Belmont. A Room in PORTIA'S House. |
|
Enter NERISSA, with a Servitor. |
Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain straight: |
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, |
And comes to his election presently. |
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Flourish of Cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF ARRAGON, PORTIA, and their Trains. |
Por. Behold, there stands the caskets, noble prince: |
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, |
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd; |
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, |
You must be gone from hence immediately. |
Ar. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: |
First, never to unfold to any one |
Which casket 'twas I chose; next, if I fail |
Of the right casket, never in my life |
To woo a maid in way of marriage; |
Lastly, |
If I do fail in fortune of my choice, |
Immediately to leave you and be gone. |
Por. To these injunctions every one doth swear |
That comes to hazard for my worthless self. |
Ar. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now |
To my heart's hope! Gold, silver, and base lead. |
Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath: |
You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. |
What says the golden chest? ha! let me see: |
Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire. |
What many men desire! that 'many' may be meant |
By the fool multitude, that choose by show, |
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach; |
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet, |
Builds in the weather on the outward wall, |
Even in the force and road of casualty. |
I will not choose what many men desire, |
Because I will not jump with common spirits |
And rank me with the barbarous multitude. |
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house; |
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear: |
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves. |
And well said too; for who shall go about |
To cozen fortune and be honourable |
Without the stamp of merit? Let none presume |
To wear an undeserved dignity. |
O! that estates, degrees, and offices |
Were not deriv'd corruptly, and that clear honour |
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer. |
How many then should cover that stand bare; |
How many be commanded that command; |
How much low peasantry would then be glean'd |
From the true seed of honour; and how much honour |
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times |
To be new varnish'd! Well, but to my choice: |
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves. |
I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, |
And instantly unlock my fortunes here. [He opens the silver casket. |
Por. Too long a pause for that which you find there. |
Ar. What's here? the portrait of a blinking idiot, |
Presenting me a schedule! I will read it. |
How much unlike art thou to Portia! |
How much unlike my hopes and my deservings! |
Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves. |
Did I deserve no more than a fool's head? |
Is that my prize? are my deserts no better? |
Por. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices, |
And of opposed natures. |
Ar. What is here? | The fire seven times tried this: |
| Seven times tried that judgment is |
| That did never choose amiss. |
| Some there be that shadows kiss; |
| Such have but a shadow's bliss: |
| There be fools alive, I wis, |
| Silver'd o'er; and so was this. |
| Take what wife you will to bed, |
| I will ever be your head: |
| So be gone, sir: you are sped. |
|
Still more fool I shall appear |
By the time I linger here: |
With one fool's head I came to woo, |
But I go away with two. |
Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath, |
Patiently to bear my wroth. [Exit ARRAGON with his Train. |
Por. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. |
O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose, |
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. |
Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy: |
'Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.' |
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. |
|
Enter a Servant. |
Ser. Where is my lady? |
Por. Here; what would my lord? |
Ser. Madam, there is alighted at your gate |
A young Venetian, one that comes before |
To signify the approaching of his lord; |
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets, |
To wit,—besides commends and courteous breath,— |
Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen |
So likely an embassador of love. |
A day in April never came so sweet, |
To show how costly summer was at hand, |
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. |
Por. No more, I pray thee: I am half afeard |
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, |
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him. |
Come, come, Nerissa; for I long to see |
Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. |
Ner. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! [Exeunt. |
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