[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?
PORTIA.
To offend and judge are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures.
ARRAGON.
What is here?
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.
[Exit Arragon with his train.]
PORTIA.
Thus hath the candle sing’d the moth.
O, these deliberate fools! When they do choose,
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose.
NERISSA.
The ancient saying is no heresy:
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.