But now, how stands the wind? See, how stands the vanes? The ships are safe, thou say’st, and richly fraught? Why, how now, countrymen? Why flock you thus to me in multitudes? Fond men, what dream you of their multitudes? What at our hands demand ye? How, my lord, my money? Is theft the ground of your religion? What or how can I multiply? What? Bring you scripture to confirm your wrongs? Why stand you thus unmoved by my laments? Why weep you not to think upon my wrongs? Why pine not I and die in this distress? You partial heavens, have I deserved this plague? What sight is this? I pray, mistress, will you answer me one question? Well, sirrah, what is it?
(The Jew of Malta)