Volegov Yellow Roses painting
Atroshenko The Passion of Music painting
Bring us the letter; call the messenger.
BASSANIO
Good cheer, Antonio! What, man, courage yet!The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all,Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood.
ANTONIO
I am a tainted wether of the flock,Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruitDrops earliest to the ground; and so let meYou cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio,Than to live still and write mine epitaph.
[Enter NERISSA, dressed like a lawyer's clerk]
DUKE
Came you from Padua, from Bellario?
NERISSA
From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace.
[Presenting a letter]
BASSANIO
Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly?
SHYLOCK
To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there.
GRATIANO
Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,Thou makest thy knife keen; but no metal can,No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keennessOf thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
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