Were in six parts, and every part a ducat,
I would not draw them, I would have my bond.
Duke.
How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend’ring none?
Shy.
What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong?
You have among you many a purchas’d slave,
Which like your asses, and your dogs and mules,
You use in abject and in slavish parts,
Because you bought them. Shall I say to you,
“Let them be free! Marry them to your heirs!
Why sweat they under burthens? Let their beds
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates
Be season’d with such viands”? You will answer,
“The slaves are ours.” So do I answer you:
The pound of flesh which I demand of him
Is dearly bought as mine, and I will have it.
If you deny me, fie upon your law!
There is no force in the decrees of Venice.
I stand for judgment. Answer—shall I have it?
Duke.
Upon my power I may dismiss this court,
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,
Whom I have sent for to determine this,
Come here to-day.
Sal.
My lord, here stays without
A messenger with letters from the doctor,
New come from Padua.
Duke.
Bring us the letters; call the messenger.
Bass.
Good cheer, Antonio! what, man, courage yet!
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all,
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.
Ant.
I am a tainted wether of the flock,
Meetest for death; the weakest kind of fruit
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me.
You cannot better be employ’d, Bassanio,
Than to live still and write mine epitaph.
Enter Nerissa [dressed like a lawyer’s clerk].
Duke.
Came you from Padua, from Bellario?
Ner.
From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace.
[Presenting a letter.]
Bass.
Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
Shy.
To cut the forfeiture from that bankrout there.
Gra.
Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,
Thou mak’st thy knife keen; but no metal can,
No, not the hangman’s axe, bear half the keenness
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
Shy.
No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
Gra.
O, be thou damn’d, inexecrable dog!
And for thy life let justice be accus’d.
Thou almost mak’st me waver in my faith
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That souls of animals infuse themselves
Into the trunks of men. Thy currish spirit
Govern’d a wolf, who hang’d for human slaughter,
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
And whilst thou layest in thy unhallowed dam,
Infus’d itself in thee; for thy desires
Are wolvish, bloody, starv’d, and ravenous.
Shy.
Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond,
Thou but offend’st thy lungs to speak so loud.
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall
To cureless ruin. I stand here for law.
Duke.
This letter from Bellario doth commend
A young and learned doctor to our court.
Where is he?
Ner.
He attendeth here hard by
To know your answer, whether you’ll admit him.
Duke.
With all my heart. Some three or four of you
Go give him courteous conduct to this place.
Mean time the court shall hear Bellario’s letter.
[Reads.]
“Your Grace shall understand that at the receipt of your letter I am very sick, but in the instant that your messenger came, in loving visitation was with me a young doctor of Rome. His name is Balthazar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy between the Jew and Antonio the merchant. We turn’d o’er many books together. He is furnish’d with my opinion, which better’d with his own learning, the greatness whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him, at my importunity, to fill up your Grace’s request in my stead. I beseech you let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a reverend estimation, for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, whose trial shall better publish his commendation.”
Enter Portia for Balthazar.
You hear the learn’d Bellario, what he writes,
And here I take it is the doctor come.
Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario?
Por.
I did, my lord.
Duke.
You are welcome, take your place.
Are you acquainted with the difference
That holds this present question in the court?
Por.
I am informed throughly of the cause.
Which is the merchant here? and which the Jew?
Duke.
Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.