📔 The Merchant of Venice

There's more depends on this than on the value. / The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, / And find it out by proclamation: / Only for this, I pray you, pardon me.

I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it.

Let's in, and there expect their coming.

There's not the smallest orbe which thou beholdst, / But in his motion like an Angell sings, / Still quiring to the young eide Cherubins; / Such harmony is in immortall soules, / But whilst this muddy vesture of decay / Doth grossely close in it, we cannot heare it.