[The Merchant of Venice continued.

In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft,
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight

The self-same way, with more advised watch,
To find the other forth; and by adventuring both,
I oft found both.
Act i. Sc. I.

They are as sick, that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. Acti. Sc. 2. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man.

I dote on his very absence.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ships are but boards, sailors but men ; there be land-rats and water-rats, land-thieves and water-thieves. Acti. Sc. 3.

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? Ibid. I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.

O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! Ibid.

Many a time and oft,

In the Rialto, you have rated me.

Ibid.

For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.

Ibid.

And spet upon my Jewish gaberdine.

Ibid.

The Merchant of Venice continued.]

In a bondman's key,

With 'bated breath, and whisp'ring humbleness.

Act i. Sc. 3.

When did friendship take

A breed of barren metal of his friend?

Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun.

Ibid.

Act ii. Sc. I.

According to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the sisters three, and such branches of learning. Act ii. Sc. 2.

It is a wise father that knows his own child.

Ibid.

And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife, Act ii. Sc. 5.

All things that are,

Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd.
How like a younker, or a prodigal,

The scarfed bark puts from her native bay,
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind!
How like the prodigal doth she return,
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails,
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind!

Act ii. Sc. 6.

But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselves commit.

Ibid.

Act iii. Sc. 1.

If my gossip, Report, be an honest woman of her word. If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.

Ibid.

[The Merchant of Venice continued.

I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Act iii. Sc. 1.

The villany you teach me, I will execute; and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.

Makes a swan-like end,

Fading in music.

Ibid.

Act iii. Sc. 2.

Tell me, where is fancy bred,

Or in the heart, or in the head?

How begot, how nourished?

Reply, reply.

In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,

Ibid.

But, being season'd with a gracious voice,

Obscures the show of evil?

Ibid.

Thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall

The quality of mercy is not strain'd;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes :

1 Incidis in Scyllam cupiens vitare Charybdim. Philippe Gualtier (about the 13th century), Alexandreis, Book v. Line 301.

The Merchant of Venice continued.]

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown: His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway;

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute to God himself,

And earthly power doth then show likest God's,
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, -
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy.

Act iv. Sc. 1.

A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!

Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip.

Ibid.

I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.

you

You take
my
That doth sustain my house ; you
When

Ibid.

life

house when do take the prop take my you do take the means whereby I live.

Ibid.

He is well paid that is well satisfied.

Ibid.

1 It is not nominated in the bond. White.

[The Merchant of Venice continued.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!
Here we will 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.

Act v. Sc. I.

I am never merry when I hear sweet music.

Ibid.

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.

Ibid.

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

How many things by season season'd are
To their right praise, and true perfection!

Ibid.

Ibid.

This night, methinks, is but the daylight sick.

Ibid.

These blessed candles of the night.

Ibid.