“Go, go,” said Shylock. “Off to the Rialto to confirm my story for yourselves. You know how we Jews lie.”

Like scolded puppies, the two hurried off to the Rialto, desperately hoping to find that the Jew was lying.

It was true. It was true. They had actually spoken to the sailor from the sunken ship. But now, how to tell Antonio? They found him in his chambers, sitting with Bassanio, the two drinking wine that had been warmed by the fire, on the table what was left of a simple luncheon of bread, cheese, and thin slices of Parma ham.

“Come, join us,” said Antonio. “There is enough left for a meal, and I’ll wager you two haven’t eaten yet today.”

Gratiano and Salarino hurried to the table, but neither sat down. They stood.

“Friend Antonio,” said Gratiano, the tallest.

“Good Antonio,” said Salarino, the roundest.

“Good friend Antonio,” said Gratiano.

“Are you two going to sing?” said Bassanio, the handsomest. “I’m in no mood for your singing.”

“Noble, most generous Antonio,” said Gratiano.

“What?!” said Antonio. “What? What? What is it?”

“Another of your ships has been lost,” blurted out Salarino. “Sorry.”

Antonio set his goblet on the table and pushed back, his eyes closed, as if he was letting a wave of nausea pass through him before he spoke. Then he said, “Where did you hear of this?”

Gratiano looked to Salarino, who looked back. Should they say they had first heard it from the Jew? No. “It was passing on the Rialto,” said Gratiano. “But we found a sailor from the lost ship.”

And so the two took turns telling small bits of the tragedy, so at any time, when Antonio’s brow began to show a shadow of hatred or anger, the other would take the next fragment of the story to attract his attention.

When they were finished, Antonio pushed back in his chair yet again and spoke with head tilted back, eyes closed. “I have one argosy yet to deliver its goods and return safely to port, and with it I will pay my bond to the Jew.”

“But there is only one week,” said Bassanio.

“Yes, there is only one week, and the ship is overdue by two weeks already, so you must go to your Portia, who has still had no one pass her father’s test, and ask her if she will help you. I ask you to do this, Bassanio, as your dearest friend, who loves you most. You must do this.”

“I will, Antonio. I think she has no access to the family fortune unless her sister, who is away in Corsica, relents, but I will ask her to show her pity for you as if it were for me, for in my heart it is.”