
The Merchant of Venice
In Venice a merchant borrows from Shylock, a Jewish moneylender he has spat on, pledging a pound of his flesh. Shylock asks whether a Jew does not bleed, and the comedy never recovers.

In Venice a merchant borrows from Shylock, a Jewish moneylender he has spat on, pledging a pound of his flesh. Shylock asks whether a Jew does not bleed, and the comedy never recovers.
How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree.
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit.
I do know of these That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing.
Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?
There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
They are as sick that surfeit with too much as they that starve with nothing.