PORTIA
Then must the Jew be merciful.
SHYLOCK
On what compulsion must I? tell me that.
PORTIA
The quality of mercy is not strain'd,
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes
The throned monarch better than his crown;
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. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much
To mitigate the justice of thy plea;
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there.
SHYLOCK
But three nights since, the new moon set at dusk.
Then on our ancient calendar commenced
The month of Elul. Then we Jews begin
With solemn prayer and David's holy psalm
Our preparations for the Days of Awe,
The New Year and the dread Atonement Day.
For in that season, God, the highest Judge,
Doth render judgement for the coming year,
And all who live are sentenced to their fates:
To prosper or to fail; to live, to die.
The fishes in the water quake with fear.
The angels in high heaven are dismayed.
And we mere men, of all God's many works
The most corrupted, laden with great sins,
Devoid of merits, how can we deserve
A favorable judgement if the Judge
Judges by the rule of stringent justice?
Therefore we bend our heads, afflict our souls,
Abstain from food and drink; and spend our days
In penitence and prayer and charity
That God may put away his righteous wrath
And turn to mercy. Shylock must not come
On that great day before that highest court
Burdened with a pound of human flesh
And foul with the blood-guilt of a death.
[To Antonio}
Antonio, go! I'll take no gold from you.
The debt you owe me, give it to the poor,
That charity earn merit for us both.
[To Portia]
To thee, wise youth, I owe a greater debt
Than does Antonio. Thou hast gained for him
But thirty, forty years of life, no more,
While, by thy speech, thou hast preserved for me
My place in the eternal world of truth.
Yet still I have a further boon to ask:
Each year, at the beginning of the fall,
Pray for the peace of Shylock's wretched soul.
Thy words of mercy soothed the vengeful hate
That burned inside a weary, maddened heart.
He of the still small voice will gladly hear
Thy gentle voice and will accept thy prayer.
To avoid any possible confusion: Portia's long speech is of course Shakespeare. Shylock's speech is mine.