So, this is the woman that stole your heart.
You spoke truthfully, Bassanio; she is indeed fair.
With locks of spun gold and whispering eyes,
Though I suspect they whisper differently to you, my friend.
Do not look at me so, dear Lady. I am no rival.
This prize was yours long before you knew you desired it.
Yet still you cast your gaze in uncertainty.
It is the ring, is it not? How it freezes in your heart,
To know that he would cast your love aside so quickly.
Your fears are empty. Had I that power,
I would have claimed him long ago.
I am his friend, and you his only love.
His heart is bound to both of us.
To pull him from you would only serve
To tear that heart in two. And by my body,
My soul, my love, that, I will never do.
Go now, sweet Lady, return to your bed.
'Tis to you, not Antonio, Bassanio is wed.
I just saw A Merchant of Venice for the first time, and was astounded by the rather blatant homosexual undertones (or would that make them overtones?). I absolutely loved it all, but in the end, I felt sorry for Antonio. Of all the characters, his love was the truest and most selfless (platonic or not), and he is left sitting alone in the dark.
Note: For any rabid/anal Shakespeare fans, no, I did not write the whole thing in iambic pentameter. I'm not quite the genius ol' Will was, so the best I could do was hint at it.