My lord Bassanio, upon more advice1,

Hath sent you here this ring; and doth entreat Your company at dinner.

Por.

That cannot be:

This ring I do accept most thankfully,

And so, I pray you, tell him: Furthermore,
I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house.
Gra. That will I do.

Ner. wabne Sir, I would speak with you:→ I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, it

Remy [To PORTIA. Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. Por. Thou may'st, I warrant: We shall have olda swearing,

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.

Jakt brumme ACT V. nisy bouler ett SCENE I. Belmont. Avenue to Portia's House.

Enter LORENZO and JESSICA.

Lor. The moon shines bright:-In such a night as this1,

When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, And they did make no noise: in such a night,

1 i. e. more reflection. So in All's Well that Ends Well: "You never did lack advice so much.'

2 Of this once common augmentative in colloquial language there are various instances in the plays of Shakspeare in the sense of abundant, frequent. So in The Merry Wives of Windsor: 'Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English Again in King Henry IV. Part 11.: here will be

old utis.

The several passages beginning with these words are imitated in the old comedy of Wily Beguiled, written before 1596. See the play in Hawkins's Origin of the Drama, vol ili.

Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls2,
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents,
Where Cressid lay that night.

Jes.

In such a night,
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew;
And saw the lion's

And ran dismay'daadow ere himself,

Lor.

In such a night,

Stood Dido, with a willow in her hand3
Upon the wild sea-banks, and wav'd her love
To come again to Carthage. hate ways

Jes.
tended In such a night,
Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs.
That did renew old Eson4.

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. 59161 In such a night,balek
Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well;
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,
And ne'er a true one, be

Lor.
In such a night, polled
Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew,
Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 201
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. friend.

2 This image is from Chaucer's Troilus and Cresseide, v. 666, and 1142.

3 Steevens observes that this is one instance, among many that might be brought to prove that Shakspeare was no reader of the classics. Perhaps he recollected Chaucer's description of Ariadne in a similar situation in the Legend of Good Women; or he may have taken this circumstance, as Warton suggests, from some ballad on the subject

4 Steevens refers to Gower's description of Medea in his Confessio Amantis.

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 mafd. 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, sóla!

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.

ན།

Laun. Tell him, there's a post come from my master, with his horn full of good news; my master news will be here ere morning. Jeg blue [Exit. Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming.

And yet no matter;-Why should we go in?
My friend Stepháno, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress

And bring your music forth into

hand; air. [Exit STEPHANO,

How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank!

5 So in the Merry Devil of Edmonton:

'But there are crosses, wife: here's one in Waltham,
Another at the abbey, and the third

At Ceston: and 'tis ominous to pass
Any of these without a Pater-noster.

And this is a reason assigned for the delay of a wedding.

Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
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 inlaid with patines 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 grossly close us in, we cannot hear it.8—

7

Enter Musicians.

Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with music.

[Music. Jes. I am never merry, when I hear sweet music. Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive:

6 So in Churchyard's Worthines of Wales, 1587:

'A musicke sweete that through our eares shall creepe

By secret arte, and full a man asleep.'

Again, in The Tempest:

"This music crept by men upon the waters.'

A small flat dish or plate, used in the administration of the Eucharist; it was commonly of gold, or silver-gilt.

8 The folio editions, and the quarto printed by Roberts, read: 'Such harmony is in immortal souls;

But whilst this muddy vesture of decay

Doth grossly close in it, we cannot hear it.'

Johnson thought the third line corrupt, and proposed to read, it in; which proves to be the reading of the quarto printed by Heyes, though he did not know it, this reading has been adopted in all the modern editions. But as he observes the sentence is still imperfect, and no attempt at explanation yet offered is to me satisfactory. From the discrepancy in the early copies we cannol doubt that there is an error somewhere. No very material change is necessary to make the passage perfectly intelligible, the simple substitution of the word us for it, which I have ventared upon in the text, is I am persuaded the true reading. Milton's imitation of the passage, in his Arcades, supports my conjecture: 'Such sweet compulsion doth in n music lye, To lull the daughters of necessity, And keep unsteady nature in her law, And the low world in measured motion draw After the heavenly tune which none can bear Of human mould, with gross unpurged ear.

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 music 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 music: Therefore, the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods;
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature:
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils10;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:

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.

9 We find the same thought in the Tempest:
Then I beat my tabor,

At which, like unback'd colts, they pricked their ears,
Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses

As they smelt music.'

10 Steevens, in one of his splenetic moods, censures this passage as neither pregnant with physical and moral truth, nor poetically beautiful; and, with the assistance of Lord Chesterfield's tirade against music, levels a blow at the lovers and professors of it.

Mr. Douce has defended music from this disingenuous attack, with all the eloquence of a lover, in a passage which should never be separated from the beautiful though somewhat extravagant encomium in the text. It is a science which, from its intimate and natural connexion with poetry and painting, deserves the highest attention and respect. He that is happily qualified to appreciate the better parts of music, will never seek them in the society so emphatically reprobated by the noble lord, nor altogether in the way that he recommends. He will not lend an ear to the vulgarity and tumultuous roar of the tavern catch, or the delusive sounds of martial clangour; but he will enjoy this. heavenly gift, this exquisite and soul-delighting sensation in the temples of his God, or in the peaceful circles of domestic happiness: he will pursue the blessing and advantages of it with ardour, and turn aside from its abuses."