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Lor. Leave hollaing, man;—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.
[Erit. · Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their
Enter Musicians. Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, And draw her home with musick. Jes. I am never merry, when I hear sweet musick.
[Musick. Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: For do but note a wild and wanton herd, Or race of youthful and un handled 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 musick touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, By the sweet pow'r of musick: Therefore, the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage, But musick for the time doth change his nature: The man that hath no musick in himself, Nor is not mov'd 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 musick.
Enter Portia and Nerissa, at a distance.
Ner. It is your musick, 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, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awak'd! [Musick 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.
Madam, they are not yet;
Go in, Nerissa,
[A tucket sounds. Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumpet: We are no telltales, madam; fear you not.
Por. This night, methinks, is but the daylight
sick, It looks a little paler; 'tis a day, Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
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; 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, 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: 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
Ner. What talk you of the posy, or the value?
you, To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, And riveted so 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 'twere 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