Por. Art thou contented, Jew, what dost thou say? Por. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. Shy. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence; I am not well; send the deed after me, And I will sign it. Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. Gra. In christening thou shalt have two godfathers; Had I been judge, thou should'st have had ten more, To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. [Exit SHY. Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. Por. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon; I must away this night toward Padua, And it is meet, I presently set forth. Duke. I am sorry, that your leisure serves you not. -Antonio, gratify this gentleman; For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. [Exe. Duke, Magnificoes, and Train. Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend, Por. He is well paid, that is well satisfied; Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further; Por. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. Bass. This ring, good sir,-alas, it is a trifle; [8] i, e. a jury of twelve men, to condemn thee to be hanged. THEOB. And now, methinks, I have a mind to it. Bass. There's more depends on this, than on the value. The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, And find it out by proclamation; Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: You taught me first to beg; and now, methinks, You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife; And, when she put it on, she made me vow, That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts. An if your wife be not a mad woman, And know how well I have deserv'd this ring, [Exe. PORTIA and NERISSA, Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him, Fly toward Belmont: Come, Antonio. The same. SCENE II. [Ex. GRA. [Exeunt. A Street. Enter PORTIA and NERISSA. Por. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed, And let him sign it; we'll away to-night, And be a day before our husbands home : Gra. Fair sir, you are well overtaken : Hath sent you here this ring; and doth entreat Por. That cannot be : This ring I do accept most thankfully, And so, I pray you, tell him: Furthermore, I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house. Ner. Sir, I would speak with you : I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, [TO PORTIA. Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. Por. Thou may'st, I warrant; We shall have old swearing, That they did give the rings away to men ; But we'll outface them, and outswear them too.- ACT V. SCENE I.-Belmont. Avenue to PORTIA's House. Enter LORENZO and JESSICA. Lorenzo. THE moon shines bright:-In such a night as this, Jes. In such a night, Did Thisbe fearfully o'er-trip the dew; And ran dismay'd away. Lor. In such a night, Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the wild sea-banks, and wav'd her love Jes. In such a night, Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs That did renew old son. Lor. In such a night, Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew: Jes. And in such a night, Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well; Lor. And in such a night, Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 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? Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, I friend? pray you, 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 I 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 mistress 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 STE. [Exit. 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 ;9 There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st, [9] A patine, from patina, Lat. A patine is the small flat dish or plate used with the chalice, in the administration of the eucharist. In the time of popery, and probably in the following age, it was commonly made of gold. MAL. But in his motion like an angel sings, Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn ;' [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 poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods [1] Diana is the moon, who is in the next scene represented as sleeping JOHNSON [2] The thought here is extremely fine; as if the being affected with music was only the harmony between the internal [music in himself] and the external music [concord of sweet sounds;] which were mutually affected like unison strings. This whole speech could not choose but please an English audience, whose great passion, as well then as now, was love of music. "Jam vero video naturam (says Erasmus in praise of Folly,) ut singulis nationibus, ac pene civitatibus, communem quandam inse visse Philautiam: atque hinc fieri, ut Britanni, præter alia. Formam, Musicam, & lautas Mensas proprie sibi vindicent." WARBURTON. This passage, which is neither pregnant with physical and moral truth, nor poetically beautiful in an eminent degree, has constantly enjoyed the good fortune to be repeated by those whose inhospitable memories would have refused to admit or retain any other sentiment or description of the same author, however exalted or just. The truth is, that it furnishes the vacant fiddler with something to say in defence of his profession, and supplies the coxcomb in music with an invective against such as do not pretend to discover all the various powers of language in articulate sounds. It is no uncommon thing to see those who would think half a day well spent in reconciling a couple of jarring strings to unison, and yet would make no scruple in employing the other half in setting two of the most intimate friends at variance. So much for the certitude of being taught morality in the school of music, -ite Ferte citi flammas, date tela. STEEVENS. |