Your company at dinner.

Por.

That cannot be :

:

His ring I do accept most thankfully:
And so, I pray you, tell him furthermore,
I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house.
Gra. That I will do.
Ner.
Sir, I would speak with you.
[Aside to Por.] I'll see if I can get my husband's ring,
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.

Por. [Aside to Ner.] Thou mayst, I warrant.
have old swearing

That they did give the rings away to men ;

But we'll outface them, and outswear them too.

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We shall

[Aloud] Away! make haste: thou know'st where I will

tarry.

Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house?

ACT V.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I. Belmont. Avenue to PORTIA's house.

Enter LORENZO and JESSICA.

Lor. The 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 Troyan 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

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
Upon the wild sea banks and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.

Jes.

Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs

That did renew old son.

Lor.

In such a night

In such a night

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew

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

Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well,
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith

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Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

Jes. I would out-night you, did no body 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.

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.

Enter LAUNCELOT.

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

Lor. Who calls?

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Laun. Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Loren

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.

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[Erit Stephano.

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. 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

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But in his motion like an angel sings,

Still quiring to the young-eyed 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.

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,
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

[Music.

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 moved 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.

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.

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 itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Music! hark!

Ner. It is your music, madam. of the house.
Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect :
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark

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When neither is attended, and I think

The 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 awaked.

Lor.

That is the voice, Or I am much deceived, of Portia.

[Music ceases.

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

Are they return'd?

Lor.

But there is come a messenger before,

Madam, they are not yet;

Go in, Nerissa;

To signify their coming.

Por.

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

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[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 the 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.
Bass. I thank you, madam.

This is the man, this is Antonio,

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Give welcome to my friend.

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.

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Gra. [To Ner.] 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?
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, God's my judge,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on 's face that had it.
Gra. He will, and if he live to be a man.

Ner. Aye, 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 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.

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

Gra. My Lord Bassiano gave his ring away

Unto the judge that begg'd it and indeed

Deserved 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 received 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.

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