This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood;
The words expressly are “a pound of flesh:”
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh;
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate
Unto the state of Venice.
Thyself shalt see the act:
For, as thou urgest justice, be assured
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest.
I take this offer, then; pay the bond thrice
And let the Christian go.
Soft!
The Jew shall have all justice; soft! no haste:
He shall have nothing but the penalty.
Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh.
Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more
But just a pound of flesh: if thou cut’st more
Or less than a just pound, be it but so much
As makes it light or heavy in the substance,
Or the division of the twentieth part
Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn
But in the estimation of a hair,
Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate.
A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew!
Now, infidel, I have you on the hip.
He hath refused it in the open court:
He shall have merely justice and his bond.
A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel!
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.
Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture,
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
Why, then the devil give him good of it!
I’ll stay no longer question.
Tarry, Jew:
The law hath yet another hold on you.
It is enacted in the laws of Venice,
If it be proved against an alien
That by direct or indirect attempts
He seek the life of any citizen,
The party ’gainst the which he doth contrive
Shall seize one half his goods; the other half
Comes to the privy coffer of the state;
And the offender’s life lies in the mercy
Of the duke only, ’gainst all other voice.
In which predicament, I say, thou stand’st;
For it appears, by manifest proceeding,
That indirectly and directly too
Thou hast contrived against the very life
Of the defendant; and thou hast incurr’d
The danger formerly by me rehearsed.
Down therefore and beg mercy of the duke.
Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself:
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state,
Thou hast not left the value of a cord;
Therefore thou must be hang’d at the state’s charge.
That thou shalt see the difference of our spirits,
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it:
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio’s;
The other half comes to the general state,
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine.
Nay, take my life and all; pardon not that:
You take my house when you do take the prop
That doth sustain my house; you take my life
When you do take the means whereby I live.
So please my lord the duke and all the court
To quit the fine for one half of his goods,
I am content; so he will let me have
The other half in use, to render it,
Upon his death, unto the gentleman
That lately stole his daughter:
Two things provided more, that, for this favour,
He presently become a Christian;
The other, that he do record a gift,
Here in the court, of all he dies possess’d,
Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter.
He shall do this, or else I do recant
The pardon that I late pronounced here.
I pray you, give me leave to go from hence;
I am not well: send the deed after me,
And I will sign it.
In christening shalt thou have two god-fathers:
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more,
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. Exit Shylock.
I humbly do desire your grace of pardon:
I must away this night toward Padua,
And it is meet I presently set forth.
I am sorry that your leisure serves you not.
Antonio, gratify this gentleman,
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. Exeunt Duke and his train.
Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof,
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew,
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.
And stand indebted, over and above,
In love and service to you evermore.
He is well paid that is well satisfied;
And I, delivering you, am satisfied
And therein do account myself well paid:
My mind was never yet more mercenary.
I pray you, know me when we meet again:
I wish you well, and so I take my leave.
Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further:
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute,
Not as a fee: grant me two things, I pray you,
Not to deny me, and to pardon me.
You press me far, and therefore I will yield.
To Antonio. Give me your gloves, I’ll wear them for your sake;
To Bassanio. And, for your love, I’ll take this ring from you:
Do not draw back your hand; I’ll take no more;
And you in love shall not deny me this.
This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle!
I will not shame myself to give you this.
I will have nothing else but only this;
And now methinks I have a mind to it.
There’s more depends on this than on