Antonio of Venice

Bassanio
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing,
more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as
two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you
shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you
have them, they are not worth the search.
Antonio
Well, tell me now what lady is the same
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage,
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Portia, as Balthazar
You, merchant, have you anything to say?
Antonio
But little. I am armed and well prepared.—
Give me your hand, Bassanio. Fare you well.

Commend me to your honorable wife,
Tell her the process of Antonio’s end,
Say how I loved you, speak me fair in death,
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Shylock
Shall I not have barely my principal?
Portia, as Balthazar
Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew.
Shylock
Why, then, the devil give him good of it!
I’ll stay no longer question.                        
 He begins to exit.

Down,
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Bassanio, to Portia as Balthazar
Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted
Of grievous penalties, in lieu whereof
Three thousand ducats due unto the Jew
We freely cope your courteous pains withal.
Antonio
And stand indebted, over and above,
In love and service to you evermore.
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Lorenzo
Your husband is at hand. I hear his trumpet.
We are no tell-tales, madam, fear you not.
Portia
This night methinks is but the daylight sick;
It looks a little paler. ’Tis a day
Such as the day is when the sun is hid.

I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend.
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Gratiano
My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away
Unto the judge that begged it, and indeed
Deserved it, too. And then the boy, his clerk,
That took some pains in writing, he begged mine,
And neither man nor master would take aught
But the two rings.
Portia
What ring gave you, my lord?
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