When neither is attended, and I think
The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 104
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! 108
Peace, ho! the moon sleeps with Endymion,
And would not be awak'd! Music ceases.
Lor.That is the voice,
Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia.
Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows the cuckoo, 112
By the bad voice.
Lor.Dear lady, welcome home.
Por. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare,
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words.
Are they return'd?
Lor.Madam, they are not yet; 116
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; 120
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, 125
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.
103 attended: given attention
107 by . . . season'd: by proper time matured
109 Endymion: Selene, the Moon, saw him asleep and loved him
121 S. d. tucket: toccata, a flourish on trumpets
