Godward Under the Blossom that Hangs on the Bough painting

Godward Under the Blossom that Hangs on the Bough painting
Waterhouse My Sweet Rose painting
He is not, nor we have not heard from him.But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica,And ceremoniously let us prepareSome welcome for the mistress of the house.
[Enter LAUNCELOT]
LAUNCELOT
Sola, sola! wo ha, ho! sola, sola!
LORENZO
Who calls?
LAUNCELOT
Sola! did you see Master Lorenzo?Master Lorenzo, sola, sola!
LORENZO
Leave hollaing, man: here.
LAUNCELOT
Sola! where? where?
LORENZO
Here.
LAUNCELOT
Tell him there's a post come from my master, withhis horn full of good news: my master will be hereere morning.
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.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!Here will we sit and let the sounds of musicCreep in our ears: soft stillness and the nightBecome the touches of sweet harmony.Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heavenIs thick inlaid with patines of bright gold:There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'stBut 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 decayDoth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
[Enter Musicians]
Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn!