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 maiter will be here ere morning. Lor. Sweet love, let's in, and there expect their coming. And yet no matter why fhould we go in ? [Exit Stephano. Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubims; (19) Such Harmony is in immortal Souls; ] But the Harmony here defcribed is That of the Spheres, fo much celebrated by the Antients. He fays, the smallest Orb fings like an Angel; and then fubjoins, Such Harmony is in immortal Souls: But the Harmony of Angels is not here meant, but of the Orbs. Nor are we to think, that here the Poet alludes to the Notion, that each Orb has its Intelligence or Angel to direct it; for then with no Propriety could he fay, the Orb fung like an Angel: he should rather have faid, the Angel in the Orb fung. We must therefore correct the Line thus; Such Harmony is in immortal Sounds: Jef. I'm never merry, when I hear sweet mufick. You fhall perceive them make a mutual stand; By the fweet power of mufick. Therefore, the Poet Let no fuch man be trusted Mark the mufick. Enter Portia and Neriffa. 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 Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less; [Mufick. Ner. It is the mufick, Madam, of your house. When When every goofe is cackling, would be thought How many things by feafon feafon'd are Lor. That is the voice, Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. [Mufick 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, Por. Go, Neriffa, Give order to my fervants, that they take Nor you, Lorenzo; Jeffica, nor you. [A Tucket founds. 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. Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light; But God fort all! you're welcome home, my lord. 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 ; must appear in other ways than words; herefore I fcant this breathing courtefie. Gra. By yonder moon, I fwear, you do me wrong; a faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. [To Neriffa. Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, ince 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 poefie was or all the world like cutler's poetry Jpon a knife; Love me, and leave me not. Ner. What talk you of the poefie, 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 lye with you in your grave: Tho' not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, You should have been refpective, 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 thy felf, the Judge's clerk; 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 first gift; A thing ftuck on with oaths upon your finger, And 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 fworn for him, he would not leave it, Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth That the world mafters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, You give your wife too unkind a caufe of grief; An 'twere to me, I fhould be mad at it. Baff. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And And fwear, I loft the ring defending it. Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away Unto the Judge that begg'd it, and, indeed, Deferv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, That took fome pains in writing, He begg'd mine; And neither man, nor maker, would take aught But the two rings. Por. What ring gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. I would deny it; but you fee my finger 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, gave the ring, If you did know for whom I And would conceive for what I gave Baff. No, by mine honour, Madam, by my foul, No woman had it, but a Civil Doctor, Who did refuse three thoufand ducats of me. |