the Merchant of Venice.
800796As thou ha
st done with mee:
what
Iessica,
801797and
sleepe, and
snore, and rend apparraile out.
804800Shy. Who bids thee call? I doe not bid thee call.
805801Clow. Your
wor
ship was wont to tell me,
806802I could doe nothing without bidding.
808804Iessica. Call you?
what is your will?
809805Shy. I am bid forth to
supper
Iessica,
810806There are my keyes: but wherefore
should I goe?
811807I am not bid for loue, they
flatter me,
812808But yet Ile goe in hate, to feede vpon
813809The prodigall Chri
stian.
Iessica my girle,
814810looke to my hou
se,
I am right loth to goe,
815811There is
some ill a bruing towards my re
st,
816812For I did dreame of money baggs to night.
817813Clowne. I be
seech you
sir goe, my young Mai
ster
818814 doth expe
ct your reproch.
820816Clowne. And they haue con
spired together,
I will not
say
821817you
shall
see a Ma
ske, but if you doe, then it was not for nothing
822818that my no
se fell a bleeding on black monday la
st, at
sixe a clocke
823819ith morning, falling out that yeere on a
shwen
sday was foure yeere
825821Shy. What are there ma
skes? heare you me
Iessica,
826822lock vp my doores, and when you heare the drumme
827823and the vile
squealing of the wry-neckt Fi
ffe
828824clamber not you vp to the ca
sements then
829825Nor thru
st your head into the publique
streete
830826To gaze on Chri
stian fooles with varni
sht faces:
831827But
stop my hou
ses eares,
I meane my ca
sements,
832828let not the
sound of
shallow fopprie enter
833829my
sober hou
se. By
Iacobs sta
ffe I
sweare
834830I haue no minde of fea
sting forth to night:
835831but
I will goe: goe you before me
sirra,
D. Clowne