“This is highly irregular,” said the doge. “Women are not permitted to speak before the court.”

“Yes, Your Grace, but as I am the only voice of my family still among the quick, allowances are due, don’t you think?”

“We are sorry to hear about your sister, lady, and I suppose—”

“It shall not be so!” barked Portia. “A woman shall not speak before the court unless a case is made against her.”

“Thank you for your condolences, Your Grace. I was very close to my sister. It seems like only yesterday that we were but girls blossoming into womanhood, sharing a bath, touching each other in the most delicious—”

“This woman is an imposter!” shouted Iago.

“Yes,” said I, turning to the soldier, pulling my fan aside, fluttering my eyelashes at him, and Portia, in turn. “Do go on, you handsome ruffian.”

Portia turned to Iago and tried, with a shake of her head, to subtly signal for him to shut the fuck up, but all eyes in the court that were not still captured by the horrific grandeur of Drool in skirts saw her move.

Iago stepped back in rank with Bassanio. “Excuse me, Your Grace, I am mistaken.”

“Fooled by the bloody frog of war, innit?” said the puppet Jones from under my skirts.

“The fog of war, you Cockney knob,” said I.

“Your Grace, if I may. Before you unbind Antonio, I think the solution to the dilemma stated by the young judge is simple. Shylock need only lay his knife in one of these braziers until it is red hot, then make his cut with the glowing knife, thus cauterizing the wound as he cuts. Not a drop of blood shall be spilled. Once the blade is quenched, he may heat it again, then make his next cut. He’ll have his pound of flesh and Antonio will not have lost a drop of blood. There may be some discomfort, as the surgeons say, but it will satisfy the law. Such a method is often used on the field of battle to cauterize wounds, is it not, Iago?”

Iago, now retreated to join Bassanio, seemed as if he’d rather not venture an opinion.

Antonio was dazed now, having lived his terror, his rescue, and now his return to jeopardy, all while still tied to a chair.

“Iago,” said the doge. “Why are you here? Are you not to come before us in two days?”

“Yes, Iago,” I said. “Please explain why you are here—why after all but murdering your commander and my queen, and conspiring with the enemies of Venice—why are you early?”

Shylock picked up his knife from the floor, took a few steps, and stabbed the blade into the coals of the brazier closest him, at which point Antonio appeared to faint.

Iago stormed over to me, loomed over my helpless and womanly figure. “This, this, is not Brabantio’s daughter, Your Grace.”