The caskets were duly set out in order, and the Prince of Morocco was to make his choice. The first, of gold, bore this inscription:
“Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.”
The second, of silver, carried this promise:
“Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves.”
The third, dull lead, had this blunt warning:
“Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath.”
Long and carefully the Prince of Morocco pondered, seeking to discover the hidden meaning that lay in each mysterious inscription. But at last his decision was made.
“Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire.”
“Why, that’s the lady,” reflected the Prince. “All the world desires her; they come from the four corners of the earth to behold fair Portia. One of these three caskets contains her picture. Is it likely that lead contains her? That is too base a thought. Or shall I think she is immured in silver, when gold is ten times more valuable? Give me the key. I choose here.”
“There, take it, Prince,” said Portia, “and if my picture is there, then I am yours.”