The Merchant of Venice

He hath disgraced me, and hindered me half a million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; and what’s his reason? I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that.

The quality of mercy is not strain’d,It droppeth as the gentle rain from heavenUpon the place beneath: it is twice blest;It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:’Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomesThe 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;

But little: I am arm’d and well prepared.Give me your hand, Bassanio: fare you well!Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;For herein Fortune shows herself more kindThan is her custom: it is still her useTo let the wretched man outlive his wealth,To view with hollow eye and wrinkled browAn age of poverty; from which lingering penanceOf such misery doth she cut me off.Commend me to your honourable wife:Tell her the process of Antonio’s end;Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death;And, when the tale is told, bid her be judgeWhether Bassanio had not once a love.