1 My young master doth expect your reproach.
2 Let music sound while he doth make his choice.
3 Ere I ope his letter, I pray you tell me how my good friend doth.
4 This letter from Bellario doth commend A young and learned doctor to our court.
5 To these injunctions everyone doth swear That comes to hazard for my worthless self.
6 We do pray for mercy, And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.
7 A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine, The court awards it and the law doth give it.
8 It doth appear you are a worthy judge; You know the law; your exposition Hath been most sound.
9 But come at once, For the close night doth play the runaway, And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast.
10 He plies the Duke at morning and at night, And doth impeach the freedom of the state If they deny him justice.
11 Yet look how far The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow In underprizing it, so far this shadow Doth limp behind the substance.
12 To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being I hope an old man, shall frutify unto you.
13 Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse, and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts that he can shoe him himself.
14 Take this same letter, And use thou all th endeavour of a man In speed to Padua, see thou render this Into my cousin's hands, Doctor Bellario; And look what notes and garments he doth give thee, Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed Unto the traject, to the common ferry Which trades to Venice.
15 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.
16 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.
17 Madam, you have bereft me of all words, Only my blood speaks to you in my veins, And there is such confusion in my powers As after some oration fairly spoke By a beloved prince, there doth appear Among the buzzing pleased multitude, Where every something being blent together, Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy Express'd and not express'd.
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