Act II, Scene 7

Belmont. A room in PORTIA’S house.

Flourish of cornets. Enter PORTIA, with the PRINCE OF MOROCCO, and their trains

• Portia. Go draw aside the curtains and discover
  The several caskets to this noble prince.
  Now make your choice.

• Prince of Morocco. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears, 990
  '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.' 995
  How shall I know if I do choose the right?

• Portia. The one of them contains my picture, prince:
  If you choose that, then I am yours withal.

• Prince of Morocco. Some god direct my judgment! Let me see;
  I will survey the inscriptions back again. 1000
  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: 1005
  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, 1010
  And weigh thy value with an even hand:
  If thou be'st 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 1015
  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. 1020
  What if I stray'd 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, 1025
  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 1030
  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 1035
  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 1040
  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 insculp'd upon;
  But here an angel in a golden bed
  Lies all within. Deliver me the key: 1045
  Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may!

• Portia. There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there,
  Then I am yours.

[He unlocks the golden casket]

• Prince of Morocco. O hell! what have we here? 1050
  A carrion Death, within whose empty eye
  There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing.
  [Reads]
  All that glitters is not gold;
  Often have you heard that told: 1055
  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, 1060
  Your answer had not been inscroll'd:
  Fare you well; your suit is cold.
  Cold, indeed; and labour lost:
  Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!
  Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart 1065
  To take a tedious leave: thus losers part.

[Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets]

• Portia. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go.
  Let all of his complexion choose me so.

[Exeunt]