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 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, Por. Go, Neriffa, Give order to my fervants, that they take I 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 Baffanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their followers. If Baff. We fhould hold day with the Antipodes, you would walk in absence 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 Bassanio fo from me; But God fort all! you're welcome home, my lord. Baff. I thank you, Madam: give welcome to my friend; This is the man, this is Anthonio, To whom I am fo infinitely bound. Por. You should in all fenfe be much bound to him; For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. Anth. Anth. 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 fcant this breathing courtesy. Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me wrong; In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. [To Neriffa. 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, 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 poesy, or the value? The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face, that had it. A kind of boy, a little fcrubbed boy, I could not for my heart deny it him. Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, I gave my love a ring, and made him fwear You You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. Baff. Why, I were beft to cut my left hand off, And fwear, I loft the ring defending it. [Afide. Gra. My lord Baffanio gave his ring away Por. What ring gave you, my lord? Por. Even fo void is your falfe heart of truth. Ner. Nor I in yours, 'Till I again fee mine, Baff. Sweet Portia, If you did know to whom I gave the ring, When nought would be accepted but the ring, Or I'll die for't, but fome woman had the ring. Baff. No, by mine honour, Madam, by my foul, No No woman had it, but a Civil Doctor, Who did refufe three thousand ducats of me, And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him, And fuffer'd him to go difpleas'd away; Ev'n he, that did uphold the very life Of my dear friend. What fhould I fay, sweet lady? I was enforc'd to send it after him; I was befet with fhame and courtesy; My honour would not let ingratitude So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady, Por. Let not that Doctor e'er come near my house, Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd, And that which you did fwear to keep for me: I'll not deny him any thing I have, No, not my body, nor my hufband's bed; Lie not a night from home; watch me, like Argus : Now, by mine honour, which is yet my own, Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd, How you do leave me to mine own protection. Gra. Well, do you fo; let me not take him then; For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. Anth. I am th' unhappy subject of these quarrels. Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome, notwithstanding. Baff. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong. Por. Mark you but that! In both mine eyes he doubly fees himself; Bafl Baff. Nay, but here me : Pardon this fault, and by my foul I fwear, Anth. I once did lend my body for his weal; Por. Then you fhall be his furety; give him this, And bid him keep it better than the other. Anth. Here, lord Baffanio, fwear to keep this ring. Baff. By heav'n, it is the fame I gave the Doctor, Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Baffanio; For by this ring the Doctor lay with me. Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano, For that fame scrubbed boy, the Doctor's clerk, In lieu of this, laft night did lie with me. Gra. Why, this is like the mending of high-ways In fummer, where the ways are fair enough: What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it? Por. Speak not fo grofly; you are all amaz'd; Here is a letter, read it at your leifure; It comes from Padua, from Bellario: There you fhall find, that Portia was the Doctor; Shall witness I fet forth as foon as you, Anth. I am dumb. Baff. Were you the Doctor, and I knew you not? Gra. |