THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. William Shakespeare

for me one drop of blood.

       ANTONIO.

       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?

       NERISSA.

       From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace.

       [Presents a letter.]

       BASSANIO.

       Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?

       SHYLOCK.

       To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.

       GRATIANO.

       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?

       SHYLOCK.

       No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.

       GRATIANO.

       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 lay’st in thy unhallow’d dam,

       Infus’d itself in thee; for thy desires

       Are wolfish, bloody, starv’d and ravenous.

       SHYLOCK.

       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?

       NERISSA.

       He attendeth here hard by,

       To know your answer, whether you’ll admit him.

       DUKE OF VENICE.

       With all my heart: some three or four of you

       Go give him courteous conduct to this place.

       Meantime, the court shall hear Bellario’s letter.

       CLERK. ‘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 furnished with my opinion which, bettered 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.’

       DUKE.

       YOU hear the learn’d Bellario, what he writes;

       And here, I take it, is the doctor come.

       [Enter PORTIA, dressed like a doctor of laws.]

       Give me your hand; come you from old Bellario?

       PORTIA.

       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?

       PORTIA.

       I am informed throughly of the cause.

       Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?

       DUKE OF VENICE.

       Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.

       PORTIA.

       Is your name Shylock?

       SHYLOCK.

       Shylock is my name.

       PORTIA.

       Of a strange nature is the suit you follow;

       Yet in such rule that the Venetian law

       Cannot impugn you as you do proceed.

       [To ANTONIO.] You stand within his danger, do you not?

       ANTONIO.

       Ay, so he says.

       PORTIA.

       Do you confess the bond?

       ANTONIO.

       I do.

       PORTIA.

       Then must the Jew be merciful.

       SHYLOCK.

       On what compulsion must I? Tell me that.

       PORTIA.

       The quality of mercy is not strain’d;

       It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

       Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest:

       It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

       ‘Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes

       The throned monarch better than his crown;

       His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,

       The attribute to awe and majesty,

       Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;

       But mercy is above this sceptred sway,

       It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

       It is an attribute to God himself;

       And earthly power doth then show likest God’s

       When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,

       Though justice be thy plea, consider this,

       That in the course of justice none of us

       Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy,

       And that same prayer doth teach us all to render

       The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much

       To mitigate the justice of thy plea,

       Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice

       Must needs give sentence ‘gainst the merchant there.

       SHYLOCK.

       My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,

       The penalty and forfeit of my bond.

       PORTIA.

       Is he not able to discharge the money?

       BASSANIO.

       Yes; here I tender it for him in the court;

       Yea, twice the sum; if that will not suffice,

       I will be bound to pay it ten times o’er

       On forfeit of my hands,