_"In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the wild sea banks, and waved her love To come again to Carthage."_
_"In such a night Medea gathered the enchanted herbs That did renew old Aeson."_
_"In such a night Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew; And with an unthrifty love did run from Venice, As far as Belmont."_
_"In such a night Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well; Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, And ne'er a true one."_
_"And in such a night Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew Slander her love, and he forgave it her."_
_"I would outnight you, did nobody come; But hark, I hear the footing of a man."_
Lorenzo declines to enter the house for rest or sleep, but still discourses of love and music:
_"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 beholdest But in his motion like an angel sings. Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins; Such harmony is in immortal souls; But, whil'st this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot have it! By the sweet power of music; therefore, the poet Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods. Since naught so stockish, hard and full of rage But music for the time doth change his nature, The man that hath no music in himself Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night And his affections dark as Erebus; Let no such man be trusted."_
Portia, Bassanio and friends arrive from the trial of Antonio at Venice, and at the brilliant home of Belmont all is peace and love.
Bassanio discovers that the young lawyer in disguise was Portia, and she twits him for giving away his ring to the young advocate, as a recompense for clearing Antonio from the toils of Shylock; and then she discourses to her friends about music by night:
_"Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day; The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attuned; 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, seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection! Peace, there, the moon sleeps with Endymion And would not be awaked."_ (Music ceases and all retire.)