I pray you, know me, when we meet again;

I wish you well, and so I take my leave.

further;

Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute,
Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you,
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.

Per. You press me far, and therefore I will yield.
Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake;
And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you:
Do not draw back your hand; I'll take no more;
And you in love shall not deny me this.

Bass. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle ; I will not shame myself to give you this.

Per. I will have nothing else but only this; And now, methinks, I have a mind to it.

Bass. There's more depends on this than on the value.

The dearest ring in Venice will I give you,
And find it out by proclamation;

Only for this, I pray you pardon me.

Per. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: You taught me first to beg; and now, methinks, You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife;

And, when she put it on, she made me vow,

That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. Per. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts.

An if your wife be not a mad woman,

And know how well I have deserv'd this ring,
She would not hold out enemy for ever,
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!
[Exeunt PORTIA and NERISSA.
Ant. My lord Bassanio, let him have the ring;
Let his deservings, and my love withal,
Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment.

[Exit GRATIANO.

Come, you and I will thither presently; And in the morning early will we both Fly toward Belmont: Come, Antonio.

SCENE II. -The same.

[Exeunt.

A Street.

And ceremoniously let us prepare
Some welcome for the mistress of the house.
Enter LAUNCELOT.

Laun. Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola, sola!
Lor. Who calls?

Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo, and mistress Lorenzo? sola, sola!

Lor. Leave hollaing, man; here
Laun. Sola! where? where?
Lor. Here.

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

And yet no matter; Why should we go in?
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you,
Within the house, your mistress is at hand:
And bring your musick forth into the air.

[Exit STEPHANO.

How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank!
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of musick
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night,
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica: Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold;
There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st,
But in his motion like an angel sings,
Still quiring to the young-ey'd 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.

Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn;
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home with musick.

Jes. I am never merry, when I hear sweet musick.

[Musick.

Lor. 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 musick touch their ears, You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,

By the sweet power of musick: Therefore, the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and

floods;

Empties itself, as doth an inland brook Into the main of waters. Musick! hark!

Ner. It is your musick, 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 season'd are To their right praise, and true perfection!Peace, hoa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, And would not be awak'd! [Musick ceases. Lor.

That is the voice,

But there is come a messenger before, To signify their coming.

Por.

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. 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 the 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 husband, 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 t

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 apar 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.

Nr. 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, Yea should have been respective, and have kept it. Gave it a judge's clerk! - but well I know, The clerk will 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 begg'd it as a fee; I could not for my heart deny it him.

Par. 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.

[Aside.

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 begg'd it, and, indeed, Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine: And neither man, nor master, would take aught But the two rings.

Par. What ring gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd 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.

Per. Even so void is your false heart of truth. By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed L'atil I see the ring.

Ner.

Till I again see mine.

Bass

Nor I in yours,

Sweet Portia,

If you did know to whom I gave the ring,
If you did know for whom I gave the ring,
And would conceive for what I gave the ring,
And how unwillingly I left the ring,
When naught would be accepted but the ring,
You would abate the strength of your displeasure.
Per. If you had known the virtue of the ring,
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring,
Or your own honour to contain the ring,
You would not then have parted with the ring.
What man is there so much unreasonable,
If you had pleas'd 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.

My honour 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 begg'd
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 lov'd,
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 honour, which is yet my own,
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow.

Ner. And I his clerk; therefore be well advis'd, 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 notwithstanding.

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.

Gra. Why, this is like the mending of high-ways
In summer, where the ways are fair enough:
What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd it?
Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all amaz'd:
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 return'd; I have not yet
Enter'd my house. · Antonio, you are welcome;

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 suffer'd him to go displeas'd away;
Even he that had held up the very life

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

I was beset with shame and courtesy:

Than you expect: unseal this letter soon;
There you shall find, three of your argosies
Are richly come to harbour suddenly :
You shall not know by what strange accident
I chanced on this letter.

Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people.

Por.

It is almost morning,

And yet, I am sure, you are not satisfied
Of these events at full: Let us go in ;
And charge us there upon intergatories,
And we will answer all things faithfully.

Gra. Let it be so; The first intergatory,
That my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is,
Whether till the next night she had rather stay;
Or go to bed now, being two hours to-day:
But were the day come, I should wish it dark,
That I were couching with the doctor's clerk.
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing
So sore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. [Exeunt.