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 moved 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 seasoned are
To their right praise, and true perfection!-
Peace, hoa! The moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awaked!

Lor.

[Music ceases.

That is the voice,

Or, I am much deceived, 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, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.

Are they returned?

Lor.

But there is come a messenger before,

Madam, they are not yet;

Go in, Nerissa;

To signify their coming.

Por.

Give order to my servants, that they take

No note at all of our being absent hence ;

Nor you, Lorenzo; --Jessica, nor you. [A tucket sounds. 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 a 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 husbånd, 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.

[GRATIANO and NERISSA seem to talk apart. Gra. 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 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, 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! But well I know,

The clerk wil ne'er wear hair on his 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,

No higher than thyself; the judge's clerk;
A prating boy that begged 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 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. 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 begged it, and, indeed,
Deserved it too; and then the boy, his clerk,
That took some pains in writing, he begged mine;
And neither man, nor master, would take aught
But the two rings.

Por.

[Aside.

What ring gave you, my lord?
Not that, I hope, which you received 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. Nor I in yours,

Till I again see mine.
Bass.

Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I
the ring,
gave
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 honor to contain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleased 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 honor, madam, by my soul,
No woman had it, but a civil doctor,

Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me,
And begged the ring; the which I did deny him,
And suffered him to go displeased away;

Even he that had held up the very life.

Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady? I was enforced to send it after him;

I was beset with shame and courtesy;

My honor 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 begged 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 loved,

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.

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

Now, by mine honor, which is yet my own,

I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advised. 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 the unhappy subject of these quarrels. Por. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwith standing.

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.

Nay, but hear me.

Bass
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, [To PORTIA

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 deserved it?
Por. Speak not so grossly.-You are all amazed.
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 but even now returned. I have not yet
Entered 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 harbor suddenly;

You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.

Ant.

I am dumb.

Bass. 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.

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; For here I read for certain, that my ships

Are safely come to road.

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 do I give to you, and Jessica,