LORENZO

Who comes so fast in silence of the night?

STEFANO A friend.

LORENZO

A friend—what friend? Your name, I pray you, friend?

STEFANO

Stefano 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.

LORENZO Who comes with her?

STEFANO

None but a holy hermit and her maid.

I pray you, is my master yet returned?

LORENZO

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 Lancelot, the clown

LANCELOT (calling) Sola, sola! Wo, ha, ho! Sola, sola!

LORENZO Who calls?

LANCELOT (calling) Sola!—Did you see Master Lorenzo?

(Calling) Master Lorenzo! Sola, sola!

LORENZO Leave hollering, man: here.

LANCELOT (calling) Sola!—Where, where?

LORENZO Here.

LANCELOT Tell him there’s a post come from my master with his horn full of good news. My master will be here ere morning. Exit

LORENZO (to Jessica)

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

And yet no matter. Why should we go in?

My friend Stefano, signify, I pray you,

Within the house your mistress is at hand,

And bring your music forth into the air. Exit Stefano

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!

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.

⌈They⌉ sit

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 choiring to the young-eyed 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⌉

(To the Musicians) Come, ho, and wake Diana with a

hymn.

With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear,

And draw her home with music.

The Musicians play

JESSICA

I am never merry when I hear sweet music.

LORENZO

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 stand,

Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze

By the sweet power of music. Therefore the poet

Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods,

Since naught 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, as themselves

PORTIA

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.

NERISSA

When the moon shone we did not see the candle.

PORTIA

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.

NERISSA

It is your music, madam, of the house.

PORTIA

Nothing is good, I see, without respect.

Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.

NERISSA

Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.

PORTIA

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!

⌈She sees Lorenzo and Jessica⌉

Peace, ho!

⌈Music ceases⌉

The moon sleeps with Endymion,

And would not be awaked.

LORENZO ⌈rising⌉ That is the voice,

Or I am much deceived, of Portia.

PORTIA

He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo—

By the bad voice.

LORENZO Dear lady, welcome home.

PORTIA

We have been praying for our husbands’ welfare,

Which speed we hope the better for our words.

Are they returned?

LORENZO Madam, they are not yet,

But there is come a messenger before

To signify their coming.

PORTIA Go in, Nerissa.

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⌉

LORENZO

Your husband is at hand. I hear his trumpet.

We are no tell-tales, madam. Fear you not.

PORTIA

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, Graziano, and their followers. Graziano and Nerissa speak silently to one another

BASSANIO

We should hold day with the Antipodes

If you would walk in absence of the sun.

PORTIA

Let me give light, but let me not be light;