And in the morning early will we both
Fly toward Belmont; come, Anthonio.

Re-enter Portia and Neriffa.

[Exeunt.

Por. Enquire the Jew's house out, give him this
Deed,

And let him fign it; we'll away to night,
And be a day before our husbands home:
This Deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.

Enter Gratiano.

Gra. Fair Sir, you are well o'erta'en:
My lord Baffanio, upon more advice,

Hath fent you here this ring, and doth intreat
Your company at dinner.

Por. That cannot be.

This ring I do accept most thankfully,

And fo, I pray you, tell him; furthermore,

I pray you, fhew my Youth old Shylock's houfe.
Gra. That will I do.

Ner. Sir, I would fpeak with you.

I'll fee if I can get my husband's ring:

[To Por.

f

Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.
Por. Thou may'ft, I warrant.

fwearing,

We shall have old

That they did give the rings away to men;

But we'll out-face them, and out-swear them too: Away, make hafte, thou know'ft. where I will tarry. Ner. Come, good Sir, will you fhew me to this house ?

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I.

BEL M ON T.

A Grove, or green Place, before Portia's House. Enter Lorenzo and Jeffica.

LORENZO.

HE moon fhines bright: In fuch a night as

THE this,

When the sweet wind did gently kifs the trees,
And they did make no noise; in fuch a night,
Troylus, 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 Thisbe fearfully o'er-trip the dew;
And faw the lion's fhadow ere himself,
And ran dismayed away.

Lor. In fuch a night,

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

Jef. In fuch a night,

Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs,
That did renew old Æfon.

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 shrew)
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 so fast, 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 mistress will before the break of day

Be here at Belmont: she doth ftray about
By holy Croffes, where fhe kneels, and prays,
For happy wedlock hours.

I

Lor. Who comes with her?

Mef. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid. 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 house.

Enter Launcelot.

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

Lor. Who calls?

Laun. Sola! did you see mafter Lorenzo and mistress Lorenza? fola, fola!

Lor. Leave hollowing, 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.

Lor. Sweet love, let's in, and there expect their

coming.

And yet no matter: why fhould we go in?
My friend Stephano, fignify, I pray you,
Within the house, your miftrefs is at hand;

[Exit Stephano.

And

And bring your mufic forth into the air.

How sweet 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 vesture of decay
Doth grofly clofe us 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 mufic.

Jef. I'm never merry, when I hear sweet mufic.
[Mufic.
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 perchance but hear a trumpet found,
Or air of music touch their ears,

any

with patterns of bright gold] We fhould read Patens: a round broad Plate of Gold born in Heraldry: The cover of the Sacramental-Cup.

+ Such harmony is in immortal fouls;] But the Harmony here described is that of the Spheres, fo much celebrated by the Ancients. He fays, the fmalleft Orb fings like an Angel; and then fubjoins, such Harmony is in immortal Souls: But the Harmony of Angels is not here meant, but of the Orbs. Nor are we to think, that here the Poet alludes to the Notion, that each Orb has its Intelligence or Angel to direct it; for then with no Propriety could he fay, the Orb fung like an Angel: He should rather have faid, the Angel in the Orb fung. We muft therefore correct the Line thus ;

Such harmony is in immortal sounds :

i. e. in the Mufic of the Spheres.

You

You shall perceive them make a mutual stand;
Their favage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,

By the fweet power of mufic. Therefore, the Poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods;
Since nought so stockish, 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 sweet sounds,
Is fit for treafons, ftratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his fpirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:

Let no such man be trufted-Mark the music.

Enter Portia and Neriffa.

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

[Mufic.

Ner. It is the mufic, Madam, of your house. Por. Nothing is good, I fee, without respect : Methinks, it founds much fweeter than by day. 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 praise, and true perfection? Peace! how the moon fleeps with Endimion, And would not be awaked!

[Mufic ceafes.

Lor.