There's not the _smallest orb_, which thou behold'st,
_But in his motion like an angel sings_,
Still _quiring_ to the young-ey'd cherubims;
Such harmony is in immortal souls;
But, _whilst this muddy vesture of decay
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it_.
This is finer than Pythagoras.
The next three passages are concerned with the 'fantasie' of Music.
Jaques gives an opinion in a general form--viz., that the musician's
'melancholy' is 'fantastical'; Mariana and the Duke speak of a certain
_doubleness_ that may be noticed in the action of music on the mind.
Jessica is 'never merry' when she hears sweet music: Lorenzo descants
on the evident effects of music on even hardened natures; while
Portia and Nerissa preach a neat little sermon on the text 'Nothing is
good without respect,' with musical illustrations of the powerful
influence of time and place--_e.g._, the silence of night, makes the
music sound sweeter than by day; the crow sings as well as the lark,
if the circumstances favour the crow, or if the lark is not present to
give immediate comparison; and even the nightingale's song is no
better than the wren's, 'by day, when every goose is cackling.'
_As You_ IV, i, 13.
_Jaques._ I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is
emulation; nor the _musician's_, which is _fantastical_,
etc.
_Measure for Measure_ IV, i, 12. Enter Duke, disguised as a friar
(after Song).
_Mariana._ I cry you mercy, sir; and well could wish
You had not found me here _so musical_:
Let me excuse me, and believe me so,
My _mirth it much displeased_, but _pleas'd my woe_.
_Duke._ 'Tis good: though _music oft hath such a charm,
To make bad good, and good provoke to harm_.
_Merchant_ V, i, 66. Enter musicians.
_Lor._ Come ho! and wake Diana with a _hymn_:
With sweetest _touches_ pierce your mistress' ear,
And draw her home _with music_.
[Music.
_Jessica._ I am _never merry when I hear sweet music_.
_Lor._ The reason is, _your spirits are attentive_.
For ... _colts_,
* * * * *
_If they but hear_ perchance _a trumpet_ sound,
Or any _air of music touch their ears_,
You shall perceive them make a _mutual stand_,
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze.
_By the sweet power of music_: therefore, the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods:
Since nought 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 mov'd 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._--Mark the music.