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 keenness
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee?
Shylock
No, none that thou hast wit enough to make.
Gratiano
And for thy life let justice be accused.
Thou almost makest me waver in my faith
To hold opinion with Pythagoras,
That souls of animals infuse themselves
Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit
Govern’d a wolf, who, hang’d for human slaughter,
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,
And, whilst thou lay’st in thy unhallow’d dam,
Infused itself in thee; for thy desires
Are wolvish, bloody, starved and ravenous.