Bass. There's more depends on this, than on the value. The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: An if your wife be not a mad woman, And know how well I have deserv'd this ring, For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you! Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him, Give him the ring; and bring him, if thou canst, Unto Antonio's house :-away, make haste. [Exit Gratiano Come, you and I will thither presently; [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. A street. Enter Portia and Nerissa. 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: Enter Gratiano. Gra. Fair sir, you are well overtaken : My lord Bassanio, upon more advice,1 Hath sent you here this ring; and doth entreat Por. That cannot be : This ring I do accept most thankfully, And so, I pray you, tell him: Furthermore, Ner. 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. ACT V. SCENE I-Belmont. Avenue to Portia's house. Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. Lor. The moon shines bright:-In such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, Jes. In such a night, Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew; And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, And ran dismay'd away. Lor. In such a night, Stood Dido with a willow in her hand (1) Reflection. Upon the wild sea-banks, and wav'd her love Jes. Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs That did renew old son. Lor. In such a night, 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. And in such a night, Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well; Lor. And in such a night, Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, Jes. I would out-night you, did nobody come : But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. Enter Stephano. Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the night? Steph. A friend. 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 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 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 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? [Exit Stephano. 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; Jes. I am never merry, when I hear sweet music. [Music. Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: For do but note a wild and wanton herd, (1) A small flat dish, used in the administration of the Eucharist. Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, By the sweet power of music: Therefore, the poet floods; Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, 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: Ner. It is your music, madam, of the house. |