The Merchant of Venice, Act 4, Scene 1

What, is Antonio here?

Well, is Antonio here?

Ready, so please your Grace.

Here and ready, if it pleases your Grace.

I am sorry for thee, thou art come to answer A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch, Uncapable of pity, void and empty From any dram of mercy.

I'm sorry for you. You have come to face an opponent made of stone, a man with nothing human in him, incapable of pity, utterly empty of even a drop of mercy.

I have heard Your Grace hath ta’en great pains to qualify His rigorous course; but since he stands obdurate, And that no lawful means can carry me Out of his envy’s reach, I do oppose My patience to his fury, and am arm’d To suffer with a quietness of spirit The very tyranny and rage of his.

I have heard that your Grace has taken great trouble to soften his harsh course of action; but since he remains unmoved, and since no lawful means can get me out of the reach of his hatred, I set my patience against his fury, and I am prepared to endure with a quiet spirit the utter tyranny and rage of his.

Go one and call the Jew into the court.

Someone go and call the Jew into the court.

He is ready at the door. He comes, my lord.

He is waiting at the door. Here he comes, my lord.

Make room, and let him stand before our face. Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, That thou but leadest this fashion of thy malice To the last hour of act, and then, ’tis thought, Thou’lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange Than is thy strange apparent cruelty; And where thou now exacts the penalty, Which is a pound of this poor merchant’s flesh, Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, But, touch’d with human gentleness and love, Forgive a moiety of the principal, Glancing an eye of pity on his losses That have of late so huddled on his back, Enow to press a royal merchant down, And pluck commiseration of his state From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, From stubborn Turks and Tartars never train’d To offices of tender courtesy. We all expect a gentle answer, Jew.

Make room, and let him stand in front of me. Shylock, the world thinks, and so do I, that you are only keeping up this show of spite until the very last moment, and then, people believe, you will show a mercy and pity more surprising than your surprising apparent cruelty now seems; and although at present you are demanding the penalty, which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, you will not only give up the forfeit, but, moved by human kindness and love, you will forgive half the loan itself, casting a pitying eye on his losses, which have lately crowded so thickly on him — enough to crush a merchant prince, and to squeeze compassion for his condition out of bosoms of brass and rough hearts of flint, out of unyielding Turks and Tartars never taught any acts of gentle courtesy. We all expect a kind answer, Jew.

I have possess’d your Grace of what I purpose, And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn To have the due and forfeit of my bond. If you deny it, let the danger light Upon your charter and your city’s freedom! You’ll ask me why I rather choose to have A weight of carrion flesh than to receive Three thousand ducats. I’ll not answer that, But say it is my humour. Is it answer’d? What if my house be troubled with a rat, And I be pleas’d to give ten thousand ducats To have it ban’d? What, are you answer’d yet? Some men there are love not a gaping pig; Some that are mad if they behold a cat; And others, when the bagpipe sings i’ the nose, Cannot contain their urine; for affection Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer: As there is no firm reason to be render’d Why he cannot abide a gaping pig, Why he a harmless necessary cat, Why he a woollen bagpipe, but of force Must yield to such inevitable shame As to offend, himself being offended, So can I give no reason, nor I will not, More than a lodg’d hate and a certain loathing I bear Antonio, that I follow thus A losing suit against him. Are you answered?

I have already informed your Grace of what I intend, and I have sworn by our holy Sabbath to have what is due to me and forfeited under my bond. If you refuse it, let the harm fall on your city's charter and its liberties! You'll ask me why I would rather have a weight of dead flesh than take three thousand ducats. I won't answer that, except to say it's my mood. Is that an answer? What if a rat were troubling my house, and I chose to pay ten thousand ducats to have it poisoned? Well, are you answered yet? There are some men who can't stand a roasted pig with its mouth open; some who go wild if they see a cat; and others who, when the bagpipe whines through its nose, can't hold their water; because feeling, the ruler of our passions, sways it toward liking or loathing. Now, for your answer: just as there's no solid reason to be given why one man can't bear a pig with its mouth open, another a harmless, useful cat, another a bagpipe covered in wool, but must necessarily give way to such unavoidable humiliation as to offend others because he himself is offended, so I can give no reason, and I won't, beyond a settled hatred and a definite loathing I feel for Antonio, that makes me pursue this losing case against him. Are you answered?

This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, To excuse the current of thy cruelty.

That is no answer, you heartless man, to justify the flow of your cruelty.

I am not bound to please thee with my answer.

I'm not obliged to satisfy you with my answer.

Do all men kill the things they do not love?

Does every man kill the things he doesn't love?

Hates any man the thing he would not kill?

Does any man hate a thing he wouldn't want to kill?

Every offence is not a hate at first.

Not every offence amounts to hatred at first.

What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice?

What, would you let a snake sting you twice?

I pray you, think you question with the Jew. You may as well go stand upon the beach And bid the main flood bate his usual height; You may as well use question with the wolf, Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb; You may as well forbid the mountain pines To wag their high tops and to make no noise When they are fretten with the gusts of heaven; You may as well do anything most hard As seek to soften that—than which what’s harder?— His Jewish heart. Therefore, I do beseech you, Make no moe offers, use no farther means, But with all brief and plain conveniency. Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will.

Please remember that you are arguing with the Jew. You might as well go and stand on the beach and order the high tide to lower its usual level; you might as well demand of the wolf why he has made the ewe bleat for her lamb; you might as well forbid the mountain pines to sway their high tops and to make no sound when the winds of heaven lash them; you might as well attempt anything however impossible as try to soften that — and what is harder than it? — his Jewish heart. So I beg you, make no more offers, try no further methods, but with all speed and plain convenience let me have judgment, and the Jew his way.

For thy three thousand ducats here is six.

For your three thousand ducats, here are six.

If every ducat in six thousand ducats Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, I would not draw them, I would have my bond.

If every ducat in six thousand ducats were divided into six parts, and each part were a ducat, I wouldn't take them; I would have what my bond entitles me to.

How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend’ring none?

How can you hope for mercy when you give none?

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 burdens? 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; ’tis 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?

What judgment should I fear, when I'm doing no wrong? You people own many a bought slave, whom, like your donkeys and your dogs and mules, you put to degrading, slavish work, because you paid for them. Should I say to you, "Set them free, marry them to your heirs. Why do they sweat under heavy loads? Let their beds be made as soft as yours, and let their mouths taste such food as yours"? You would answer, "The slaves are our property." So I answer you: the pound of flesh I demand from him cost me dear; it's mine and I will have it. If you refuse me, then shame on your law! There's no force in the laws of Venice. I demand judgment. Answer me: shall I have it?

Upon my power I may dismiss this court, Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, Whom I have sent for to determine this, Come here today.

By my authority I may adjourn this court, unless Bellario, a learned legal scholar whom I have sent for to decide this case, arrives here today.

My lord, here stays without A messenger with letters from the doctor, New come from Padua.

My lord, there's a messenger waiting outside with letters from the scholar, just arrived from Padua.

Bring us the letters. Call the messenger.

Bring us the letters. Call the messenger in.

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.

Cheer up, Antonio! Come on, man, keep your courage! The Jew can have my flesh, blood, bones and everything before you shall lose one drop of blood for my sake.

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.

I am the diseased ram of the flock, the one most fit to die. The weakest kind of fruit falls to the ground first, and let me fall the same way. You can't be better occupied, Bassanio, than in going on living and writing my epitaph.

Came you from Padua, from Bellario?

Have you come from Padua, from Bellario?

From both, my lord. Bellario greets your Grace.

From both, my lord. Bellario sends his greetings to your Grace.

Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?

Why are you sharpening your knife so hard?

To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.

To cut the forfeit out of that bankrupt over there.

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?

It's not on your shoe-sole but on your soul, hard-hearted Jew, that you're putting an edge on your knife. But no metal, not even the executioner's axe, can be half as sharp as your sharp hatred. Can no prayers get through to you?

No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.

No, none that you have the brains to compose.

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 wolfish, bloody, starv’d and ravenous.

Oh, be damned, you dog beyond all cursing! And let justice itself be blamed for letting you live. You almost make my faith waver, so that I side with Pythagoras in believing that the souls of animals pass into human bodies. Your snarling dog's spirit once ruled a wolf that was hanged for killing a human being, and its savage soul flew straight from the gallows and, while you lay in your unholy mother's womb, poured itself into you; for your desires are wolfish, bloody, starving and greedy.

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.

Until you can shout the seal off my bond, you're only damaging your lungs by talking so loudly. Mend your wits, young man, or they'll collapse beyond repair. I stand here on the law.

This letter from Bellario doth commend A young and learned doctor to our court. Where is he?

This letter from Bellario recommends a young and learned legal scholar to our court. Where is he?

He attendeth here hard by, To know your answer, whether you’ll admit him.

He's waiting just outside, to hear your answer, whether you'll let him in.

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.

Gladly. Three or four of you go and escort him courteously to this place. In the meantime, 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 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.

[He reads.] Your Grace should know that when your letter reached me I was very ill, but at the moment your messenger arrived, a young scholar of Rome was with me on a friendly visit. His name is Balthazar. I told him about the dispute between the Jew and Antonio the merchant. We went through many books together. He has been given my opinion, which, improved by his own learning (and I cannot praise its greatness enough), comes with him, at my urging, to fill your Grace's request in my place. I beg you not to let his youth be any obstacle to his receiving respectful regard, for I never knew so young a body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, and putting him to the test will show his worth better than my praise can.

You hear the learn’d Bellario what he writes, And here, I take it, is the doctor come.

You hear what the learned Bellario writes, and here, I think, is the scholar arriving.

Give me your hand. Come you from old Bellario?

Give me your hand. Have you come from old Bellario?

I did, my lord.

I have, my lord.

You are welcome. Take your place. Are you acquainted with the difference That holds this present question in the court?

You are welcome. Take your seat. Are you familiar with the dispute that is now being argued in this court?

I am informed throughly of the cause. Which is the merchant here? And which the Jew?

I have been thoroughly informed about the case. Which one here is the merchant? And which is the Jew?

Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth.

Antonio and old Shylock, both of you step forward.

Is your name Shylock?

Is your name Shylock?

Shylock is my name.

Shylock is my name.

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?

The case you are pursuing is of a strange kind, yet so correct in form that Venetian law cannot challenge you as you proceed. [To Antonio.] You are in his power, aren't you?

Ay, so he says.

Yes, so he says.

Do you confess the bond?

Do you admit the bond?

I do.

I do.

Then must the Jew be merciful.

Then the Jew must be merciful.

On what compulsion must I? Tell me that.

What is forcing me to be? Tell me that.

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.

Mercy by its nature is not forced. It falls like the gentle rain from heaven onto the ground below. It blesses twice over: it blesses the one who gives it and the one who receives it. It is strongest in the strongest; it suits an enthroned monarch better than his crown. His sceptre shows the power of earthly rule, the sign of awe and majesty, in which the dread and fear of kings resides; but mercy is higher than this rule by sceptre, it is enthroned in the hearts of kings, it is a quality belonging to God himself; and earthly power looks most like God's when mercy tempers justice. So, Jew, though justice is what you plead for, consider this: if we were all given strict justice, none of us would be saved. We pray for mercy, and that same prayer teaches us all to perform acts of mercy. I have said all this to soften the strict justice of your plea. If you insist on it, this strict court of Venice must necessarily pass sentence against that merchant.

My deeds upon my head! I crave the law, The penalty and forfeit of my bond.

Let what I do fall on my own head! I demand the law, the penalty and forfeit of my bond.

Is he not able to discharge the money?

Isn't he able to pay the money back?

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, my head, my heart. If this will not suffice, it must appear That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, Wrest once the law to your authority. To do a great right, do a little wrong, And curb this cruel devil of his will.

Yes, I offer it for him here in the court — yes, twice the amount. If that isn't enough, I'll commit myself to paying it ten times over, forfeiting my hands, my head, my heart if I fail. If this isn't enough, then it must be clear that malice is crushing truth. And I beg you, bend the law just this once by your authority. To do a great right, do a little wrong, and check this cruel devil's will.

It must not be, there is no power in Venice Can alter a decree established; ’Twill be recorded for a precedent, And many an error by the same example Will rush into the state. It cannot be.

That must not happen. There is no power in Venice that can change an established law. It would be recorded as a precedent, and many a wrong would come flooding into the state on the strength of that example. It cannot be done.

A Daniel come to judgment! Yea, a Daniel! O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!

A Daniel come to judge us! Yes, a Daniel! Oh wise young judge, how I honour you!

I pray you let me look upon the bond.

Please let me look at the bond.

Here ’tis, most reverend doctor, here it is.

Here it is, most respected scholar, here it is.

Shylock, there’s thrice thy money offered thee.

Shylock, you are being offered three times your money.

An oath, an oath! I have an oath in heaven. Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? No, not for Venice.

An oath, an oath! I have sworn an oath in heaven. Shall I load my soul with perjury? No, not for all of Venice.

Why, this bond is forfeit, And lawfully by this the Jew may claim A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off Nearest the merchant’s heart. Be merciful, Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond.

Well then, this bond is forfeited, and by it the Jew may lawfully claim a pound of flesh, to be cut off by him closest to the merchant's heart. Be merciful: take three times your money; tell me to tear up the bond.

When it is paid according to the tenour. It doth appear you are a worthy judge; You know the law; your exposition Hath been most sound. I charge you by the law, Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear There is no power in the tongue of man To alter me. I stay here on my bond.

Not until it is paid according to its terms. It's clear you are a worthy judge; you know the law; your interpretation has been completely sound. I call on you, in the name of the law, of which you are a well-deserving pillar, to proceed to judgment. I swear by my soul that there is no power in any man's tongue to change me. I stand here on my bond.

Most heartily I do beseech the court To give the judgment.

With all my heart I beg the court to give the judgment.

Why then, thus it is: You must prepare your bosom for his knife.

Well then, this is how it is: you must bare your chest for his knife.

O noble judge! O excellent young man!

Oh, noble judge! Oh, excellent young man!

For the intent and purpose of the law Hath full relation to the penalty, Which here appeareth due upon the bond.

For the intent and purpose of the law relates entirely to the penalty, which here appears to be due under the bond.

’Tis very true. O wise and upright judge, How much more elder art thou than thy looks!

That's very true. Oh, wise and upright judge, how much older you are than you look!

Therefore lay bare your bosom.

So bare your chest.

Ay, his breast So says the bond, doth it not, noble judge? “Nearest his heart”: those are the very words.

Yes, his breast—that's what the bond says, doesn't it, noble judge? "Closest to his heart": those are the exact words.

It is so. Are there balance here to weigh The flesh?

That's right. Are there scales here to weigh the flesh?

I have them ready.

I have them ready.

Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death.

Have a surgeon standing by, Shylock, at your own expense, to close his wounds, in case he bleeds to death.

Is it so nominated in the bond?

Is that specified in the bond?

It is not so express’d, but what of that? ’Twere good you do so much for charity.

It isn't stated there, but what of it? It would be good of you to do that much out of charity.

I cannot find it; ’tis not in the bond.

I can't find it; it isn't in the bond.

You, merchant, have you anything to say?

You, merchant—do you have anything to say?

But little. I am arm’d and well prepar’d. Give me your hand, Bassanio. Fare you well, Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you, For herein Fortune shows herself more kind Than is her custom: it is still her use To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow An age of poverty, from which ling’ring penance Of such misery doth she cut me off. Commend me to your honourable wife, Tell her the process of Antonio’s end, Say how I lov’d you, speak me fair in death. And when the tale is told, bid her be judge Whether Bassanio had not once a love. Repent but you that you shall lose your friend And he repents not that he pays your debt. For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, I’ll pay it instantly with all my heart.

Only a little. I am steeled and fully prepared. Give me your hand, Bassanio. Goodbye. Don't grieve that I have come to this for your sake, for in this Fortune shows herself kinder than she usually is: it is always her habit to let the wretched man outlive his wealth, so he can look with sunken eyes and a wrinkled forehead on a lifetime of poverty—and from that slow torture of such misery she cuts me free. Give my regards to your honourable wife; tell her the story of Antonio's end; say how I loved you, and speak well of me in death. And when the tale is told, tell her to be the judge of whether Bassonio did not once have someone who truly loved him. Only regret that you are going to lose your friend, and he does not regret that he pays your debt. For if the Jew cuts deep enough, I'll pay it at once with all my heart.

Antonio, I am married to a wife Which is as dear to me as life itself, But life itself, my wife, and all the world, Are not with me esteem’d above thy life. I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all Here to this devil, to deliver you.

Antonio, I am married to a wife who is as dear to me as life itself; but life itself, my wife, and the whole world are not valued by me above your life. I would give up everything—yes, sacrifice all of it here to this devil—to set you free.

Your wife would give you little thanks for that If she were by to hear you make the offer.

Your wife would thank you very little for that if she were here to hear you make the offer.

I have a wife who I protest I love. I would she were in heaven, so she could Entreat some power to change this currish Jew.

I have a wife whom I swear I love. I wish she were in heaven, so that she could beg some power there to change this dog of a Jew.

’Tis well you offer it behind her back, The wish would make else an unquiet house.

It's a good thing you offer that behind her back; otherwise the wish would make for a troubled household.

These be the Christian husbands! I have a daughter— Would any of the stock of Barabbas Had been her husband, rather than a Christian! We trifle time, I pray thee, pursue sentence.

These are Christian husbands for you! I have a daughter—I would rather any of Barabbas's descendants had been her husband than a Christian! We are wasting time; please, go on with the sentence.

A pound of that same merchant’s flesh is thine, The court awards it and the law doth give it.

A pound of that merchant's flesh is yours. The court awards it and the law grants it.

Most rightful judge!

Most rightful judge!

And you must cut this flesh from off his breast. The law allows it and the court awards it.

And you must cut this flesh from his breast. The law permits it and the court awards it.

Most learned judge! A sentence! Come, prepare.

Most learned judge! There's a sentence! Come, get ready.

Tarry a little, there is something else. 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.

Wait a moment; there is something else. This bond gives you not one drop of blood here. The words are exactly "a pound of flesh": so take your bond, take your pound of flesh; but in cutting it, if you spill one drop of Christian blood, your lands and goods are, by the laws of Venice, forfeited to the state of Venice.

O upright judge! Mark, Jew. O learned judge!

Oh, upright judge! Take note, Jew. Oh, learned judge!

Is that the law?

Is that the law?

Thyself shalt see the act. For, as thou urgest justice, be assur’d Thou shalt have justice more than thou desir’st.

You shall see the statute yourself. Since you press for justice, be sure you will have more justice than you want.

O learned judge! Mark, Jew, a learned judge!

Oh, learned judge! Take note, Jew—a learned judge!

I take this offer then. Pay the bond thrice And let the Christian go.

Then I'll take this offer. Let the bond be paid three times over and let the Christian go.

Here is the money.

Here is the money.

Soft! The Jew shall have all justice. Soft! no haste! He shall have nothing but the penalty.

Wait! The Jew shall have full justice. Wait—no hurry! He shall have nothing but the penalty.

O Jew, an upright judge, a learned judge!

Oh, Jew—an upright judge, a learned judge!

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 tak’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.

So prepare yourself to cut off the flesh. Spill no blood, and cut no less and no more than exactly a pound of flesh: if you take more or less than an exact pound—even by as much as makes it light or heavy by the weight of a hair's worth of substance, or by a twentieth part of one tiny grain—no, if the scale tips even by the width of a hair, you die, and all your goods are confiscated.

A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew! Now, infidel, I have you on the hip.

A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew! Now, unbeliever, I have you at my mercy.

Why doth the Jew pause? Take thy forfeiture.

Why does the Jew hesitate? Take what is forfeited to you.

Give me my principal, and let me go.

Give me back my original loan, and let me go.

I have it ready for thee. Here it is.

I have it ready for you. Here it is.

He hath refus’d it in the open court, He shall have merely justice and his bond.

He has refused it in open court. He shall have nothing but justice and his bond.

A Daniel still say I, a second Daniel! I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word.

Still I say a Daniel, a second Daniel! Thank you, Jew, for teaching me that word.

Shall I not have barely my principal?

Am I not to have even just my original loan back?

Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.

You shall have nothing but the forfeit, to be taken at your own risk, Jew.

Why, then the devil give him good of it! I’ll stay no longer question.

Well then, let the devil give him joy of it! I'll stay for no more argument.

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 rehears’d. Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke.

Wait, Jew. The law still has another claim on you. It is written in the laws of Venice that if it is proved against a foreigner that by direct or indirect attempts he has sought the life of any citizen, the person against whom he plotted shall take half his goods; the other half goes to the private treasury of the state, and the offender's life lies wholly at the mercy of the Duke, against every other voice. That is exactly the position you are in, I say; for it appears by clear evidence in these proceedings that indirectly—and directly too—you have plotted against the very life of the defendant, and you have incurred the danger I have just described. So kneel down and beg mercy from 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.

Beg permission to hang yourself—and yet, since your wealth is forfeited to the state, you have not enough left to buy a rope; so you will have to be hanged at the state's expense.

That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, 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.

So that you may see how different our spirit is, I pardon your life before you ask for it. As for half your wealth, it is Antonio's; the other half goes to the state as a whole, though humility on your part may reduce it to a fine.

Ay, for the state, not for Antonio.

Yes, for the state's half, not for Antonio's.

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.

No, take my life and everything; don't pardon that. You take my house when you take away the prop that holds my house up; you take my life when you take the means by which I live.

What mercy can you render him, Antonio?

What mercy can you offer him, Antonio?

A halter gratis, nothing else, for God’s sake!

A free noose, nothing else, for God's sake!

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.

If it pleases my lord the Duke and the whole court to release the fine on one half of his goods, I am satisfied, provided he will let me have the other half in trust, to hand it over at his death to the gentleman who recently stole his daughter. Two further conditions: that in return for this favour he become a Christian at once; and the other, that he record a gift here in court of everything he owns at his death to his son Lorenzo and his daughter.

He shall do this, or else I do recant The pardon that I late pronounced here.

He shall do this, or else I take back the pardon I pronounced here a moment ago.

Art thou contented, Jew? What dost thou say?

Are you satisfied, Jew? What do you say?

I am content.

I am satisfied.

Clerk, draw a deed of gift.

Clerk, draw up a deed of gift.

I pray you give me leave to go from hence; I am not well; send the deed after me And I will sign it.

Please allow me to leave here. I am not well. Send the deed after me and I will sign it.

Get thee gone, but do it.

Go, then, but do it.

In christ’ning shalt thou have two god-fathers. Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, To bring thee to the gallows, not to the font.

At your christening you shall have two godfathers. If I had been the judge, you would have had ten more, to bring you to the gallows, not to the font.

Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner.

Sir, I invite you to come home with me to dinner.

I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon, I must away this night toward Padua, And it is meet I presently set forth.

I humbly ask your Grace to excuse me. I must leave tonight for Padua, and it is right that I set out at once.

I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. Antonio, gratify this gentleman, For in my mind you are much bound to him.

I am sorry that you have no time to spare. Antonio, reward this gentleman, for in my opinion you owe him a great deal.

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.

Most worthy gentleman, my friend and I have today been cleared by your wisdom of terrible penalties, and in return for that we willingly offer the three thousand ducats owed to the Jew as payment for your courteous trouble.

And stand indebted, over and above In love and service to you evermore.

And beyond that we remain in your debt, with love and service to you for ever.

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.

A man who is well satisfied is well paid, and in freeing you I am satisfied, and so I consider myself well paid. My mind was never any more money-minded than that. Please recognise me when we meet again. I wish you well, and with that I say goodbye.

Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further. Take some remembrance of us as a tribute, Not as fee. Grant me two things, I pray you, Not to deny me, and to pardon me.

Dear sir, I must necessarily press you further. Take some keepsake from us as a token, not as a fee. Grant me two things, I beg you: don't refuse me, and forgive 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.

You press me hard, and so I will give in. [To Antonio.] Give me your gloves; I'll wear them for your sake. [To Bassanio.] And as a sign of your love, I'll take this ring from you. Don't pull your hand back; I'll take nothing more, and out of love you won't refuse me this.

This ring, good sir? Alas, it is a trifle, I will not shame myself to give you this.

This ring, good sir? I'm sorry, it's a worthless thing. I won't disgrace myself by giving you this.

I will have nothing else but only this, And now methinks I have a mind to it.

I'll have nothing but this alone, and now I find I've set my heart on it.

There’s more depends on this than on the value. The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, And find it out by proclamation, Only for this I pray you pardon me.

There's more at stake in this than its value. I'll give you the most precious ring in Venice, and I'll find it by making a public announcement. Only about this one, please excuse me.

I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answer’d.

I see, sir, that you are generous with offers. You first taught me to beg, and now I think you're teaching me how a beggar ought to be answered.

Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife, And when she put it on, she made me vow That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it.

Good sir, this ring was given to me by my wife, and when she put it on my finger she made me swear that I would never sell it, or give it away, or lose it.

That ’scuse serves many men to save their gifts. And if your wife be not a mad-woman, And know how well I have deserv’d this ring, She would not hold out enemy for ever For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!

That excuse serves plenty of men to hold on to their presents. And unless your wife is out of her mind, once she knows how well I have earned this ring she wouldn't stay angry with you for ever for giving it to me. Well, peace be with you!

My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring. Let his deservings and my love withal Be valued ’gainst your wife’s commandment.

My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring. Let what he deserves, and my love as well, be weighed against your wife's order.

Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him; Give him the ring, and bring him if thou canst Unto Antonio’s house. Away, make haste.

Go, Gratiano, run and catch up with him. Give him the ring, and if you can, bring him to Antonio's house. Off you go, hurry.

Come, you and I will thither presently, And in the morning early will we both Fly toward Belmont. Come, Antonio.

Come, you and I will go there at once, and early in the morning we'll both hurry off toward Belmont. Come, Antonio.