Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. Enter PORTIA and NERISSA. 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. Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows By the bad voice. Lor. Dear lady, welcome home. [the cuckow, [healths, Por. We have been praying for our husbands' Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. Are they returned? Lor. Madam, they are not, yet ; But there is come a messenger before, To signify their coming. Por. Go, Nerissa, Give order to my servants, that they take [A Trumpet sounds, Lor. Your husband is at hand, I hear his trumWe are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not. [pet; Enter BASSANIO, ANTHONIO, GRATIANO, and their followers. Por. You are welcome home, my lord. Bass. I thank you, madam, give welcome to This is the man, this is Anthonio, [my friend, To whom I am so infinitely bound. Por. You should, in all sense, be much bound to For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. [him: Anth. 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. Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do me [To Nerissa. In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. Would he were hang'd that had it, for my part, Since you do take it, love, so much at heart. wrong: Por. A quarrel, ho, already! What's the matter? Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring, That she did give me, whose poesy was For all the world like cutler's poetry, Upon a knife; love me and leave me not, Ner. What talk you of the poesy, or the value? You swore to me, when I did give it you, That you would wear it till your hour of death, Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk; I could not for my heart deny it him. [you. Por. You were to blame, I must be plain with To part so slightly with your wife's first gift: A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger, And rivetted 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. [Aside. 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. Por. What ring gave you, my lord? Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. I would deny it; but you see my finger 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 your's, Till I again see mine. If Bass. Sweet Portia, If you did know to whom I gave the ring, When nought would be accepted but the ring, Or your own honour to retain the ring, You would not then have parted with the ring, If you had pleased to have defended it, I'll die for't but some woman had the ring. Bass. No, by mine honour, madam, by my soul, No woman had it, but a civil doctor; Ev'n he that did uphold the very life Of my dear friend. [begg'd Had you been there, I think you would have The ring of me, to give the worthy doctor. [house; Por. Let not that doctor e'er come near my I'll not deny him any thing I have. Know him I shall, I am well sure of it. Lie not a night from home; watch me, like Argus, Now by mine honour, which is yet my own, 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 me not take him then; For if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. Anth. I am th' unhappy subject of these quarrels. |