Act IV. Scene I

He knew the story by heart and so did the audience. Every time he would whet his knife, audience would cuss him silently. And yet, Antonio would not lose his pound of flesh. His wealth would not be his at the end. He would have to embrace a religion he despised and would forever be disgraced. Every time he left the stage in disgrace, the hall would resound with thundering applause. 

And how he loved being cussed. And how he loved that thundering applause… the lights shining upon him, the audience dimmed to oblivion in darkness. If anyone was standing at the top of the world, it was him. If anyone was able to part the ocean by sheer strength of voice, it was him…for the waves could not deny the voice if he ever chose to ask them to part. An when the hall was as silent as being empty, his voice would thunder across the hall,

“…………………….You will answer

'The slaves are ours:' so do I answer you:

The pound of flesh, which I demand of him,

Is dearly bought; 'tis mine and I will have it.

If you deny me, fie upon your law!”

O how he loved the stage! O how he loved the tremble of the voice in the first few seconds and the crescendo as time moved on. He would pull out his knife, his weighing scale….all eternally parched for a pound of flesh (with blood) that they will never get. There were audience waiting in the darkness or…wait…are they not the Venetian crowd waiting to witness the Jew being punished? Again and again? Are those not the judges standing like fools waiting to be manipulated by a young lawyer? Again and again?

And is this not the Antonio who spit upon his face the other day and would walk away smiling with grim satisfaction when Shylock would be charged with Inhumanity? Again and again?

Or was he wrong…was he dreaming? He would never know…

When he removed the thick layers of make-up, his thick Jewish eyebrows, his accentuated red lips, the macabre cut line across his face, he would slowly enter a character--the character of being a normal man. The new sets would be set. Venice would disappear when he uttered the dialogues of a man off stage…he would laugh less dramatically…and would not cry at all. He would go to bed, wake up, eat, comment on the rising prices..but he will not be his normal self….one who liked being cussed and spewed upon….the cruelty over done with the thick makeup…waiting for the curtains to raise and waiting to claim the pound of flesh, he shall never get. 

Lights. Camera. Act IV. Scene I.