Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is?  Merchant of Venice1 Oswald, returning, whispered into the ear of his master, “It is a Jew, who calls himself Isaac of York; is it fit I should marshal him into the hall?” “Let Gurth do thine office, Oswald,” said Wamba with his usual effrontery: “the swineherd will be a fit usher to the Jew.” “St. Mary,” said the Abbot, crossing himself, “an unbelieving Jew, and admitted into this presence!” “A dog Jew,” echoed the Templar, “to approach a defender of the Holy Sepulchre?” “By my faith,” said Wamba, “it would seem the Templars love the Jews’ inheritance better than they do their company.” “Peace, my worthy guests,” said Cedric; “my hospitality must not be bounded by your dislikes.
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