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 wall ^note,
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid ^note lay that night.

Jes.
In such a night,
Did Thisbe fearfully o'er-trip 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
Upon the wild-sea banks, and waft her love
To come again to Carthage.

Jes.
In such a night,
Medea gather'd the enchanted 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.
And ^note 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 ^note in such a night,
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrow ^note,
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 a Servant.

Lor.
Who comes so fast in silence of the night?

Ser.
A friend.

Lor.
A friend? what friend? your name, I pray you, friend?

Ser.
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 ^note hours.

Lor.
Who comes with her?

Ser.
None, but a holy hermit, and her maid.
I pray you, is my ^note 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 ^note prepare
Some welcome for the mistress of the house. Enter Clown.

Clo.

Sola, sola, wo ha ho, sola, sola!

Lor.

Who calls?

Clo.

Sola! Did you see master Lorenzo, and ^note mistress Lorenza? sola, ^note sola!

Lor.

Leave hollowing, man; here.

Clo.

Sola! where, where?

Lor.

Here.

Clo.

Tell him, there's a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning.

Lor.
Sweet love, ^note let's in, ^note14Q0289 and there expect their coming.
And yet no matter; Why should we go in?—
My good friend Stephano, ^note signify, I ^note pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your musick forth into the air.— [Exit Ser.
How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of musick
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night,
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica: Look, how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlay'd with pattens ^note 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 cherubins:
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grosly close it in, ^note we cannot hear it.— Enter Musick, and Domesticks of Portia.
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; ^note
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with musick. [Musick plays.

Jes.
I am never merry, when I hear sweet musick.

Lor.
The reason is, your spirits are attentive:
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandl'd colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud,

Which is the hot condition of their blood;
If they but hear perchance ^note 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 feign that Orpheus drew trees, ^note stones, and floods;
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But musick for the ^note 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; ^note
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 itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Musick! hark.

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. ^note
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection.—
Peace! how the moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd. [observing Lor and Jes.

Lor.
That is the voice, [rising. Musick ceases.
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.

Por.
We have been praying for our husbands' welfare, ^note
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
No note at all of our being absent hence;—
Nor you, Lorenzo,—Jessica, nor you. [Trumpet.

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 day-light 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.

Bas.
We should hold day with the Antipodes,14Q0290
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; ^note
But, God sort all! You are welcome home, my lord.

Bas.
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.

Gra. [to Ner.]
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 ^note was,
For all the world, like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not.

Ner.
What talk you of the posy ^note, or the value?
You swore to me, when I did give it ^note you,
That you would wear it till your hour ^note of death;
And that it should lye with you in your grave:
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths,
You should have been respective, and have kept it.
Gave it a judge's clerk&dotup; ^note but well I know,
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his ^note face, that had it.

Gra.
He will, an if he live to be a man.

Ner.
Ay, if ^note 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 judge's clerk;
A prating boy, that beg'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 riveted so ^note 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.

&clquo;Bas.
&clquo;Why, I were best to cut my left hand off,&crquo;
&clquo;And swear, I lost the ring defending it.&crquo;

Gra.
My lord Bassanio gave his ring away
Unto the judge that beg'd it, and, indeed,
Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk,
That took some pains in writing, he beg'd mine;
And neither man, nor master, would take ought
But the two rings.

Por.
What ring gave you, my lord?
Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me.

Bas.
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.
Even ^note 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, [to Gratiano.
'Till I again see mine.

Bas.
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.

Bas.
No, by my honour ^note, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,
And beg'd the ring; the which I did deny him,
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away ^note;
Even he that had held up the ^note very life
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady?
I was enforc'd to send it after him;
I was beset with shame and courtesy;
My honour would not let ingratitude
So much besmear it: Pardon me, good lady;
For, by ^note these blessed candles of the night,
Had you been there, I think, you would have beg'd
The ring of me to give the worthy ^note 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 Argus; ^note
If you do not, if I be left alone,
Now by mine honour, which is yet mine own,
I'll have that doctor ^note for my bedfellow. ^note

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 the unhappy subject of these quarrels.

Por.
Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwithstanding.

Bas.
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 myself,—

Por.
Mark you but that:
In both my eyes ^note he doubly sees himself;
In each eye, one:—swear by your double self,
And there's an oath of credit.

Bas.
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 ^note;
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, ^note
Had quite miscarry'd; I dare be bound again,
My soùl upon the forfeit, that your lord

Will never more break faith advisedly.

Por.
Then you shall be his surety: Give him &dagger2; this;
And bid him keep it better than the other.

Ant.
Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep this ring.

Bas.
By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor.

Por.
I had it of him: pardon me ^note, 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 &dagger2;, 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, ere we have deserv'd it?

Por.
Speak not so grosly.—You are all amaz'd:—
Here is a &dagger2; letter, [to Bas.] 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 ^note return'd; I have not yet
Enter'd my house.—Antonio, you are welcome;
And I have better news in store for you,
Than you expect: unseal this &dagger2; 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.

Bas.
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.

Bas.
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 road. ^note

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 &dagger2; 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 ^note;
And charge us there upon inter'gatories, ^note
And we will answer all things faithfully.

Gra.
Let it be so; The first inter'gatory ^note,
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,
That I ^note 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.