In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.

Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.

I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hacked.

Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?

I wish you all the joy that you can wish.

I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?

Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.