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Belmont. The Avenue to PORTIAS House. | |
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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 | 5 |
| Troilus methinks mounted the Troyan walls, | |
| And sighd his soul toward the Grecian tents, | |
| Where Cressid lay that night. | |
| Jes. In such a night | |
| Did Thisbe fearfully oertrip the dew, | 10 |
| And saw the lions shadow ere himself, | |
| And ran dismayd away. | |
| Lor. In such a night | |
| Stood Dido with a willow in her hand | |
| Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love | 15 |
| To come again to Carthage. | |
| Jes. In such a night | |
| Medea gatherd the enchanted herbs | |
| That did renew old Æson. | |
| Lor. In such a night | 20 |
| 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 lovd her well, | 25 |
| Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, | |
| And neer a true one. | |
| Lor. In such a night | |
| Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, | |
| Slander her love, and he forgave it her. | 30 |
| Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come; | |
| But, hark! I hear the footing of a man. | |
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Enter STEPHANO. | |
| Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night? | |
| Steph. A friend. | 35 |
| Lor. A friend! what friend? your name, I pray you, friend. | |
| Steph. 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 | 40 |
| For happy wedlock hours. | |
| Lor. Who comes with her? | |
| Steph. None, but a holy hermit and her maid. | |
| I pray you, is my master yet returnd? | |
| Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. | 45 |
| But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, | |
| And ceremoniously let us prepare | |
| Some welcome for the mistress of the house. | |
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Enter LAUNCELOT. | |
| Laun. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola! | 50 |
| Lor. Who calls? | |
| Laun. Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo? | |
| Master Lorenzo! sola, sola! | |
| Lor. Leave hollaing, man; here. | |
| Laun. Sola! where? where? | 55 |
| Lor. Here. | |
| Laun. Tell him theres a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news: my master will be here ere morning. [Exit. | |
| Lor. Sweet soul, lets in, and there expect their coming. | |
| And yet no matter; why should we go in? | |
| My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, | 60 |
| 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 | 65 |
| Become the touches of sweet harmony. | |
| Sit, Jessica: look, how the floor of heaven | |
| Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: | |
| Theres not the smallest orb which thou beholdst | |
| But in his motion like an angel sings, | 70 |
| 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. | |
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Enter Musicians. | 75 |
| Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn: | |
| With sweetest touches pierce your mistress ear, | |
| And draw her home with music. [Music. | |
| Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. | |
| Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: | 80 |
| 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, | 85 |
| Or any air of music touch their ears, | |
| You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, | |
| Their savage eyes turnd to a modest gaze | |
| By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet | |
| Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; | 90 |
| 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 movd with concord of sweet sounds, | |
| Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; | 95 |
| The motions of his spirit are dull as night, | |
| And his affections dark as Erebus: | |
| Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. | |
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Enter PORTIA and NERISSA, at a distance. | |
| Por. That light we see is burning in my hall. | 100 |
| 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 | 105 |
| 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: | 110 |
| 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, | 115 |
| When every goose is cackling, would be thought | |
| No better a musician than the wren. | |
| How many things by season seasond are | |
| To their right praise and true perfection! | |
| Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion, | 120 |
| And would not be awakd! [Music ceases. | |
| Lor. That is the voice, | |
| Or I am much deceivd, of Portia. | |
| Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the cuckoo, | |
| By the bad voice. | 125 |
| 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 returnd? | |
| Lor. Madam, they are not yet; | 130 |
| 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; | 135 |
| Nor you, Lorenzo; Jessica, nor you. [A tucket sounds. | |
| Lor. Your husband is at hand; I hear his trumpet: | |
| We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. | |
| Por. This night methinks is but the daylight sick; | |
| It looks a little paler: tis a day, | 140 |
| Such as the day is when the sun is hid. | |
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Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, GRATIANO, and their Followers. | |
| Bass. We should hold day with the Antipodes, | |
| If you would walk in absence of the sun. | |
| Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light; | 145 |
| For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, | |
| And never be Bassanio so for me: | |
| But God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord. | |
| Bass. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend: | |
| This is the man, this is Antonio, | 150 |
| To whom I am so infinitely bound. | |
| Por. You should in all sense be much bound to him, | |
| For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. | |
| Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. | |
| Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our house: | 155 |
| It must appear in other ways than words, | |
| Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. | |
| Gra. [To NERISSA.] By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong; | |
| In faith, I gave it to the judges clerk: | |
| Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, | 160 |
| Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. | |
| Por. A quarrel, ho, already! whats the matter? | |
| Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring | |
| That she did give me, whose poesy was | |
| For all the world like cutlers poetry | 165 |
| 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: | 170 |
| Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths, | |
| You should have been respective and have kept it. | |
| Gave it a judges clerk! no, Gods my judge, | |
| The clerk will neer wear hair on s face that had it. | |
| Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. | 175 |
| 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 judges clerk. | |
| A prating boy, that beggd it as a fee: | 180 |
| 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 wifes first gift; | |
| A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, | |
| And riveted so with faith unto your flesh. | 185 |
| 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, | 190 |
| You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief: | |
| An twere to me, I should be mad at it. | |
| Bass. [Aside.] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, | |
| And swear I lost the ring defending it. | |
| Gra. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away | 195 |
| Unto the judge that beggd it, and indeed | |
| Deservd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, | |
| That took some pains in writing, he beggd mine; | |
| And neither man nor master would take aught | |
| But the two rings. | 200 |
| Por. What ring gave you, my lord? | |
| Not that, I hope, that you receivd 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. | 205 |
| Por. Even so void is your false heart of truth. | |
| By heaven, I will neer come in your bed | |
| Until I see the ring. | |
| Ner. Nor I in yours, | |
| Till I again see mine. | 210 |
| Bass. Sweet Portia, | |
| 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, | 215 |
| When naught 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, | 220 |
| You would not then have parted with the ring. | |
| What man is there so much unreasonable, | |
| If you had pleasd to have defended it | |
| With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty | |
| To urge the thing held as a ceremony? | 225 |
| Nerissa teaches me what to believe: | |
| Ill die for t but some woman had the ring. | |
| Bass. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul, | |
| No woman had it; but a civil doctor, | |
| Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, | 230 |
| And beggd the ring, the which I did deny him, | |
| And sufferd him to go displeasd away; | |
| Even he that did uphold the very life | |
| Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? | |
| I was enforcd to send it after him; | 235 |
| I was beset with shame and courtesy; | |
| My honour would not let ingratitude | |
| So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady, | |
| For, by these blessed candles of the night, | |
| Had you been there, I think you would have beggd | 240 |
| The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. | |
| Por. Let not that doctor eer come near my house. | |
| Since he hath got the jewel that I lovd, | |
| And that which you did swear to keep for me, | |
| I will become as liberal as you; | 245 |
| Ill not deny him anything I have; | |
| No, not my body, nor my husbands 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, | 250 |
| Now by mine honour, which is yet mine own, | |
| Ill have that doctor for my bedfellow. | |
| Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advisd | |
| How you do leave me to mine own protection. | |
| Gra. Well, do you so: let me not take him, then; | 255 |
| For if I do, Ill mar the young clerks pen. | |
| Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. | |
| Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwithstanding. | |
| Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong; | |
| And in the hearing of these many friends, | 260 |
| I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, | |
| Wherein I see myself, | |
| Por. Mark you but that! | |
| In both my eyes he doubly sees himself; | |
| In each eye, one: swear by your double self, | 265 |
| And theres an oath of credit. | |
| Bass. Nay, but hear me: | |
| Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear | |
| I never more will break an oath with thee. | |
| Ant. I once did lend my body for his wealth, | 270 |
| Which, but for him that had your husbands ring, | |
| Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again, | |
| My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord | |
| Will never more break faith advisedly. | |
| Por. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this, | 275 |
| And bid him keep it better than the other. | |
| Ant. Here, Lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring. | |
| Bass. By heaven! it is the same I gave the doctor! | |
| Por. I had it of him: pardon me, Bassanio, | |
| For, by this ring, the doctor lay with me. | 280 |
| Ner. And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano; | |
| For that same scrubbed boy, the doctors clerk, | |
| In lieu of this last night did lie with me. | |
| Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways | |
| In summer, where the ways are fair enough. | 285 |
| What! are we cuckolds ere we have deservd it? | |
| Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all amazd: | |
| Here is a letter; read it at your leisure; | |
| It comes from Padua, from Bellario: | |
| There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, | 290 |
| Nerissa, there, her clerk: Lorenzo here | |
| Shall witness I set forth as soon as you | |
| And even but now returnd; I have not yet | |
| Enterd my house. Antonio, you are welcome; | |
| And I have better news in store for you | 295 |
| 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. | 300 |
| Ant. I am dumb. | |
| Bass. Were you the doctor and I knew you not? | |
| Gra. Were you the clerk that is to make me cuckold? | |
| Ner. Ay; but the clerk that never means to do it, | |
| Unless he live until he be a man. | 305 |
| Bass. Sweet doctor, you shall be my bedfellow: | |
| When I am absent, then, lie with my wife. | |
| Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living; | |
| For here I read for certain that my ships | |
| Are safely come to road. | 310 |
| Por. How now, Lorenzo! | |
| My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. | |
| Ner. Ay, and Ill give them him without a fee. | |
| There do I give to you and Jessica, | |
| From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, | 315 |
| After his death, of all he dies possessd of. | |
| Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way | |
| Of starved people. | |
| Por. It is almost morning, | |
| And yet I am sure you are not satisfied | 320 |
| 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, | 325 |
| Wher 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 doctors clerk. | |
| Well, while I live Ill fear no other thing | 330 |
| So sore as keeping safe Nerissas ring. [Exeunt. | |
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