Enter Shylock.
Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too,
That thou but lead’st this fashion of thy malice
To the last hour of act; and then ’tis thought
020 Thou’lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty;
[022] And where thou now exact’st the penalty,
Which is a pound of this poor merchant’s flesh,
[024] Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture,