The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, Por. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: You taught me first to beg; and now, methinks, You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife; And, when she put it on, she made me vow, An if your wife be not a mad woman, Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him, Give him the ring; and bring him, if thou canst, Unto Antonio's house :-away, make haste. 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, Gra. Fair sir, you are well overtaken: Hath sent you here this ring; and doth entreat Your company at dinner. Por. That cannot be: This ring I do accept most thankfully, VOL. II. T Gra. That will I do. Ner. Sir, I would speak with you : [To PORTIA. Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. Por. Thou may'st, I warrant: We shall have old swearing, That they did give the rings away to men; Ner. Come, good sir, will you show me to 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, And they did make no noise: in such a night, Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls, And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, Where Cressid lay that night. In such a night, Jes. Lor. In such a night, Stood Dido, with a willow in her hand, Jes. Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs 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; Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, And ne'er a true one. Lor. And in such a night, Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 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 ? Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night, But in his motion like an angel sings, Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: Which is the hot condition of their blood; You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and 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 musick. 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: When neither is attended; and, I think, How many things by season season'd are Lor. Or I am much deceived, 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 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, Such as the day is when the sun is hid. |