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Flourish cornets Enter PORTIA with the Prince of MOROCCO, and both their trains |
Trumpets play. PORTIA enters with the prince of MOROCCO and both their entourages. |
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PORTIA
(to servant) Go draw aside the curtains and discover The several caskets to this noble prince.— (A curtain is drawn showing a gold, silver, and lead casket) (to MOROCCO) Now make your choice. |
PORTIA
(to servant) Go open the curtains and show the different boxes to the prince. A curtain is drawn revealing showing three caskets: one gold, one silver, and one lead. (to MOROCCO) Now make your choice. |
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MOROCCO
The first, of gold, who this inscription bears: “Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.” The second, silver, which this promise carries: “Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.” This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt: “Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.” How shall I know if I do choose the right? |
MOROCCO
The first one, the gold one, has an inscription that says, “He who chooses me will get what many men want.” The second one, the silver one, says, “He who chooses me will get what he deserves.” And this third one is made of dull lead. It has a blunt warning that says, “He who chooses me must give and risk all he has.” How will I know if I chose the right one? |
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PORTIA
The one of them contains my picture, Prince. If you choose that, then I am yours withal. |
PORTIA
One of them contains my picture. If you choose that one, I’m yours, along with the picture. |
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MOROCCO
Some god direct my judgment! Let me see. I will survey th’ inscriptions back again. What says this leaden casket? “Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.” Must give—for what? For lead? Hazard for lead? This casket threatens. Men that hazard all Do it in hope of fair advantages. A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross. I’ll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. What says the silver with her virgin hue? “Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.” “As much as he deserves!”—pause there, Morocco, And weigh thy value with an even hand. If thou beest rated by thy estimation, Thou dost deserve enough, and yet enough May not extend so far as to the lady, And yet to be afeard of my deserving Were but a weak disabling of myself. As much as I deserve! Why, that’s the lady. I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, In graces, and in qualities of breeding. But more than these, in love I do deserve. What if I strayed no further, but chose here? Let’s see once more this saying graved in gold, “Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.” Why, that’s the lady. All the world desires her. From the four corners of the earth they come To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds Of wide Arabia are as thoroughfares now For princes to come view fair Portia. The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar To stop the foreign spirits, but they come As o’er a brook to see fair Portia. One of these three contains her heavenly picture. Is ’t like that lead contains her? ’Twere damnation To think so base a thought. It were too gross To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. Or shall I think in silver she’s immured, Being ten times undervalued to tried gold? O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem Was set in worse than gold. They have in England A coin that bears the figure of an angel Stamped in gold, but that’s insculped upon. But here an angel in a golden bed |
MOROCCO
I wish some god could help me choose! Let me see. I’ll look over the inscriptions again. What does the lead box say? “He who chooses me must give and risk all he has.” Must give everything—for what? For lead? Risk everything for lead? This box is too threatening. Men who risk everything hope to make profits. A golden mind doesn’t bend down to choose something worthless. So I won’t give or risk anything for lead. What does the silver one say? “He who chooses me will get as much as he deserves.” As much as he deserves—wait a minute there, Morocco, and consider your own value with a level head. If your reputation is trustworthy, you deserve a lot—though maybe not enough to include this lady. But fearing I don’t deserve her is a way of underestimating myself. As much as I deserve—I deserve Portia! By birth I deserve her. In terms of wealth, talents, and upbringing, and especially love, I deserve her. What if I went no further and chose this one? But let’s see once more what the gold one says: “He who chooses me will get what many men want.” That’s Portia! The whole world wants her. They come from the four corners of the earth to kiss this shrine and see this living, breathing saint. Princes travel across deserts and the vast wilderness of Arabia to come see the beautiful Portia. The wide ocean doesn’t prevent them from coming to see her—they travel across it as if it were a little stream. One of these three boxes contains her lovely picture. Could the lead one contain it? No, it’d be a sin to think such a low thought. Lead’s too crass to hold her. Is she enclosed in silver, which is ten times less valuable than gold? Oh, what a sinful thought! Nobody ever set a gem like her in a worse setting than gold. They have a coin in England stamped with the figure of an angel, but that’s just engraved on the surface. |
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Lies all within.—Deliver me the key. Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may! |
Here an angel’s lying in a golden bed.—Give me the key. I will choose this one and try my chances. |
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PORTIA
(giving MOROCCO a key) There, take it, Prince. And if my form lie there Then I am yours. |
PORTIA
(she hands him a key) There, take it, prince. And if my picture’s in there, then I’m yours. |
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MOROCCO opens the golden casket |
MOROCCO opens the gold casket. |
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MOROCCO
O hell, what have we here? A carrion death, within whose empty eye There is a written scroll. I’ll read the writing. (reads) “All that glisters is not gold— Often have you heard that told. Many a man his life hath sold But my outside to behold. Gilded tombs do worms enfold. Had you been as wise as bold, Young in limbs, in judgment old, Your answer had not been inscrolled. Fare you well. Your suit is cold— Cold, indeed, and labor lost.” Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost! Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart To take a tedious leave. Thus losers part. |
MOROCCO
Damn it! What’s this? It’s a skull with a scroll in its empty eye socket. I’ll read it aloud. (he reads) “All that glitters is not gold— You’ve often heard that said. Many men have sold their souls Just to view my shiny surface. But gilded tombs contain worms. If you’d been as wise as you were bold, With an old man’s mature judgment, You wouldn’t have had to read this scroll. So goodbye—you lost your chance.” Lost my chance indeed! So goodbye hope, and hello despair. Portia, goodbye to you. My heart’s too sad for long goodbyes. Losers always leave quickly. |
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Exit MOROCCO with his train |
MOROCCO exits with his entourage. |
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PORTIA
A gentle riddance.—Draw the curtains, go.— Let all of his complexion choose me so. |
PORTIA
Good riddance!—Close the curtains and leave.—I hope everyone who looks like him will make the same choice. |
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Exeunt |
They exit. |