To lay such swingeing penance on the knave
As scarce would leave him space to sup his broth
Amid the pauses of his punishment.
[Exeunt citizens, with shouts.
Scene II.
Venice. A Room, in Shylock’s House.
[Enter Shylock and Tubal.
Tubal. How now, Shylock! What bitter woe looks from thy face? What has chanced to thee in the Christian’s court to make thee thus distraught?
Shylock. O Tubal, Tubal, there dwells no more pity in the Christian breast than there abides justice therein. I stood for justice and mine own, before them all; before that smiling, smooth-faced judge from Padua, and with those false smiles of his he turned against me the sharp edge of the law. He forbade the shedding of one drop of the merchant Antonio’s blood—naming therefor some ancient law, musty for centuries, and that still had gathered dust till it would serve to bait the Jew with—and so I lost my revenge upon Antonio. More than that, good Tubal, I lost everything I had to lose.
Tubal. Lost everything! Now, by our ancient prophets, this is woe indeed.
Shylock. Aye, good Tubal. The half my goods are now adjudged Antonio’s; the other half, upon my death, goes to the knave, Lorenzo; that same he that lately stole my ducats and my daughter.