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Quick, quick, I pray thee; draw the curtain straight: The Prince of Arragon hath ta’en his oath, And comes to his election presently.
Hurry, hurry, please; pull the curtain back: The Prince of Arragon has sworn his oath, And will choose soon.
Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince: If you choose that wherein I am contain’d, Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized: But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, You must be gone from hence immediately.
Look, there are the caskets, noble prince: If you choose the one I’m in, We’ll marry right away: But if you choose wrong, without further talk, my lord, You must leave immediately.
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.
I’ve sworn to observe three things: First, never to tell anyone Which casket I chose; next, if I fail To pick the right one, never again To ask a woman’s hand in marriage: Finally, If I fail in this, I’ll leave you right away.
To these injunctions every one doth swear That comes to hazard for my worthless self.
Everyone who risks this for me swears to these things.
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 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 derived corruptly, and that clear honour Were purchased 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.
And so have I prepared myself. Fortune, now I pray for my heart’s desire! Gold, silver, or base lead. ‘Who chooses me must give and risk everything.’ You’ll look better to me, before I give or risk anything. What’s in the golden casket? Let me see: ‘Who chooses me will get what many men want.’ What many men want! That ‘many’ could mean The foolish crowd who choose by appearance, Not knowing more than the eye can see; Who doesn’t look deeper, but, like a swallow, Builds in the weather on the outer wall, Without care for what’s inside. I won’t choose what many men want, Because I won’t follow the common crowd Or join the unrefined masses. Well then, to you, silver treasure chest; Tell me once more, what does your inscription say? ‘Who chooses me will get what he deserves:’ And that’s right; who would try to trick fortune And still be honored Without the merit to back it up? Let no one dare To wear an honor they don’t deserve. Oh, if only wealth, rank, and power Were not given out corruptly, and true honor Was earned by merit! Then how many who stand bare would be clothed! How many who give orders would be commanded! How many lowly peasants would rise From the true stock of honor! And how much honor Would be stripped from the false and broken systems And restored to its true value! Anyway, back to my choice: ‘Who chooses me will get what he deserves.’ I’ll assume I deserve the best. Give me the key, And let me open my future here.
Too long a pause for that which you find there.
That’s too long to wait for what you’ll find in there.
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?
What’s this? the picture of a fool, Giving me a list of instructions! I’ll read it. How different you are from Portia! How different from my hopes and what I deserve! ’Whoever chooses me will get what they deserve.’ Did I deserve no more than a fool’s head? Is that my prize? are my rewards no better?
To offend, and judge, are distinct offices And of opposed natures.
To offend and to judge are two separate things And are completely different in nature.
What is here?
What’s this?
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.
The fire has tested this seven times: Seven times this judgment has been tested, And it has never been wrong. Some people kiss shadows; They only get the happiness of a shadow: There are fools who still live, I know, Covered in silver; and so was this. Take whichever wife you want to bed, I will always be your master: Now go: you’re done. I’ll only look more foolish The longer I stay here With one fool’s head I came to court you, But I leave with two. Sweet, goodbye. I’ll keep my word, And bear my anger patiently.
Thus hath the candle singed the moth. O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose, They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
So the candle has burned the moth. Oh, these careful fools! when they choose, They use their wisdom to lose it all.
The ancient saying is no heresy, Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
The old saying isn’t a lie, Hanging and marrying are both matters of fate.
Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa.
Where is my lady?
Where is my lady?
Here: what would my lord?
Here: what does my lord want?
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 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.
Madam, there is a young Venetian at your gate Who comes before his master To announce his arrival; He brings with him warm greetings, And, besides compliments and polite words, Gifts of great value. Yet I have not seen A more fitting messenger of love: A day in April never felt so sweet, To show how costly summer was about to be, As this messenger arrives before his master.
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.
No more, I beg you: I’m almost afraid You’ll say he’s somehow related to you, You spend so much effort praising him. Come, come, Nerissa; I’m eager to see Cupid’s messenger who comes so politely.
Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be!
Bassanio, lord of Love, if it’s your will!