ACT V. SCENE I.

Belmont. A Grove, or green Place, before
Portia's House.

T'

Enter Lorenzo and Jeffica.

LORENZO.

HE moon fhines bright-In fuch a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kifs the trees,
And they did make no noife; in fuch a night,
Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan wall
And figh'd his foul towards the Grecian tents,
Where Crefid lay that night.
Jef In fuch a night,

Did Thisbe fearfully o'er-trip the dew;
And faw the lion's fhadow ere himself,
And ran difmay'd away.

Lor. In fuch a night,

;

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand
Upon the wild fea-banks, and wav'd her love
To come again to Carthage.

Jef. In fuch a night,

Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs,

That did renew old Efon.

Lor. In fuch a night,

Did Jeffica fteal from the wealthy Jew,

And with an unthrift love did run from Venice,

As far as Belmont.

Jef. And in fuch a night,

Did young Lorenzo fwear, he lov'd her well;
Stealing her foul with many vows of faith,
And ne'er a true one.

Lor. And in fuch a night,

Did pretty Jeffica (like a little fhrew)

Slander her love, and he forgave it her.

Jef. I would out-night you, did no body come; But hark, I hear the footing of a man.

13

Enter

Enter Stephano.

Lor. Who comes fo faft, in filence of the night?
Mef. A friend.

Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, I
you, friend?

Mef. Stephano is my name, and I bring word,
My mistress will before the break of day
Be here at Belmont. She doth ftray about
By holy Croffes, where the kneels, and prays,
For happy wedlock hours.

Lor. Who comes with her?

Mef. None, but a holy hermit, (1) and her maid. -I pray you, is my mafter yet return'd?

Lor. He's not, nor have we yet heard from him. But go we in, I pray thee, Jeffica,

And ceremoniously let us prepare

Some welcome for the mistress of the house.

Enter Launcelot.

Laun. Sola, fola, wo ha, ho, fola, fola !

Lor. Who calls?

pray

Laun. Sola! did you fee Mafler Lorenzo and Mistress Lorenza? fola, fola !

Lor. Leave bollowing, man: here.

Laun. Sola! where? where?

Lor. Here.

Laun. Tell him, there's a poft come from my mafter with his horn full of good news. My mafter will be here ere morning.

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

And yet no matter why fhould we go in ?
My friend Stephano, fignify, I pray you,
Within the houfe, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your mufick forth into the air.

[Exit Stephano.

(1) None but a boly hermit,] I do not perceive the ofe of this hermit, of whom nothing is feen or heard afterwards. The Poet had firft planned his fable fonte other way, and inadvertently, when he changed his fcheme, retained fomething of the original defign.

How

How fweet the moon-light fleeps upon this bank!
Here will we fit, and let the founds of inufick
Creep in our ears; foft flillness, and the night
Become the touches of fweet harmony.
Sit, effica look, how the floor of heav'n
Is thick inlay'd with pattens of bright gold; (2)
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 fouls! (3)

But

(2) with PATTERNs of bigbt gold ;] We fhould read PATTENS: a round broad plate of gold born in heraldry.

WARBURTON. Pattens is the reading of the first folo, and patients of the quarto. Patterns is printed first in the fol. 1632.

(3) Such barmony is in immortal fouls!] But the harmony here defcribed is that of the fpheres, fo much celebrated by the antients, He fays, the maileft orb fings like an angel; and then fubjins, such barmony is in immortal fouls: 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 fung like an angel he should rather have faid, the angel in the orb fung. We must therefore correa the lines thus ;

Such harmony is in immortal founds :

e. in the mufick of the fpheres.

WARBURTON,

This pallage is oofcare. Immortal found; is a harth combination of words, yet Miton uits a parallel expreffi ›n.

Spiri us et rapidos qui circinat igneus orbes,
Nunc quoque fidereis intercinit ipfe choreis
Immortale melos, et inenarrabile carmen.

It is proper to exhibit the lines as they ftand in the copies, 1. II. III. IV. without any variation, for a change has been filently made, by Rowe, and adopted by all the fucceeding. editors.

Such barmony is in immortal fouls,

But while this muddy vefture of decay

Doth grofly clofe in it, we cannot bear it.

That the third is corrupt must be allowed, but it gives reason to fufpect that the original was,

Doth grofly clofe it in.

Yet I know not whether from this any thing better can be produced than the received reading. Perhaps harmony is the power of

I 4

perceiving

But whilft this muddy vefture of decay
Doth grofly clofe us in, we cannot hear it.
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn; (4)
With fweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with mufick.

Jef. I'm never merry, when I hear sweet mufick.

Lor. The reafon is, your fpirits are attentive;
For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,

;

[Mufick.

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 musick touch their ears,
You thall perceive them make a mutual ftand
Their favage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
By the fweet power of mufick. Therefore, the Poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, ftones, and floods;
Since nought fo ftockih, hard and full of rage,
But mufick for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no mufick in himself, (5)
Nor is not mov'd with concord of fweet founds,
Is fit for treafons, ftratagems, and fpoils;
The motions of his fpirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:

Let no fuch man be trufted-Mark the mufick.

perceiving barmony, as afterwards, Mafick in the foul is the quality of being moved with concord of sweet founds. This will fomewhat explain the old copies, but the fentence is ft li imperfect.

Diana is the Moon,

(4) wake Diana with a hymn ;) who is in the next fcene reprefented as fleeping. (5) The man that hath no musick in himself, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet fards,] The thought here is extremely fine: As if the being affected with mufick was only the harmony between the internol (mufick in himself and the external mufick [concord of facer foun:is ;] which were mutually affected like unifon ftrings. This whole fpeech could not chufe but pleafe an Englife audience, whofe great paffion, as well then as now, was lowe of mufick. Jam vero video naturam (fays Erafmus in praise of Folly) ut fingulis natioribus, ac pene civitatibus, communem quandım infeviffe Philautiam: Atque hinc fieri, ut BRITANNI præter alia, Formam, MUSICAM, & lautas Menfas propriè fibi vindicent.

WARBURTON.

Enter

Enter Portia and Neriffa at a diftance.

Por. That light we fee, is burning in my hall: -How far that little candle throws his beams!

So Thines a good deed in a naughty world.

Ner. When the moon fhone, we did not fee 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.-Mufick, hark! [Mufick.
Ner. It is your mufick, Madam, of the house.
Por. Nothing is good, I fee, without refpect: (6)
Methinks, it founds much sweeter than by day.

Ner. Silence beftows the virtue on it, Madam.
Por. The crow doth fing as fweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended; and, I think,
The nightingale, if the fhould fing by day,
When every goofe is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.
How many things by feason feafon'd are

To their right praife, and true perfection?
-Peace! how the moon fleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awaked!

Lor. That is the voice,

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.

[Mufick ceafess

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 husband's healths,, Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.

Are they return'd?

Lor. Madam, they are not yet;

But there is come a meffenger before,
To fignify their coming.

Por. Go, Neria,