Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming.

And yet no matter;-why should we go in?
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your music forth into the air.-
[Exit STEPHANO.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here we will 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 patens 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 grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.

Enter Musicians.

Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn:

Jes. I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
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 music touch their ears,

You shall perceive them make a mutual staud,
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 spoils :
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.

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. Music! hark!

Ner. It is your music, 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.
How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection!-

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.

Enter BASSANIO, ANTONIO, 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 for 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 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 NERISSA.] 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 poesy was
For all the world, like cutlers' poetry
Upon a knife, "Love me, and leave me not."
Ner. What talk you of the poesy, or the value?
You swore to me, when I did give it you,
That you would wear it till your hour of death,
And that it should lie 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! no, God's my judge,
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 scrubbed boy,

I will become as liberal as you:

No higher than thyself, 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 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.

Bass. [Aside.] 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, he begg'd mine; And neither man, nor master, would take aught But the two rings.

Por.

What ring, gave you, 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. 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.

Till I again see mine. Bass.

Nor I in yours,

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 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 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'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:

Lie not a night from home; watch me like Argus;
If you do not, if I be left alone,

Now, by mine honour, which is yet mine own,
I'll have that 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 not me 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 myself,-

Por.

Mark you but that!

In both my 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 his wealth, Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, Had quite miscarried: 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 heaven! 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 lie with me.

Gra. Why, this is like the mending of highways In summer, where the ways are fair enough. What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it?

Por. Speak not so grossly.-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 even but now 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 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.
Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew you

not?

I am dumb.

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, lie with my wife.

Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, and living,

:

Of these events at full. Let us go in;
And charge us there upon inter'gatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.
Gra. Let it be so the first inter'gatory,
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.

"-SALARINO and SALANIO"-There is much confusion in the early editions which it is not now easy to rectify, between the names of these characters and the speeches assigned to them, as designated by Sal., Salan., Sol., Salar.; and the names themselves are variously spelled. The text here differs from that of some of the modern editions in following the arrangement of the quartos, which receives some confirmation by its giving a larger and more lively share of the dialogue to Salarino, who had professed his wish to make Antonio merry. This discrimination of character, even in subordinate parts, slight as it is, is in Shakespeare's manner, and is lost by the more equal alternation of the dialogue given by Stevens, and retained by Collier.

'There, where your ARGOSIES"-"Argosies" were large merchant vessels: the word is said by Stevens to be corrupted from Ragosies, or, ships of Ragusa, distinguished in their day for their size and value; but Douce derives it from the classical ship Argo, which is more probable, from argis being the word for ship in the Latin of the lower empire.

"And see my wealthy Andrew DOCK'D in sand"— "Andrew" is the ship's name, and was probably a common one for Italian vessels, in honour of the great admiral, Andrew Doria. For "dock'd in sand" all the old editions print "docks in sand;" and Collier proposes to read, "my wealthy Andrew's decks in sand."

"VAILING her high top"-To vail means to bow, to lower, to cast down, as in HAMLET, "vailed lids."

- Now, by two-headed Janus, Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time." "By 'two-headed Janus' is meant those antique bifrontine heads, which generally represent a young and smiling face, together with an old and wrinkled one; being of Pan and Bacchus, of Saturn and Apollo, etc. These are not uncommon in collections of antiques, and in the books of the antiquaries, as Montfaucon, Spanheim, etc."-WARBURTON.

"WHEN I am very sure"-" So all the old copies. This reading is in Shakespeare's manner, who often left the nominative case of the verb to be understood.

Rowe altered 'when' to who, which has been followed by the modern editors."-COLLIER.

If they should speak, would almost damn those ears, Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools." That is, (says Theobald,) Some people are thought wise while they keep silence, who, when they open their mouths, are such stupid praters that the hearers cannot help calling them fools, and so incur the judgment denounced in the gospel against him who says to his brother, Thou fool."

"For this FOOL-GUDGEON"-An expressive compound, which Malone (followed in many editions) altered to fool's-gudgeon, against all the early copies.

"--for this GEAR"-i. e. " Matter, subject, or business in general; often applied to dress, Saxon."-NARES'S "Glossary."

Modern use has narrowed down the word to meaning harness or other firings (to use an Americanism) of man, or beast, or machinery; but, in older English, it was used to express any matter in hand, as Launcelot in this play says, "Fortune is a good wench for this gear," i. e. for this affair, or this occasion.

"Is that any thing now?"-All the early editions have, "It is that any thing now," which words Collier retains, with an altered punctuation, thus, "It is that:any thing now;" and explains thus: "Antonio's observation, It is that, is addressed to Gratiano, concurring in his remark just before he made his exit; and then Antonio's bad spirits return upon him, and he adds, as if weary of Gratiano's talk, any thing now.' naturally leads to Bassanio's criticism upon Gratiano." But on looking at the original quarto, it will be seen that there are marks of a misprint, thus, "An. It is that any thing now," for, as elsewhere, "Ant. Is that any thing now?" and this last reading suits the context.

This

"And I am PREST"-i. e. Ready: it is used in this sense by Chaucer, Spenser, Fox, and others: from the French pret, anciently spelled preste.

SCENE II.

"-he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian""A satire," says Warburton, "on the ignorance of the