef. I am never merry, when I hear sweet mufick.

[Mufick Lor. The reason 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 mufick touch their ears, You fhall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their favage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,

By

By the sweet power of mufick: Therefore, the poet
Didfeign that Orpheus drew trees, ftones, and floods;
Since naught fo ftockifh, hard, and full of rage,
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 sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, 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 musick.

Enter PORTIA, and NERISSA, at a distance.

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 lefs: 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. Mufick! hark! [Mufick Ner. It is your mufick, madam, of the house. Por. Nothing is good, I fee, without refpect; Methinks, it founds much sweeter than by day. Ner. Silence bestows that 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 mufician than the wren. How many things by feason seafon'd are To their right praife, and true perfection?

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Peace!

Peace! how the moon fleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd!

Lor. That is the voice,

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.

[Mufick ceafes.

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

Lor. Dear lady, welcome home.

[cuckow,

Por. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare,

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 in, Neriffa,

Give order to my fervants, that they take
No note at all of our being abfent hence ;-
Nor you, Lorenzo; Jeffica, nor you.

[A Tucket founds.

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 day-light It looks a little paler; 'tis a day,

Such as the day is when the fun is hid.

[fick,

Enter BASSANIO, ANTHONIO, GRATIANO, and their

If

followers.

Baff. 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 for me;

But, God fort all!-You are welcome home, my lord.

Baff

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

To whom I am fo infinitely bound.

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

[GRATIANO and NERISSA feem to talk apart. 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. About a hoop of gold, a paultry ring That fhe did give me; whofe 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 that it should lie with you in your grave: Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You fhould 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 his 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 youthA kind of boy; a little fcrubbed 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.

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Por.