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

Go open up the curtains to reveal

The several caskets to this noble prince.

All of the boxes to this noble prince.

Now make your choice.

MOROCCO

The first, of gold, who this inscription bears,

The first box, made of gold, has this inscription:

'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;'

“Whoever chooses me gets what most men desire.”

The second, silver, which this promise carries,

The second, made of silver, promises:

'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;'

“Whoever chooses me gets all that he deserves.”

This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,

This third box, made of lead, just bluntly warns:

'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.'

“Whoever chooses me must give and risk his all.”

How shall I know if I do choose the right?

How will I know if I have picked the right one?

PORTIA

The one of them contains my picture, prince:

For one of them contains my picture, prince:

If you choose that, then I am yours withal.

If you choose that one, I’m completely yours.

MOROCCO

Some god direct my judgment! Let me see;

Some god, give me advice here! Let me see;

I will survey the inscriptions back again.

I’ll study the inscriptions once again.

What says this leaden casket?

What’s written on this box of lead?

'Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.'

“Whoever chooses me must give and risk his all.”

Must give: for what? For lead? Hazard for lead?

“Must give”: for what? For lead? Risk all for lead?

This casket threatens. Men that hazard all

This box is risky. Men that risk their all

Do it in hope of fair advantages:

Do so in hope that they will win much more.

A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross;

A golden mind won’t pick up something worthless;

I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead.

So I won’t give nor risk my all for lead.

What says the silver with her virgin hue?

What does this silver box say, shining pure?

'Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.'

“Whoever chooses me gets all that he deserves.”

As much as he deserves! Pause there, Morocco,

“Gets all that he deserves”! Wait, Prince Morocco,

And weigh thy value with an even hand:

Assess your worth with level-headedness:

If thou be'st rated by thy estimation,

If you believe what you think you are worth,

Thou dost deserve enough; and yet enough

Then that is quite a lot; but quite a lot

May not extend so far as to the lady:

Still may not be enough to win the lady.

And yet to be afeard of my deserving

But yet if I’m afraid of my own worth,

Were but a weak disabling of myself.

I’d undermine myself from doubting weakness.

As much as I deserve! Why, that's the lady:

“Gets all that he deserves”! Then that’s the lady:

I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes,

I’m born a prince, deserving her; by wealth,

In graces and in qualities of breeding;

By manners, and by strength of lineage;

But more than these, in love I do deserve.

But, more than that, by love I do deserve her.

What if I strayed no further, but chose here?

What if I looked no further, choosing this box?

Let's see once more this saying graved in gold

Let’s read these words again carved on the gold box:

'Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.'

“Whoever chooses me gets what most men desire.”

Why, that's the lady; all the world desires her;

Well, that’s the lady; everyone desires her.

From the four corners of the earth they come,

They come from every corner of the world

To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint:

To kiss this precious, living human saint:

The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds

The windswept deserts south of the Caspian Sea

Of wide Arabia are as thoroughfares now

And all across Arabia now are pathways

For princes to come view fair Portia:

For princes visiting the lovely Portia.

The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head

The oceans, with their monumental waves

Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar

That spit their water skyward, don’t prevent

To stop the foreign spirits, but they come,

Enthusiastic foreigners that come,

As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia.

Like they’re crossing a stream, to visit Portia.

One of these three contains her heavenly picture.

One box from three contains her gorgeous picture.

Is't like that lead contains her? 'Twere damnation

What chance it is the lead box? It is damning

To think so base a thought: it were too gross

To think such dreadful thoughts. It would be awful

To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave.

To shroud her in such plain material.

Or shall I think in silver she's immured,

Or should I think of her wrapped up in silver,

Being ten times undervalued to tried gold?

Which is one-tenth the value of pure gold?

O sinful thought! Never so rich a gem

An awful thought! A gem like her has never

Was set in worse than gold. They have in England

Been set in less than gold. They have in England

A coin that bears the figure of an angel

Stamped in gold, but that's insculped upon;

Stamped in gold, but that’s cut on the outside;

But here an angel in a golden bed

But here the angel’s picture in the gold

Lies all within. Deliver me the key:

Is stored within. Give me the golden key:

Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may!

I choose that, hoping lady-luck’s with me!

PORTIA

There, take it, prince; and if my form lie there,

There, take it, prince, and if it holds my picture,

Then I am yours.

[He unlocks the golden casket]

MOROCCO

O hell! What have we here?

Oh hell! What have we here?

A carrion Death, within whose empty eye

A dead man’s skull, and in his empty eye,

There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing.

There is a written note! I’ll read the writing.

[Reads]

All that glitters is not gold;

“All that glitters is not gold;

Often have you heard that told:

You’ve often heard that story told:

Many a man his life hath sold

Many a man his life has sold

But my outside to behold:

To see my outside made of gold:

Gilded tombs do worms enfold.

But gold tombs only worms enfold.

Had you been as wise as bold,

If you’d have been as wise as bold,

Young in limbs, in judgment old,

With youthful body, judgment old,

Your answer had not been inscrolled:

A different answer you’d have told:

Fare you well; your suit is cold.

Goodbye, because your chance turned cold.”

Cold, indeed; and labour lost:

Cold, indeed; my work is lost:

Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost!

So goodbye heat, and welcome frost!

Portia, adieu. I have too grieved a heart

And, goodbye, Portia; pain within my heart

To take a tedious leave: thus losers part.

Means I must leave; this loser must depart.

[Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets]

PORTIA

A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go.

A fond farewell. Now draw the curtains, go.

Let all of his complexion choose me so.

Let everyone who looks like him choose so.

[Exeunt]