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Duke.

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

Shy.

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 burthens? 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 as 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?

Duke.

Upon my power I may dismiss this court,

Unless Bellario, a learned doctor,

Whom I have sent for to determine this,

Come here to-day.

Sal.

My lord, here stays without

A messenger with letters from the doctor,

New come from Padua.

Duke.

Bring us the letters; call the messenger.