And find it out by Proclamation; Only for this I pray you pardon me. Por. I fee, Sir, you are liberal in Offers; Baff. Good Sir, this Ring was given me by my Wife ; And when she put it on, fhe made me vow That I fhould neither fell, nor give, nor lose it. Por. That 'fcufe ferves many Men to fave their Gifts; And if your Wife be not a mad Woman, And know how well I have deferv'd this Ring, Enter Portia and Neriffa. [Exit. [Exit Gra. [Exeunt. Par. 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 : Hath fent you here this Ring, and doth intreat Por. That cannot be. His Ring do I accept moft thankfully, And so I pray you tell him: Furthermore, I pray you fhew my Youth old Shylock's Houfe. Ner. Sir, I would fpeak with you. I'll fee if I can get my Husband's Ring Por. Thou may'ft, I warrant. We fhall have old fwearing, That they did give the Rings away to Men; But we'll out-face them, and out-fwear them too; Ner. Come, good Sir, will you fhew me to this House? [Exeunt. Lor. A CT V. SCENE I. SCENE Belmont. Enter Lorenzo and Jeffica. HE Moon fhines bright. In fuch a Night as this, And they did make no noife; in fuch a Night, Jef. In fuch a Night, Did Thisby fearfully o'er-trip the Dew, Lor. In fuch a Night, Stood Dido with a Willow in her Hand Jef. In fuch a Night, Medea gather'd the Inchanted Herbs That did renew old Afon. 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. In fuch a Night Did young Lorenzo fwear he lov'd her well, Lor. In fuch a Night, Did pretty Jeffica (like a little Shrew) Jef. I would out-night you, did no Body come: But hark, I hear the footing of a Man. Enter Messenger. Lor. Who comes fo faft, in filence of the Night? Lor. A Friend! what Friend? Your Name, I pray you, Friend? Mef. Stephano is my Name, and I bring word Lor. Who comes with her? Mef. None but a holy Hermit and her Maid. I 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 fee Mr. Lorenzo and Mrs Lorenzo? Sola, fola. Lor. Leave hollowing, Man: Herc. Laun. Sola, where? where? Lor. Here. Laun. Tell him, there's a Poft come from my Master, with his Horn full of good News; my Mafter will be here c'er Morning. Lor. Sweet Love, let's in, and there expect their coming. There's There's not the smallest Orb which thou behold'st, Still quiring to the young-ey'd Cherubims; Such Harmony is in immortal Souls; Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet Musick. Lor. The Reason is, your Spirits are attentive; By the fweet Power of Mufick. Therefore the Poet Let no fuch Man be trufted. Mark the Mufick. 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 Substitute shines brightly as a King Until a King be by; and then his State Empties it felf, as doth an inland Brook Into the Main of Waters. Mufick, hark! [Music! Ne Ner. It is the Mufick, Madam, of your House, Por. Nothing is good, I fee, without Refpe&t: Methinks it founds much fweeter than by Day. Ner. Silence beftows that Virtue on it, Madam. The Nightingale, if she should fing by Day, How many things by Seafon feafon'd are Mufick ceafes. Lor. That is the Voice, Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. Por. He knows me as the blind Man knows the Cuckow, by the bad Voice. Lor. Dear Lady, welcome Home. Por. We have been praying for our Husband's 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, Por. Go in, Neriffa, Give Order to my Servants, 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 a Trumpet; We are no Tell-tales, Madam, fear you not. Por. This Night methinks is but the Day-light fick; It looks a little paler; 'tis a Day, Such as the Day is when the Sun is hid. If Enter Baffanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their Followers. Baff. We should hold Day with the Antipodes, you would walk in Abfence of the Sun. Por. Let me give Light, but let me not be light; For a light Wife doth make a heavy Husband, And |