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Page 53 - spet upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own. Well then, it now appears you need my help : Go to, then; you come to me, and you say, ' Shylock, we would have moneys :' you say so ; You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,
Page 51 - your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following ; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you.—What news on the Rialto ?—Who is he comes here? Enter
Page 76 - O, these deliberate fools ! when they do choose, They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. Nerissa. The ancient saying is no heresy,— Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. Portia. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. Servant. Madam, there is alighted at your gate A young Venetian, one that comes before To signify
Page 66 - year in th' afternoon. Shylock. What! are there masques ?—Hear you me, Jessica: Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum ' And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, Clamber you not up to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces ; But stop
Page 120 - heart of truth. By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed Until I see the ring. Nerissa. Nor I in yours, Till I again see mine. Bassanio. Sweet Portia, If you did know to whom I gave the ring, If you did know for whom I gave the ring, And would conceive for what I gave the
Page 102 - Shylock. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud. Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall To endless ruin.—I stand here for law. Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend A young and learned doctor to our court.— Where is he
Page 71 - of an angel Stamped in gold ; but that's insculp'd upon : But here an angel in a golden bed Lies all within.—Deliver me the key: Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may! Portia. There, take it, prince ; and if my form lie there, Then I am yours. [He unlocks
Page 67 - I will go before, sir.—Mistress, look out at window, for all this: There will come a Christian by, Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit. Shylock. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha ? Jessica. His words were ' Farewell, mistress ;' nothing else. Shylock. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder;
Page 163 - As Philomel in summer's front doth sing And stops her pipe in growth of riper days : Not that the summer is less pleasant now Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, But that wild music burthens every bough, And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.