Merchant of Venice

Shylock
My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,
The penalty and forfeit of my bond.
Portia, as Balthazar
Is he not able to discharge the money?
Bassanio 
Yes. Here I tender it for him in the court,
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Portia, as Balthazar
Shylock, there’s thrice thy money offered thee.
Shylock
An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven!
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul?
No, not for Venice!

By my soul I swear
There is no power in the tongue of man
To alter me.
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Portia, as Balthazar
A pound of that same merchant’s flesh is thine:
The court awards it, and the law doth give it.
Shylock
Most rightful judge!
Portia, as Balthazar
And you must cut this flesh from off his breast:
The law allows it, and the court awards it.
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Shylock
Shall I not have barely my principal?
Portia, as Balthazar
Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
Shylock
Why, then, the devil give him good of it!
I’ll stay no longer question.                        
 He begins to exit.

Down,
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Bassanio, to Portia as Balthazar
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.
Antonio
And stand indebted, over and above,
In love and service to you evermore.
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Lorenzo
The moon shines bright. In such a night as this,
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees
And they did make no noise, in such a night
Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls
And sighed his soul toward the Grecian tents
Where Cressid lay that night.

In such a night
Did pretty Jessica,
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How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank.
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony.
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven
Is thick inlaid with patens of bright gold.
There’s not the smallest orb which thou behold’st
But in his motion like an angel sings,
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Lorenzo
Come, ho! and wake Diana with a hymn.
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress’ ear,
And draw her home with music.
Music plays.
Jessica 
I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
Lorenzo
The reason is,
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Portia
That light we see is burning in my hall.
How far that little candle throws his beams!
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
Nerissa
When the moon shone we did not see the candle.

How many things by season seasoned are
To their right praise and true perfection!

Portia
So doth the greater glory dim the less.
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Lorenzo
Your husband is at hand. I hear his trumpet.
We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not.
Portia
This night methinks is but the daylight sick;
It looks a little paler. ’Tis a day
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.

I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend.
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