Steph. None, but a holy hermit and her maid. I pray you, is my master yet returned?

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.

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

And yet no matter: why should we go in?
My friend Stepháno, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your music forth into the air.

[Exit STEPHANO.

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!
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st,
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins :
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:

Let no such man be trusted.-Mark the music.
Enter PORTIA and NERISSA, at a distance.
Por. That light we see is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

Ner. When the moon shone we did not see the
candle.

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute 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. Music! hark!

Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. Por. Nothing is good, I see, without respect: Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. Ner. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended; and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren. How many things by season seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection!— Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awaked! [Music ceases.

It must appear in other ways than words;
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy.

[GRATIANO and NERISSA seem 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, 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; whose posy was
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife; "Love me, and leave me not."
Ner. What talk you of the posy or the value?

You swore to me when I did give it you,
That you would wear it till your hour of death,
And that it should 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 his 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 scrubbed boy
No higher than thyself; the judge's clerk;
A prating boy, that begged 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 so slightly with your wife's first gift;
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger,
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear
Never to part with it; and here he stands:
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it,
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth
That the world masters. Now in faith, Gratiano,
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief:
An 't were to me, I should be mad at it.

Bass. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And swear I lost the ring defending it. [Aside. Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the judge, that begged it, and indeed Deserved it too: and then the boy, his clerk, That took some pains in writing, he begged mine: And neither man nor master would take aught But the two rings.

Por. What ring gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you received of me.

Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault,

I would deny it; but you see my finger
Hath not the ring upon it; it is gone.

Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth.
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed
Until I see the ring.

Sweet Portia,

Till I again see mine.

Bass.

If you did know to whom I
gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,

When nought would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Por. If you had known the virtue of the ring,
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
Or your own honour to contain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleased to have defended it
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty
To urge the thing held as a ceremony?
Nerissa teaches me what to believe;
I'll die for 't but some woman had the ring.
Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,

Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,
And begged the ring; the which I did deny him,
And suffered him to go displeased away;
Even he that had held up the very life

Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady?

I

was enforced to send it after him;

I was beset with shame and courtesy ;

My honour would not let ingratitude
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady;
For, by these blesséd candles of the night,
Had you been there, I think you would have
begged

The ring of me to give the worthy doctor.

Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my

house.

Since he hath got the jewel that I loved,
And that which you did swear to keep for me,
I will become as liberal as you;

I'll not deny him any thing I have;
No, not my body, nor my husband's bed:
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it.

Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus:
If
you do not, if I be left alone,

Now by mine honour, which is yet mine own, I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.

Ner. And I his clerk: therefore be well advised How you do leave me to mine own protection. Gra. Well, do you so: let not me take him,

In summer, where the ways are fair enough:
What! are we cuckolds ere we have deserved it?
Por. Speak not so grossly.-You are all amazed:
Here is a letter, read it at your leisure;
It comes from Padua, from Bellario:
There you shall find that Portia was the doctor;
Nerissa there, her clerk. Lorenzo here
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you,
And but e'en now returned; I have not yet
Entered my house.-Antonio, you are welcome;
And I have better news in store for you
Than you expect: unseal this letter soon;
There you shall find, three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbour suddenly.
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.

My clerk hath some good comforts too for you.

Ner. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. There do I give to you and Jessica, From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, After his death, of all he dies possessed of. Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starvéd people.

Por.

It is almost morning,

And yet I am sure you are not satisfied
Of these events at full. Let us go in ;
And charge us there upon intergatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.

Gra. Let it be so. The first intergatory
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay,
Or go to bed now, being two hours to day:
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing
So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [Exeunt.