1. SCENE I. Belmont. The avenue to PORTIA's house.
None but a holy hermit and her maid.
I pray you, is my master yet return'd?
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.
LAUNCELOT. Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!
Sola! Did you see Master Lorenzo? Master Lorenzo! Sola, sola!
Leave holloaing, man. Here!
Sola! Where? where?
Tell him there's a post come from my master with his
horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning.
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 music forth into the air.
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: 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-eyed cherubins;
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn;
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear.
And draw her home with music.
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.