“If I could add a lie to the fault, I would deny it,” said Bassanio. “But, you see, my finger has not the ring upon it; it is gone.” Portia, on hearing this, pretended to get very angry and jealous, and no excuses that Bassanio made could appease her. “Sweet Portia,” he said, “if you knew to whom I gave the ring, if you knew for whom I gave the ring, and would understand for what I gave the ring, and how unwillingly I left the ring, when nothing would be accepted but the ring, you would abate the strength of your displeasure.” “If you had known the virtue of the ring,” retorted Portia, “or half her worthiness that gave the ring, or your own honour to retain the ring, you would not then have parted with the ring.” Portia thoroughly enjoyed the fun of teasing her husband, and she and Nerissa made the poor men quite unhappy before the secret was revealed. Finally Antonio, distressed at the discord which he imagined he had brought between husband and wife, interceded for Bassanio, and Portia allowed herself to be soothed. “Since you will be surety for him,” she said to Antonio, “give him this ring, and bid him keep it better than the other.” “By heaven it is the same I gave the doctor!” cried Bassanio. So all ended happily. The mystery was explained, and Bassanio and Gratiano were duly forgiven. To add to the general pleasure, news reached Portia that three of Antonio’s argosies had come safely to harbour, so, after all, he was no longer a bankrupt, but once again a rich and prosperous merchant of Venice. As You Like It [Illustration] Oliver and Orlando Deep in the Forest of Arden lived a merry company. The Duke of that country, banished by his usurping brother Frederick, had taken refuge among the green woods, and there, far from the pomp and envious clamour of Court, he lived happily with a few faithful followers. Custom had made this new life sweeter than the old one of showy state. Here were no fawning courtiers, no slander and intrigue; the only hardships were those of the changing seasons. Even when the keen winds of winter made the Duke shrink with cold, he would smile and say: “This is no flattery; these are counsellors that make me feel really what I am;” and the biting blast seemed to him less cruel than the falsehood and ingratitude of men.