Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.
And well said too: for who shall go about
To cozen fortune, and be honorable
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 honor
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 honor! and how much honor
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,
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?