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I'll fee if I can get my husband's ring,
Which I did make him fwear to keep for ever.
Por. Thou may'ft, I warrant: We fhall have old
That they did give the rings away to men;
But we'll out-face them, and out-fwear them too.
Away, make hatte; thou know'ft where I will tarry.
Ner. Come, good fir, will you fhew me to this house?
Belmont. A Grove, or Green Place,
before Portia's Houfe.
Enter Lorenzo, and Feffica.
Lor. The moon shines 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 toward the Grecian tents, Where Creffid lay that night.
Jef. In fuch a night,
Did Thisbe fearfully o'er-trip the dew;
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
old fearing,]-a torrent of oaths.
"Then here will be old utis."
HENRY IV, Part 2, Act II, S. 4. 1 Draw.
To come again to Carthage.
Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs
Lor. In fuch a night,
Did Jeffica fteal from the wealthy Jew;
Jef. And in fuch a night,
Did young Lorenzo fwear he lov'd her well;
Lor. And in fuch a night,
Did pretty Jeffica, like a little fhrew,
Jef. I would out-night you, did no body come;
Enter a Servant.
Lor. Who comes fo faft in filence of the night?
Lor. A friend? what friend? your name, I pray you,
Serv. Stephano is my name; and I bring word,
My mistress will before the break of day
Be here at Belmont: fhe doth ftray about
By holy croffes, where the kneels and prays
Lor. Who comes with her?
Serv. None, but a holy hermit, and her maid.
master yet my
Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. But go we in, I we in, I pray thee, Jeffica,
And ceremoniously let us prepare
Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
Enter Launcelot fmacking a whip.
Laun. Sola, fola, wo ha, ho, fola, fola!
Lor. Who calls?
Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo, and mistress Lorenza? fola, fola!
Lor. Leave hollowing, man; here.
Laun. Sola! where? where?
Laun. Tell him, there's a poft come from my master, with his horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning.
[Exit. Lor. Sweet foul, let's in, and there expect their coming.
yet no matter;-Why fhould we go in?
My friend Stephano, fignify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand;
And bring your mufick forth into the air.- [Exit fervant.
'Here will we fit, and let the founds of mufick
Is thick inlay'd with 'pattens of bright gold;
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubims.
Doth grofly close it in, we cannot hear it.-
f pattens-fmall round plates.
claje it in,]-deadens the found, ftifles, fuppreffes it.
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
Jef. I am never merry, when I hear fweet 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,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud,
If they perchance but hear a trumpet sound,
By the sweet power of mufick: Therefore, the poet
Let no fuch man be trufted.-Mark the mufick.
Enter Portia, and Neriffa, at a distance.
Por. That light we fee, is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So fhines a good deed in a naughty world.
Ner. When the moon fhone, we did not fee the candle.
Into the main of waters, Mufick! hark!
Por. Nothing is good, I fee, without respect;
How many things by feafon feafon'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection !—
And would not be awak'd!
Lor. 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' welfare, 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 in, Neriffa,
Give order to my fervants, that they take
No note at all of our being abfent hence ;
Nor you, Lorenzo; Jeffica, nor you. [A tucket founds. Lor. Your hufband is at hand, I hear his trumpet:
We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not.
Por. This night, methinks, is but the day-light fick, It looks a little paler; 'tis a day,
Such as the day is when the fun is hid.
1 without refpect ;]-not abfolutely, but relatively, or as it is circum ftanced.