“Wait, Jew.” The doge conferred with the other five on the council, Brabantio’s seat still unfilled, and after a bit of nodding, said, “The bond on Antonio by the laws of Venice is dismissed, and he is free to go. As the young doctor of law stated, you, Shylock, an alien, have broken the laws of Venice in pursuit of your bond, so it is invalid.”

“You know,” said I, “I presume, Your Grace, that the young doctor was not a doctor of law but a young lady. And by the way, that gigantic slapper with the erection that followed her out was not, in case you were further confused.”

“I would have justice,” said Shylock. “If not my bond, the gold.”

“You forfeit the gold as well,” said the doge. “The council has determined it.”

“One moment,” said I. “Where were you born, Shylock?”

“I was born here, on La Giudecca, where I have lived all my life.”

“And where do you make your living?”

“On the Rialto, as any merchant. I make my living where business is done in Venice.”

“How, Your Grace, is Shylock, who was born and raised in Venice, an alien? Does Venice determine the alien at its convenience, so that traders from other lands may not be protected upon the whim of the city?”

There was a lot of whispering going on in the gallery, I presume among the traders from many nations who were in attendance.

The doge looked at his brethren on the council, then cleared his throat. “Shylock is an alien in that he is a Jew, and does not pay homage to the church and our Lord. Such was shown in his refusal to grant mercy to Antonio, as mercy and forgiveness are the instruction of our Lord.”

“Well, yes,” said I. “The Hebrew God is a great, vengeful twat, isn’t he? Wiping out whole races of people on a whim, storming around in jealous rage, while your Christian God ponces around with, ‘Oh, by your leave, good sir, allow me to turn the other cheek and wash your bloody disgusting feet. Have some loaves with them fishes?’

“Oh, that one time he did throw a wobbly with the money changers in the Temple, which, not to herniate the bloody metaphor in this little scenario, would be you fucks, and for it, you, you bloody Italians, nailed him to a tree. Shylock is a Jew, but you papists use your Jesus like I use my bloody puppet stick here.” I bobbed Jones before them.

“You lead in with his ‘suffer the little children come unto me,’ when it’s convenient, but the whole time you got your vengeful Old Testament God right behind, like a wicked dagger hidden in the small of your back, ready to smite the first flailing fuck that works against your interests.” I drew one of my daggers, as quick as a cat, and made as if I was dirking some imaginary foe.