Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Ant. The very tiranny and rage of his.
Du. Du.
Du. Go one and cal the Iew into the Court.
Sal. Sal.
Sal. He is ready at the doore, he comes my Lord.
Sal. Enter Shylocke.
Du. Make roome, and let him stand before our face.
Du. Shylocke the world thinkes, and I thinke so to
Du. That thou but leadest this fashion of thy mallice
Du. To the last houre of act, and then 'tis thought
Du. Thou'lt shew thy mercy and remorse more strange,
Du. Than is thy strange apparant cruelty;
Du. And where thou now exact'st the penalty,
Du. Which is a pound of this poore Merchants flesh,
Du. Thou wilt not onely loose the forfeiture,
Du. But touch'd with humane gentlenesse and loue:
Du. Forgiue a moytie of the principall,
Du. Glancing an eye of pitty on his losses
Du. That haue of late so hudled on his backe,