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