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About this text

  • Title: The Merchant of Venice (Folio 1, 1623)
  • Editor: Janelle Jenstad

  • Copyright Janelle Jenstad. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Janelle Jenstad
    Not Peer Reviewed

    The Merchant of Venice (Folio 1, 1623)

    Enter Iew, and his man that was the Clowne.
    Iew. Well, thou shall see, thy eyes shall be thy iudge,
    The difference of old Shylocke and Bassanio;
    What Iessica, thou shalt not gurmandize
    As thou hast done with me: what Iessica?
    840And sleepe, and snore, and rend apparrell out.
    Why Iessica I say.
    Clo. Why Iessica.
    Shy. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.
    Clo. Your worship was wont to tell me
    845I could doe nothing without bidding.
    Enter Iessica.
    Ies. Call you? what is your will?
    Shy. I am bid forth to supper Iessica,
    There are my Keyes: but wherefore should I go?
    850I am not bid for loue, they flatttr me,
    But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon
    The prodigall Christian. Iessica my girle,
    Looke to my house, I am right loath to goe,
    There is some ill a bruing towards my rest,
    855For I did dreame of money bags to night.
    Clo. I beseech you sir goe, my yong Master
    Doth expect your reproach.
    Shy. So doe I his.
    Clo. And they haue conspired together, I will not say
    860you shall see a Maske, but if you doe, then it was not for
    nothing that my nose fell a bleeding on blacke monday
    last, at six a clocke ith morning, falling out that yeere on
    ashwensday was foure yeere in th' afternoone.
    Shy. What are their maskes? heare you me Iessica,
    865Lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drum
    And the vile squealing of the wry-neckt Fife,
    Clamber not you vp to the casements then,
    Nor thrust your head into the publique streete
    To gaze on Christian fooles with varnisht faces:
    870But stop my houses eares, I meane my casements,
    Let not the sound of shallow fopperie enter
    My sober house. By Iacobs staffe I sweare,
    I haue no minde of feasting forth to night:
    But I will goe: goe you before me sirra,
    875Say I will come.
    Clo. I will goe before sir.
    Mistris looke out at window for all this;
    There will come a Christian by,
    Will be worth a Iewes eye.
    880Shy. What saies that foole of Hagars off-spring?
    Ies. His words were farewell mistris, nothing else.
    Shy. The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder:
    Snaile-slow in profit, but he sleepes by day
    885More then the wilde-cat: drones hiue not with me,
    Therefore I part with him, and part with him
    To one that I would haue him helpe to waste
    His borrowed purse. Well Iessica goe in,
    Perhaps I will returne immediately;
    890Doe as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast binde, fast
    A prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde.
    Ies. Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost,
    I haue a Father, you a daughter lost.