The letter from Bellario stated that he was too ill to come himself, but that he had sent in his place a very wise and learned young doctor, whom he had thoroughly instructed in the case, and whose wonderful skill and judgment could be thoroughly relied on. The letter ended by saying that the Duke must not mistrust the new-comer because of his lack of years, for Bellario “never knew so young a body with so old a head.” It was well Bellario had given this warning, for surely no younger-looking Doctor of Laws had ever entered the Court of Justice. Portia’s locks of sunny gold were hidden away beneath the doctor’s cap, but nothing could conceal the youth and beauty of her face. No token of hesitation or inexperience, however, was visible in her handling of the case. She plunged at once into the heart of the matter. Her first step was to appeal to Shylock on the score of mercy, and in words of the most moving eloquence she tried to soften the Jew’s hard heart, and to show him that higher even than the _Justice_ which he claimed was the quality of _Mercy_. But Shylock stood there rigid; he might have been cut in granite for any effect that Portia’s words had on him. “I crave the law, the penalty and forfeit of my bond,” came the usual stubborn response. Then Portia asked if Antonio had not money to discharge the debt. Yes, replied Bassanio, it was there ready in the court--yea, twice the sum. If that would not suffice, he would bind himself to pay it ten times over. If this did not satisfy the Jew, it was quite evident that he was acting through sheer malice; and Bassanio besought the learned young doctor to wrest the law just a little on this occasion, and, in order to do a great right, do a little wrong. “It must not be,” replied Portia. Nothing could alter an established decree, for many an error by the same example might creep into the State. The law must be kept; the bond must be fulfilled to the very letter. “A Daniel come to judgment!” cried the triumphant Shylock. “O wise young judge, how I do honour thee!” The friends of Antonio stood silent in dismay. Even Gratiano, who had been loud in denunciation of the Jew’s savage cruelty, had no words now. The bond was forfeit, Portia continued, and the Jew had the right to exact the penalty if he chose. But her winning voice still pleaded: “Be merciful! Take thrice thy money, bid me tear the bond.” “When it is paid according to the tenor,” was the grim reply. Antonio saw that all hope was over; there was no use in prolonging the discussion. “Most heartily I do beseech the court to give the judgment,” he said earnestly.