112
LAUNCELOT. Tell him there ' s a post come from my master with his horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning.
[ Exit ]
LORENZO. 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.
[ Exit STEPHANO.]
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.
[ Enter Musicians.]
Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn; With sweetest touches pierce your mistress ' ear. And draw her home with music.
[ Music.]