How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
NERISSA When the moon shone, we did not see the candle.
PORTIA So doth the greater glory dim the less:
A substitute shines brightly as a king
Unto the king be by, and then his state
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook
Into the main of waters. Music! hark!
NERISSA It is your music, madam, of the house.
PORTIA Nothing is good, I see, without respect:
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day.
NERISSA Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam.
PORTIA 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, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion
And would not be awaked.
[Music ceases]
LORENZO That is the voice,
Or I am much deceived, of Portia.
PORTIA He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo,
By the bad voice.
LORENZO Dear lady, welcome home.
PORTIA We have been praying for our husbands' healths,
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Are they return'd?
LORENZO Madam, they are not yet;
But there is come a messenger before,
To signify their coming.
PORTIA 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.
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