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,
Troylus methinks mounted the Troyan Wall,
And sigh'd his Soul toward the Grecian Tents,
Where Cressed lay that Night.

Jes.
In such a Night,
Did Thisby fearfully o'er-trip the Dew,
And saw the Lion's Shadow e'er himself,
And ran dismay'd away.

Lor.
In such a Night,
Stood Dido with a Willow in her Hand
Upon the wide Sea-banks, and waft her Love
To come again to Carthage.

Jes.
In such a Night,
Medea gather'd the Inchanted Herbs
That did renew old Æson.

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 Shrew)
Slander her Love, and he forgave it her.

Jes.
I would out-night you, did no Body come:
But hark, I hear the footing of a Man. Enter Messenger.

Lor.
Who comes so fast, in silence of the Night?

Mes.
A Friend.

Lor.

A Friend! what Friend? Your name, I pray you, Friend?

Mes.
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?

Mes.
None but a holy Hermit and her Maid.
I pray you is my Master yet return'd?

Lor.
He is not, nor have we yet 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 Mr. Lorenzo and Mrs 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 e'er Morning.

Lor.
Sweet Love, let's in, and there expect their coming.
And yet no matter: Why should we go in?
My Friend Stephano, signifie, I pray you,
Within the House, your Mistress is at hand,
And bring your Musick forth into the Air.
How sweet the Moon-light sleeps upon this Bank;
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of Musick
Creep in our Ears; soft Stilness, and the Night
Become the touches of sweet Harmony.
Sit, Jessica, look how the Floor of Heav'n
Is thick inlay'd with Patterns 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 Cherubims;
Such Harmony is in immortal Souls;
But whilst this muddy Vesture of Decay
Doth grosly close us in it, we cannot hear it.
Come hoe, 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 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 Musick 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 Musick. Therefore the Poet
Did fain 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.

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 it self, as doth an inland Brook
Into the Main of Waters. Musick, hark! [Musick.

Ner.
It is the Musick, Madam, of your 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, how the Moon sleeps with Endimion,
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 Cuckow, by the bad Voice.

Lor.
Dear Lady, welcome Home.

Por.
We have been praying for our Husband's 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 signifie their coming.

Por.
Go in, Nerissa,
Give Order to my Servants, that they take
No note at all of our being absent hence,
Nor you Lorenzo, Jessica nor you. A Tucket sounds.

Lor.
Your Husband is at hand, I hear a Trumpet;
We are no Tell-tales, Madam, fear you not.

Por.
This Night methinks is but the Day-light sick;
It looks a little paler; 'tis a Day,
Such as the Day is when the Sun is hid. Enter Bassanio, Anthonio, 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 from 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 Anthonio,
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 Courtesie.

Gra.
By yonder Moon I swear you do me wrong;
In Faith I gave it to the Judge's Clerk: [To Nerissa.
Would he were gelt that had it for my part,
Since you do take it, Love, so much at Heart.

Por.
A Quarrel, hoe, already; what's the Matter?

Gra.
About a Hoop of Gold, a paltry Ring
That she did give me, whose Poesie was
For all the World like Cutler's Poetry
Upon a Knife; Love me, and leave me not.

Ner.
What talk you of the Poesie or the Value?
You swore to me when I did give it you,
That you would wear it 'till the Hour of Death,
And that it should lye with you in your Grave;
Tho' not for me, yet for your vehement Oaths,
You should have been respective, and have kept it.
Gave it a Judge's Clerk! but well I know
The Clerk will ne'er wear Hair on's Face that had it.

Gra.
He will, and if he live to be a Man.

Ner.
If! 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 thy self, the Judge's Clerk,
A prating Boy that begg'd it as a Fee:
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 Wife's first Gift,
A thing stuck on with Oaths upon your Finger,
And so riveted 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 to 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;
And '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.

Gra.
My Lord Bassanio gave his Ring away
Unto the Judge that begg'd it, and indeed
Deserv'd it too; and then the Boy, his Clerk,
That took some Pains in Writing, be begg'd mine,
And neither Man nor Master would take ought
But the two Rings.

Por.
What Ring gave you my, my Lord?
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd 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.

Por.
And even so void is your false Heart of Truth.
By Heaven, I will ne'er come in your Bed
Until I see the Ring.

Ner.
Nor I in yours, 'till I again see mine.

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,
When nought 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,
You would not then have parted with the Ring.
What Man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleas'd to have defended it
With any Terms of Zeal, wanted the Modesty
To urge the thing held as a Ceremony?
Nerissa teaches me what to believe;
I'll die for't, but some Woman had the Ring.

Bass.
No, by mine Honour, Madam, by my Soul,
No Woman had it, but a civil Doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand Ducats of me,
And begg'd the Ring; the which I did deny him,
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away;
Even he that had held up the very Life
Of my dear Friend. What should I say, sweet Lady?
I was inforc'd to send it after him;
I was beset with Shame and Courtesie;
My Honour would not let Ingratitude
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good Lady,
And by these blessed Candles of the Night,
Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd
The Ring of me, to give the worthy Doctor.

Por.
Let not that Doctor e'er come near my House,
Since he hath got the Jewel that I lov'd,
And that which you did swear to keep for me:
I will become as liberal as you,
I'll not deny him any thing I have,
No, not my Body, nor my Husband's Bed;
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it.
Lye not a Night from Home; watch me like Argos:
If you do not, if I be left alone,
Now by mine Honour, which is yet mine own,
I'll have the Doctor for my Bedfellow.

Ner.
And I his Clerk; therefore be well advis'd
How you do leave me to mine own Protection.

Gra.
Well, do you so; let me not take him then;
For if I do, I'll mar the young Clerk's Pen.

Ant.
I am th' 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,
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair Eyes,
Wherein I see my self—

Por.
Mark you but that!
In both mine Eyes he doubly sees himself,
In each Eye one; swear by your double self,
And there's 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 thy Wealth, [To Bass.
Which but for him that had your Husband's Ring [To Por.
Had quite miscarry'd. 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,
And bid him keep it better than the other.

Ant.
Here Lord Bassanio, swear to keep this Ring.

Bass.
By Heav'n 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.

Ner.
And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano,
For that same scrubbed Boy, the Doctor's Clerk,
In lieu of this, last Night did lye with me.

Gra.
Why, this is like the mending of High-ways
In Summer, where the Ways are fair enough:
What, are we Cuckolds e'er we have deserv'd it?

Por.
Speak not so grosly; you are all amaz'd;
Here is a Letter, read it at your Leisure;
It comes from Padua from Bellario:
There you shall find that Portia was the Doctor,
Nerissa there her Clerk. Lorenzo here,
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you,
And but even now return'd: I have not yet
Entred my House. Anthonio, you are welcome,
And I have better News in store for you
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.

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.

Bass.
Sweet Doctor, you shall be my Bedfellow;
When I am absent, then lye 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 Rhodes.

Por.
How now, Lorenzo?
My Clerk hath some good Comforts too for you.

Ner.
Ay, and I'll give them him without a Fee.
There do I give to you and Jessica,
From the rich Jew, a special Deed of Gift,
After his Death, of all he dies possess'd 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 satisfy'd
Of these Events at full. Let us go in,
And charge us there on Interrogatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.

Gra.
Let it be so: the first Interrogatory
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is,
Whether '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,
'Till I were couching with the Doctor's Clerk.
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's Ring. [Exeunt.

As you Like it. A COMEDY.