Laun. Sola! where? where ? Lor. Here. Laun. Tell him, there's a poft come from my master, with his horn full of good news. My mafter will be here ere morning. Lor. Sweet love, coming. And yet no matter My friend Stephano, let's in, and there expect their why should we go in ? Within the house, your mistress is at hand;. [Exit Stephano. And bring your mufick forth into the air. How fweet the moon-light fleeps upon this bank! Here will we fit, and let the founds of mufick Creep in our ears; foft ftillnefs, and the night Become the touches of fweet harmony. Sit, Jeffica: 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 fings, Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubims; Such harmony is in immortal founds! (19). But whilft this muddy vefture of decay Doth grofly clofe us in, we cannot hear it. Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, And draw her home with mufick. (19) Such Harmony is in immortal Souls; ] But the Harmony here described is That of the Spheres, fo much celebrated by the Antients. He fays, the smallest Orb fings like an Angel; and then fubjoins, Such Harmony is in immortal Souls : But the Harmony of Angels is not here meant, but of the Orbs. Nor are we to think, that here the Poet alludes to the Notion, that each Orb has its Intelligence or Angel to direct it; for then with no Propriety could he fay, the Orb Sung like an Angel: he should rather have faid, the Angel in the Orb fung. We must therefore corre& the Line thus; Such Harmony is in immortal Sounds: i. in the Musick of the Spheres, MI, Warburten. Jes Jef. I'm never merry, when I hear sweet mufick. Lor. The reason is, your fpirits are attentive; You fhall perceive them make a mutual ftand; By the fweet power of mufick. Therefore, the Poet Let no fuch man be trufted. Mark the mufick. Enter Portia and Neriffa. Por. That light we fee, is burning in my hall: How far that little candle throws his beams! So fhines a good deed in a naughty world. Ner. When the moon fhone, we did not fee the candle. [Mufick. Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less; When When every goofe is cackling, would be thought How many things by feafon feafon'd are Lor. That is the voice, Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. [Mufick ceafes. 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 husbands' healths, Which fpeed, we hope, the better for our words. Are they return'd ? Lor. Madam, they are not yet; But there is come a meffenger before, Por. Go, Neriffa, Give order to my fervants, that they take No note at all of our being absent hence; Nor you, Lorenzo; Jefica, nor you. [A Tucket founds. 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 fick It looks a little paler; 'tis a day, Such as the day is when the fun is hid. Enter Baffanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their followers. Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light; But God fort all! you're welcome home, my lord. This is the man, this is Anthonio, To whom I am fo infinitely bound. Por. You fhould in all fense be much bound to him; For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. Anth Anth. No more than I am well acquitted of. Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our houfe ; It must appear in other ways than words; Therefore I fcant this breathing courtefie. Gra. By yonder moon, I fwear, you do me wrong; In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. [To Neriffa. Would he were gelt that had it, for my part, Since you do take it, love, fo 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, whofe poefie was For all the world like cutler's poetry Upon a knife; Love me, and leave me not. Ner. What talk you of the poefie, or the value? You fwore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it 'till your 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 refpective, 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, an' if he live to be a man. Ner. Ay, 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 fcrubbed boy, No higher than thy felf, the Judge's clerk; I could not for my heart deny it him. Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, To part fo flightly with your wife's first gift; A thing ftuck on with oaths upon your finger, And riveted with faith unto your flesh. I gave my love a ring, and made him fwear Never to part with it; and here he stands, I dare be fworn for him, he would not leave it, Baff. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, And [Afide. And fwear, I loft the ring defending it. Por. What ring gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. I would deny it; but you fee my finger Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. Ner. Nor I in yours, 'Till I again fee mine. Baff. Sweet Portia, If you did know to whom I gave the ring, When nought would be accepted but the ring, I'll die for't, but fome woman had the ring. Baff. No, by mine honour, Madam, by my foul,. No woman had it, but a Civil Doctor, Who did refuse three thoufand ducats of me, And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him, Ev'n he, that did uphold the very life Of |