“Ah. Yes. Know this. I do hate him with all my being and I would have him undone. Does this shock you?”

“No, signor,” said I. “I am sure he has given you reason for your ire.” Having somewhat to do with his being a massive festering twat! I hastened to not add, lest I reveal my own substantial prejudice. Still, it appeared that Shylock and I were, indeed, brothers in arms, even if he did not know it.

We followed Bassanio into the arch, where Antonio held court with a group of young men. All seemed too tall or too light of hair to be Jessica’s Lorenzo. The merchant was dressed in higher finery than his companions, silks and damask—higher finery, I thought, than appropriate when about to ask an enemy for a loan. I kept my eyes to the ground, my hat covering most of my face. If discovered, I could make no escape on the chopines, and I’d never be out of them in time to elude Antonio’s entourage, but by God’s cloud-cushioned balls, I would slash the fish knife across the inside of Antonio’s thigh before I went down, and he would watch his fine hosiery spoilt as his life ran between the pavers in red rivulets. But there were three men to undo, three on whom to wreak revenge, so better the knife stay nested in its sheath of rags in Jessica’s boot, which I wore as well. (Yes, I have small feet. The rest is myth. No one finds you clever.)

“Antonio,” said Shylock, with a nod. “You do not borrow. I heard you say it when you denounced my business.”

“I never do, Shylock, for myself. But I break custom to supply the ripe wants of my friend. Did he tell you the amount?”

“Aye, three thousand ducats.”

“For three months,” marked Antonio.

“Yes, yes, for three months. I had forgotten. But word is on the Rialto that all of your fortunes are at sea. You have an argosy bound for Spain, another in the Black Sea, and a third bound for Egypt. All subject to the temper of the sea and attacks from Genoans and pirates. I should bear your risk without reward? Yet you have called my charging interest evil.”

“Charge what you will. My ships and fortunes shall all be returned within two months, a month before my bond is forfeited.”

“Three thousand ducats; tis a good round sum,” said Shylock, stroking his beard in thought.

“Tis a sick elephant’s shitload,” I whispered. “Are you daft?”

“Shhhhhh, boy,” said Shylock.

“Sorry,” said I. They’d all looked to me when I spoke, even Antonio, and there was no spark of recognition in his eye, nor did he see the fire in mine. His gaze stopped at the shore of my outfit and “Jew” was all he saw. Unworthy of a second look. I began to fancy my yellow hat.