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I could not for my heart deny it him.

Por.

You were to blame, I must be plain with you,

To part so slightly with your wive’s first gift,

A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger,

And so riveted with faith unto your flesh.

I gave my love a ring, and made him swear

Never to part with it, and here he stands.

I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it,

Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth

That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano,

You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief;

And ’twere to me I should be mad at it.

Bass. [Aside.]

Why, I were best to cut my left hand off,

And swear I lost the ring defending it.

Gra.

My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away

Unto the judge that begg’d it, and indeed

Deserv’d it too; and then the boy, his clerk,

That took some pains in writing, he begg’d mine,

And neither man nor master would take aught

But the two rings.

Por.

What ring gave you, my lord?

Not that, I hope, which you receiv’d of me.

Bass.

If I could add a lie unto a fault,