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  • Title: The Merchant of Venice (Quarto 1, 1600)
  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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 (Quarto 1, 1600)

    The comciall Historie of
    Clowne. I will goe before sir.
    Mistres looke out at window for all this,
    there will come a Christian by
    840will be worth a Iewes eye.
    Shyl. What sayes that foole of Hagars ofspring? ha.
    Iessica. His words were farewell mistris, nothing els.
    Shy. The patch is kinde enough, but a huge feeder,
    Snaile slow in profit, and he sleepes by day
    845more then the wild-cat: drones hiue not with me,
    therefore I part with him, and part with him
    to one that I would haue him helpe to wast
    his borrowed purse. Well Iessica goe in,
    perhaps I will returne immediatlie,
    850do as I bid you, shut dores after you, fast bind, fast find.
    a prouerbe neuer stale in thriftie minde. Exit.
    Ies. Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost,
    I haue a Father, you a daughter lost. Exit.

    Enter the maskers Gratiano and Salerino.
    855Grat. This is the penthouse vnder which Lorenzo
    desired vs to make stand.
    Sal. His howre is almost past.
    Gra. And it is meruaile he out-dwells his howre,
    for louers euer runne before the clocke.
    860Sal. O tenne times faster Venus pidgions flie
    to seale loues bonds new made, then they are wont
    to keepe obliged faith vnforfaited.
    Gra. That euer holds: who riseth from a feast
    with that keene appetite that he sits downe?
    865where is the horse that doth vntread againe
    his tedious measures with the vnbated fire
    that he did pace them first: all things that are
    are with more spirit chased then enioyd.
    How like a younger or a prodigall
    870the skarfed barke puts from her natiue bay
    hugd and embraced by the strumpet wind,
    how like the prodigall doth she returne