Array MyBooks Classics - The Complete Works of William Shakespeare - Illustrated edition (37 plays, 160 sonnets and 5 Poetry Books With Active Table of Contents)

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.

This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo.

Enter Gratiano.

Gra.

Fair sir, you are well o’erta’en.

My Lord Bassanio upon more advice

Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat

Your company at dinner.

Por.

That cannot be.

His ring I do accept most thankfully,

And so I pray you tell him; furthermore,

I pray you show my youth old Shylock’s house.

Gra.

That will I do.

Ner.

Sir, I would speak with you.

[Aside to Portia.]

I’ll see if I can get my husband’s ring,

Which I did make him swear to keep for ever.

Por. [Aside to Nerissa.]

Thou mayst, 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.—

Away, make haste. Thou know’st where I will tarry.

Ner.

Come, good sir, will you show me to this house?

[Exeunt.]

¶

Enter Lorenzo and Jessica.

Lor.

The moon shines bright. In such a night as this,

When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,

And they did make no noise, in such a night

Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls,

And sigh’d his soul toward the Grecian tents,

Where Cressid lay that night.

Jes.

In such a night

Did Thisby fearfully o’ertrip the dew,

And saw the lion’s shadow ere himself,

And ran dismayed away.

Lor.

In such a night

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand

Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love

To come again to Carthage.

Jes.

In such a night

Medea gathered the enchanted herbs

That did renew old Aeson.

Lor.

In such a night

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew,

And with an unthrift love did run from Venice,

As far as Belmont.

Jes.

In such a night

Did young Lorenzo swear he lov’d her well,

Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,

And ne’er a true one.

Lor.

In such a night

Did pretty Jessica (like a little shrow)

Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

Jes.

I would out-night you, did nobody come;

But hark, I hear the footing of a man.

Enter a Messenger.

Lor.

Who comes so fast in silence of the night?

Mess.

A friend.

Lor.

A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend?

Mess.

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

For happy wedlock hours.

Lor.

Who comes with her?

Mess.

None but a holy hermit and her maid.

I 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 Clown [Launcelot].

Laun. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!

Lor. Who calls?

Laun. Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo, sola, sola!

Lor. Leave hollowing, 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 [Stephano], signify, I pray you,

Within the house, your mistress is at hand,

And bring your music forth into the air.

[Exit Messenger.]

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 patens 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-ey’d cherubins;

Such harmony is in immortal souls,

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay

Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

[Enter Musicians.]

Come ho, and wake Diana with a hymn,

With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear,

And draw her home with music.

Play 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,

Which is the hot condition of their blood,

If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,

Or any air of music touch their ears,

You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,

Their savage eyes turn’d to a modest gaze,

By the sweet power of music; therefore the poet

Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods;

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.

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 season’d are

To their right praise and true perfection!

Peace ho! the Moon sleeps with Endymion,

And would not be awak’d.

[Music ceases.]

Lor.

That is the voice,

Or I am much deceiv’d, of Portia.

Por.

He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,

By the bad voice!

Lor.

Dear lady, welcome home!

Por.

We have been praying for our husbands’ welfare,

Which speed we hope the better for our words.

Are they return’d?

Lor.

Madam, they are not yet;

But there is come a messenger before,

To signify their coming.

Por.

Go in, Nerissa.

Give order to my servants that they take

No note at all of our being absent hence—