CHORUS:

And so the noble fool, Pocket,

Did lay his plans to breach Villa Belmont,

And undo Antonio’s plan for his protégé,

Then make way to rescue from prison

His companions, the estimable Drool and Jeff.

“Now you’re just groveling, you pernicious lickspittle,” said I as I made my way into the square at St. Mark’s. It was too late to find a ferry to La Giudecca, and too early to try to catch a ride with a fisherman, so I curled up in an alcove by the great cathedral and dozed, riding the dreamy waves of Viv’s poison in my blood until the bells rang at dawn, calling the faithful to mass.

Gondolas had begun to arrive at the landing at the docks at St. Mark’s, and I spotted the gondolier who had taken Shylock and me to the Rialto yesterday.

“Oy, boatman,” I called. “Remember me? Shylock’s secretary.” To aid his memory, I put on my wounded yellow hat, which was stained with a bit of my blood as well as bearing its own stab wounds.

“Aye,” said the gondolier, who was buffing his oar in an unsavory manner. “Wasn’t you taller yesterday, though?”

“Rough night,” said I. “Say, mate, could you give us a lift to La Giudecca gratis? The dice turned against me. I’ve not coin left to my name.” I lifted my bare foot to show him that I’d lost even my shoes. It was a pitifully sad sight. Pitiful. I felt tears welling.

“Your master fired me, didn’t he?” said the obstinate boatman. “I don’t think any favors are owed.”

I might have argued—convinced him of payment later and a return to Shylock’s good graces, but I had no gut for guile or persuasion. “Look, I’ll give you this smashing dagger. It’s got a fake jewel in it.”

The boatman eyed the dagger. It had a wide hand guard with jewels, probably colored glass, at the tips, as well as one set in the pommel. Rather garish, considering it was unlawful to carry unless one was a soldier, but as Salanio had said, shortly before his talking bits were detached from the rest of him, everyone had knives.

“A bloke would have trouble if a gendarme found that about his person,” said the gondolier.

“Well, you can sell it to a cutthroat on the docks, can’t you? Look at the bloody thing. It’s like new. There’re at least a dozen dirkings left in it, and that’s not even counting stabbing the odd apple or orphan.”

“Blimey, you’ve a gruesome tongue for a Jew.”

“Aforementioned bad night, innit? Now, the dagger for fare to Giudecca, or you may hold it as security until I receive pay from my master, and I’ve another job for you tonight as well, for which you’ll be paid ten times your normal fare.”