Belmont.

ACT V. SCENE I.

A grove, or green place, before PORTIA'S boufe. Enter LORENZO and JESSICA.

Lorenzo.

THE moon fhines bright :—in such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kifs the trees,
And they did make no noife; in fuch a night,
Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan wall,
And figh'd his foul towards 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 difmay'd away.

Lor. In fuch a night,

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand

Upon the wild fea-banks, and wav'd her love
To come again to Carthage.

Jef. In fuch a night,

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

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 such 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 fhrew,

Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

Jef. I would out-night you, did nobody come : But hark, I hear the footing of a man.

Enter a Servant.

Lor. Who comes fo faft in filence of the night?
Serv. A friend.

Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, I pray you friend?

Serv. Stephano is my name; and I bring word, My miftrefs will before the break of day Be here at Belmont : fhe doth ftray about By holy croffes, where the kneels and prays For happy wedlock hours.

Lor. Who comes with her?

Serv. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid.I pray you, is my mafter yet return'd?

Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. But go we in, I pray thee, Jeffica,

And ceremoniously let us prepare

Some welcome for the mistress 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 poft come from my mafter, with his horn full of good news; my mafter will be here. ere morning, fweet foul.

Lor. 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 houfe, your mistrefs is at hand;

[Exit.

And bring your mufic forth into the air.- [Exit Serv.
How fweet the moonlight fleeps upon this bank!
Here will we fit, and let the founds of mufic
Creep in our ears; foft ftilnefs, and the night
Become the touches of fweet harmony.
Sit, Jeffica: Look, how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with pattens of bright gold ;[1]
There's not the fmalleft orb, which thou behold'ft,
But in his motion like an angel fings,
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubims:
Such harmony is in immortal fouls!
But, whilft this muddy vesture of decay

Doth grofsly close it in, we cannot hear it.-
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn ;[2]

[1] We should read Patens: a round broad plate of gold, borne in heraldry. WARB.

[2] Diana is the moon, who is in the next scene represented as fleeping.

JOHNS.

With sweetest touches pierce your miftrefs' ear,
And draw her home with mufic.

[Mufic.

Jef. I am never merry when I hear fweet mufic. Lor. The reafon is, your fpirits 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 any air of mufic touch their ears,

You fhall perceive them make a mutual ftand,
Their favage eyes turn to a modest gaze,

By the sweet power of mufic: Therefore, the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, ftones, and floods;
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But mufic for a time doth change his nature:
The man that hath no mufic in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of fweet founds,
Is fit for treafons, ftratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his fpirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:

Let no fuch man be trusted.[3]-Mark the mufic.
Enter PORTIA and NERISSA, at a distance.

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.

[3] The thought here is extremely fine: as if the being affected with mufic was only the harmony between the internal mufic in himself] and the external mufic [concord of fweet founds]; which were mutually affected like unifon ftrings. This whole fpeech could not choofe but pleafe an English audience, whofe great paflion, as well then as now, was love of Mufic. "Jam vero video naturam (fays Erafmus in praife of folly) ut fingulis nationious, ac pene civitatibus, communem quandam, infeviffe Phifautiam atque hinc heri, ut Britanni præter alia Formam, MUSICAM, & lautas Menfas proprie fibi vindicent." WARB.

This paffage, which is neither pregnant with phyfical or moral truth, nor poetically beautiful in an eminent degree, has conftantly enjoyed the good fortune to be repeated by thofe whofe inhofpitable memories would have refused to admit or retain any other fentiment or defcription of the fame author, however exalted or jult. The truth is, that it furnishes the vacant fiddler with fomething to fay in defence of his profelion, and fupplies the coxcomb in mafic, with an invective against fuch as do not pretend to difcover all the various powers of language in inarticulate founds.

It is no uncommon thing to fee thofe who would think half a day well fpent in reconciling a couple of jarring rings to unifon, and yet would make no fcruple to employ the other half in letting two of the moft intimate friends at variance. So much for the certitude of being taught morality in the fchool of mufic.

-ite

Ferte citi flammas, date tela-

STEEV.

Ner, When the moon fhone, we did not fee the candle. Por. So doth the greater glory dim the lefs: A fubftitute 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.-Mufic! hark !

[Mufic

Ner. It is your mufic, madam, of the house. Por. Nothing is good, I fee, without respect : Methinks it founds much fweeter than by day.

Ner. Silence beftows that virtue on it, madam.
Por. The crow doth fing as fweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended; and, I think,
The nightingale, if the 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 praife, and true perfection?
-Peace! how the moon fleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd!

Lor. That is the voice,

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.

[Mufic ceafes.

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 husbands' healths, 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,

To fignify their coming.

Por. Go, Neriffa,

Give order to my fervants, that they take

No note at all of our being abfent hence.

Nor you, Lorenzo ;-Jeffica, nor you. [A tucket founds. Lor. Your hufband is at hand, I hear his 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 fun is hid.

Enter BASSANIO, ANTHONIO, GRATIANO, and their Followers.

Baff. We fhould hold day with the antipodes, If you fhould walk in abfence of the fun.

Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light; For a light wife doth make a heavy husband,

And never be Baffanio fo for me;

But God fort all !-You are welcome home, my lord.

Baff. I thank you, madam.

friend.

Give welcome to my

-This is the man, this is Anthonio,

To whom I am fo infinitely bound.

Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him ; For, as I hear, he was much bound for you., Anth. No more than I am well acquitted of. Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : It muft appear in other ways than words; Therefore I fcant this breathing courtefy.

[GRATIANO and NERISSA feem to talk apart. Gra. 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, fo 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; whofe poefy was,
For all the world, like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not.

Ner. What, talk you of the poefy, or the value ? You fwore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it till your hour of death; And that it fhould 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 !-but well I know, The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it. Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. Ner. Ay, 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 fcrubbed boy,

No higher than thyfelf, 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 fo flightly with your wife's firft gift; A thing ftuck on with oaths upon your finger, And rivetted with faith unto your flesh.

I gave my love a ring, and made him swear