Troilus
methinks mounted the Troyan walls,
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.
JESSICA. In such a night
Did Thisby fearfully o'ertrip the dew,
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,
And ran dismayed away.
LORENZO. In such a night
Stood Dido with a
willow in her hand
Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.
JESSICA. In such a night
Medea gathered the enchanted herbs
That did renew old AEson.
LORENZO. In such a night
Did Jessica steal from the
wealthy Jew,
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice
As far as Belmont.
JESSICA. 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.
LORENZO. In such a night
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.
JESSICA. I would out-night you, did no body come;
But, hark, I hear the
footing of a man.
Enter STEPHANO
LORENZO. Who comes so fast in silence of the night?
STEPHANO. A friend.
LORENZO. A friend! What friend? Your name, I pray you, friend?
STEPHANO. 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.
LORENZO. Who comes with her?
STEPHANO. None but a holy
hermit and her maid.
I pray you, is my master yet return'd?
LORENZO. 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
LAUNCELOT. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!
LORENZO. Who calls?
LAUNCELOT. Sola! Did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo! Sola,
sola!
LORENZO. Leave holloaing, man. Here!
LAUNCELOT. Sola! Where, where?
LORENZO. Here!
LAUNCELOT. 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
LORENZO. 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.
Enter MUSICIANS
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;
With sweetest touches
pierce your
mistress' ear.
And draw her home with music. [Music]
JESSICA. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
LORENZO. 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 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;
Since
nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature.
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;
The
motions of his spirit are dull:as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus.
Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music.
Enter PORTIA and NERISSA
PORTIA. 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.
NERISSA. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.
PORTIA. 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 itself, as doth an
inland brook
Into the main of waters. Music! hark!
NERISSA. It is your music, madam, of the house.
PORTIA. Nothing is good, I see, without respect;
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
NERISSA. Silence bestows that
virtue on it, madam.
PORTIA. The crow doth sing as
sweetly as the lark
When neither is attended; and I think
ne
nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a
musician than the wren.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise and true perfection!
Peace, ho! The moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd. [Music ceases]
LORENZO. That is the voice,
Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.
PORTIA. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,
By the bad voice.
LORENZO. Dear lady,
welcome home.
PORTIA. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare,
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Are they return'd?
LORENZO. Madam, they are not yet;
But there is come a
messenger before,
To
signify their coming.
PORTIA.. Go in, Nerissa;
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]
LORENZO. Your husband is at hand; I hear his
trumpet.
We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not.
PORTIA. This night
methinks is but the
daylight sick;
It looks a little paler; 'tis a day
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their followers
BASSANIO. We should hold day with the Antipodes,
If you would walk in
absence of the sun.
PORTIA. 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.
BASSANIO. I thank you, madam; give
welcome to my friend.
This is the man, this is Antonio,
To whom I am so
infinitely bound.
PORTIA. You should in all sense be much bound to him,
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
ANTONIO. No more than I am well acquitted of.
PORTIA. Sir, you are very
welcome to our house.
It must appear in other ways than words,
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.
GRATIANO. [To NERISSA] 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.
PORTIA. A quarrel, ho, already! What's the matter?
GRATIANO. 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.'
NERISSA. 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, God's my judge,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it.
GRATIANO. He will, an if he live to be a man.
NERISSA. Ay, if a woman live to be a man.
GRATIANO. 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.
PORTIA. 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.
BASSANIO. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off,
And swear I lost the ring defending it.
GRATIANO. 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.
PORTIA. What ring gave you, my lord?
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.
BASSANIO. If I could add a lie unto a fault,
I would deny it; but you see my finger