Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, Jes. 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. She doth stray about By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays For happy wedlock-hours. Lor. . Who comes with her? Steph. 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, Jessica, And ceremoniously let us prepare Some welcome for the mistress of the house. Enter LAUNCELOT. Laun. Sola, sola! wo, ha, ho! sola, sola! Lor. Who calls? Laun. Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo, and Mis tress 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? And bring your music forth into the air. [Exit STEPHANO. How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank! Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubims; Such harmony is in immortal souls. But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Enter Musicians. Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, [Music. Jes. 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, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, By the sweet power of music. Therefore, the poets Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, Let no such man be trusted.-Mark the music. Enter PORTIA and NERISSA at a distance. Por. That light we see, is burning in my hall. Ner. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less. How many things by season season'd are Lor. That is the voice, Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the 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 signify their coming. Por. Go in, Nerissa; Give order to my servants, that they take 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. Bass. 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 for me; But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord. Buss. 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. '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? That she did give me, whose-poesy was Ner. What talk you of the poesy, or the value? You swore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it till your hour of death; 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; Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, [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. I would deny it; but you see, my finger Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. |