What faults does Portia finds in each suitor

The Neopolitan Prince is too fond of his horse.... jokes that he might be the son of a blacksmith.

Ay, that’s a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk of his horse, and he makes it a great appropriation to his own good parts that he can shoe him himself.

Count Palatine doesn't smile.... too sad, too somber.

He doth nothing but frown, as who should say, “An you will not have me, choose.” He hears merry tales and smiles not. I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth.

Monsieur le Bon is likely Portia's least favorite of the bunch, as he has the traits (unwanted traits) of them all.

God made him and therefore let him pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker, but he!—why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan’s, a better bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine. He is every man in no man.

Portia and Falconbridge share no common language.

You know I say nothing to him, for he understands not me, nor I him. He hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian, and you will come into the court and swear that I have a poor pennyworth in the English. He is a proper man’s picture, but alas, who can converse with a dumb show?

The Scottish lord has no backbone.

That he hath a neighborly charity in him, for he borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman and swore he would pay him again when he was able. I think the Frenchman became his surety and sealed under for another.

The German.... is a drunk.

Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk.