Chapter: SCENE 9.

Belmont. A room in PORTIA's house.

[Enter NERISSA, with a SERVITOR.]

NERISSA.
Quick, quick, I pray thee, draw the curtain straight;
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath,
And comes to his election presently.

[Flourish of cornets. Enter the PRINCE OF ARRAGON, PORTIA, and
their Trains.]

PORTIA.
Behold, there stand 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.

ARRAGON.
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.

PORTIA.
To these injunctions every one doth swear
That comes to hazard for my worthless self.

ARRAGON.
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 th' 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 multitudes.
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.]

PORTIA.
Too long a pause for that which you find there.

ARRAGON.
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?

PORTIA.
To offend, and judge, are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures.

ARRAGON.
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; 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 ARAGON with his train.]

PORTIA.
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.

NERISSA.
The ancient saying is no heresy:
'Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.'

PORTIA.
Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.

[Enter a SERVANT.]

SERVANT.
Where is my lady?

PORTIA.
Here; what would my lord?

SERVANT.
Madam, there is alighted at your gate
A young Venetian, one that comes before
To signify th' 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 ambassador 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.

PORTIA.
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.

NERISSA.
Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be!

[Exeunt.]

 At Portia's house in Belmont, yet another suitor, the Prince of Arragon , has come to try his hand at the casket game. Portia welcomes the man half-heartedly, and all are reminded that this particular recreation has some rules. The Prince of Arragon lists the rules so we all know what's up: first, he can never tell anyone which casket he chose; second, if he picks the wrong casket, he can never woo a woman in the way of marriage; and third, if he picks the wrong casket, he has to go away immediately. No sticking around to cry about it--and no stalking either! The Prince then goes through a line of reasoning like the Prince of Morocco's. Arragon says the lead casket needs to be better-looking before he'd risk anything for it. Arragon then rules out the gold casket as something that would only appeal to those deceived into valuing appearances more than actual value. Arragon then hems and haws about the silver casket's inscription about getting what he deserves. He says if people were better at judging what was deserved, some great men would be knocked down, and some poor men raised up. Still, he's weighed it and decided he deserves Portia--so he picks the silver casket. He's wrong. There's a picture of a fool's head inside. Portia and Nerissa are, again, glad to see him go, but Portia then gets news from a messenger about a man she'd like to see come. Apparently, a man full of sweet manners has shown up in Belmont. He says he's here to announce that his lord, another Venetian, is soon to follow. Until the lord gets there, however, the man brings his apologies, courtesies, and gifts of great value. The messenger who saw the guy comments that the visiting Venetian is awfully sweet and generally makes a good showing in preparation for the lord who's on his way. Portia teases the messenger for being full of such high praise, but she rushes Nerissa out to take a look at the man playing Cupid for the Venetian gentleman. Nerissa hopes that the soon-to-arrive Venetian will be Bassanio, the guy she and Portia like more than any other.

