Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church,
And see the holy edifice of stone,
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks,
Which, touching but my gentle vessel’s side,
Would scatter all the spices on the stream;
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks;
And, in a word, but even now worth this,
And now worth nothing?”
So Shylock, though ready to advance the three thousand ducats to Bassanio on Antonio’s bond, doubts whether the ships bound to Tripolis, the Indies, Mexico, and England, may not come to grief. For “ships are but boards, sailors but men; there be land-rats and water-rats, land-thieves and water-thieves—I mean pirates; and then, there is the peril of waters, winds, and rocks.” Soon after it was spread on the Rialto that Antonio had “a ship of rich lading wrecked on the narrow seas; the Goodwins, I think,” says his friend, “they call the place; a very dangerous flat, and fatal, where the carcases of many a tall ship lie buried;” and this was followed by the news that not one of his vessels had escaped