Nerissa and her husband quarrelling in a corner of the room. 'A
quarrel already?' said Portia. 'What is the matter?' Gratiano replied:
'Lady, it is about a paltry gilt ring that Nerissa gave me, with words
upon it like the poetry on a cutler's knife; Love me, and leave me not.'

'What does the poetry or the value of the ring signify?' said Nerissa.
'You swore to me when I gave it to you, that you would keep it till the
hour of death; and now you say you gave it to the lawyer's clerk. I
know you gave it to a woman.' 'By this hand,' replied Gratiano, 'I gave
it to a youth, a kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy, no higher than
yourself; he was clerk to the young counsellor that by his wise
pleading saved Antonio's life: this prating boy begged it for a fee, and
I could not for my life deny him.' Portia said: 'You were to blame,
Gratiano, to part with your wife's first gift. I gave my lord Bassanio a
ring, and I am sure he would not part with it for all the world.'
Gratiano, in excuse for his fault, now said: 'My lord Bassanio gave his
ring away to the counsellor, and then the boy, his clerk, that took
some pains in writing, he begged my ring.'

Portia, hearing this, seemed very angry, and reproached Bassanio for
giving away her ring; and she said, Nerissa had taught her what to
believe, and that she knew some woman had the ring. Bassanio was
very unhappy to have so offended his dear lady, and he said with great
earnestness: 'No, by my honour, no woman had it, but a civil doctor,
who refused three thousand ducats of me, and begged the ring, which
when I denied him, he went displeased away. What could I do, sweet
Portia? I was so beset with shame for my seeming ingratitude, that I
was forced to send the ring after him. Pardon me, good lady; had you
been there, I think you would have begged the ring of me to give the
worthy doctor.'