“He says he’s lost,” Iago said over his shoulder to Antonio. “Yet even now Portia’s maid Nerissa dotes on him and grants him her charms, and she is more than lovely for a serving girl.”

“I met her when I was trying to court Desdemona,” Rodrigo explained.

“And Desdemona shall you have. I promise it.”

“But how?”

Iago grinned at Antonio, then pulled Rodrigo close. “By the means which you take command of your fate, good Rodrigo. By the means that reason satisfies passion, young stallion. If you seek Desdemona, first you must put money in thy purse.”

“Truly?” asked Rodrigo.

“Really?” said Antonio, who was asking a completely different question.

“Aye, lad, put money in thy purse. Sell your lands, your treasures, call in your debtors, and when your purse is full, we are for Corsica and beautiful Desdemona. I tell thee truly, put money in thy purse.”

“Is there any more wine?” asked Rodrigo.

“I told you,” said Antonio.

Act II: The Watery City

ACT II

The Watery City

This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine.

—Prospero, The Tempest, Act V, Scene 1

Seven: La Giudecca

SEVEN

La Giudecca

CHORUS: Come now to a serpentine island south of the central districts of Venice called La Giudecca. Separated from the city not by a canal, easily bridged, but by a wide water avenue called Tronchetto–Lido di Venezia that must be traversed by gondola or ferry. Here, in sight of the Basilica of St. Mark, live all the Jews of Venice, and here, only, are they permitted to own property.

On this soft September morn, the beautiful Jessica, only daughter of the widower moneylender Shylock, has found upon the cobbled boat ramp before their house a small, pale, and naked man, who was coughed up by the lagoon with the night tide.

“Oh my! He breathes!”

CHORUS: Secretly, Jessica is overjoyed, not only because the flotsam fellow lives, but because she has been wishing for just such a delivery: a slave of her very own. While many well-to-do Venetians own slaves, the practice is forbidden to Jews and so Jessica is tasked by her father to keep house, cook, and perform other duties that a less tightfisted father might hire to have done.

But alas, here comes the old Jew now.

“There you are, Jessica. I am off to the Rialto.”

“Farewell, Papa.”

“Girl, why do you squat on the boat landing?”

“Having a wee, Papa.”

“In front of the house? Just like that? When I have had built a perfectly good privy in the house?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you. See, my skirts are around me. No one can even see.”

“That your mother cannot see you thus—peeing on the boat landing like a dog—for that I am grateful. I will return at noon for lunch. Do the washing-up.”

“Yes, Papa.”