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Laun. Sola! where? where ?
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,
let's in, and there expect their
And bring your mufick forth into the air.
(19) Such Harmony is in immortal Souls; ] But the Harmo ny 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 said, the Angel in the Orb fung. We must therefore corre& the Line thus; Such Harmony is in immortal Sounds: i. in the Mufick of the Spheres,
Jef. I'm never merry, when I hear sweet mufick. [Mufick.
Lor. The reason is, your fpirits 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 perchance but hear a trumpet found, Or any air of mufick touch their ears, You fhall perceive them make a mutual stand; Their favage eyes turn'd to a modeft gaze, By the fweet power of mufick. Therefore, the Poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, ftones, and floods; Since nought fo ftockish, hard and full of rage, But mufick for the time doth change his nature. The man that hath no mufick in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of fweet founds, Is fit for treafons, ftratagems, and spoils; The motions of his fpirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus: Let no fuch man be trufted.
Mark the mufick.
Enter Portia and Neriffa.
Por. That light we fee, is burning in my hall:
Ner. When the moon fhone, we did not fee the candle.
Por. So doth the greater glory dim the less;
Ner. It is the mufick, Madam, of your house.
Ner. Silence beftows the virtue on it, Madam.
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
Lór. 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 husbands' healths, Which fpeed, we hope, the better for our words. Are they return'd?
Lor. Madam, they are not yet;
Por. Go, Neriffa,
Give order to my fervants, that they take
Por. This night, methinks, is but the day-light fick;
Enter Baffanio, Anthonio, Gratiano, and their followers.
Baff. We fhould hold day with the Antipodes, If you would walk in abfence of the fun.
Por. Let me give light, but let me not be light;
But God fort all! you're welcome home, my lord.
To whom I am fo infinitely bound.
Por. You fhould in all fenfe be much bound to him; For, as I hear, he was much bound for you.
Anth. No more than I am well acquitted of.
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 fhe 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; 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 fo flightly with your wife's firft 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, Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth That the world mafters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief; An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it.
Baff. Why, I were beft to cut my left hand off,
And fwear, I loft the ring defending it.
Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away
Por. What ring gave you, my lord?
Por. Even fo void is your false heart of truth.
Ner. Nor I in yours, 'Till I again fee mine. Baff. Sweet Portia,
If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
Baff. No, by mine honour, Madam, by my foul,.
And begg'd the ring; the which I did deny him,
Ev'n he, that did uphold the very life