Enter the Prince of Morocco, a tawny Moor all in
white, and three or four followers accordingly, with
Portia, Nerissa, and their train. MOROCCO
Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadowed livery of the burnished sun,
To whom I am a neighbor and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus’ fire scarce thaws the icicles, 5
And let us make incision for your love
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine
Hath feared the valiant; by my love I swear
The best regarded virgins of our clime 10
Have loved it too. I would not change this hue
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. PORTIA
In terms of choice I am not solely led
By nice direction of a maiden’s eyes;
Besides, the lott’ry of my destiny 15
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing.
But if my father had not scanted me
And hedged me by his wit to yield myself
His wife who wins me by that means I told you,
Yourself, renownèd prince, then stood as fair 20
As any comer I have looked on yet
For my affection. MOROCCO Even for that I thank you.
Therefore I pray you lead me to the caskets
To try my fortune. By this scimitar 25
That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince,
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
I would o’erstare the sternest eyes that look,
Outbrave the heart most daring on the Earth,
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, 30
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while!
If Hercules and Lychas play at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand; 35
So is Alcides beaten by his page,
And so may I, blind Fortune leading me,
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving. PORTIA You must take your chance 40
And either not attempt to choose at all
Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong
Never to speak to lady afterward
In way of marriage. Therefore be advised. MOROCCO
Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. 45 PORTIA
First, forward to the temple. After dinner
Your hazard shall be made. MOROCCO Good fortune then,
To make me blest—or cursed’st among men! They exit. | Portia is chatting with the Prince of Morocco. He says that though his skin is darker, his blood is as red and his love as true as any pale northern guy. Still, the Prince he would change his skin color to gain Portia's love. Portia says who she marries isn't up to her, but hey, as far as she's concerned, the Prince is just as good as any of her other suitors (which isn't exactly a compliment given how she feels about them). The Prince says he's very fierce, and lists off all the things he's killed. That's great, but rules are rules, and he can only win Portia through chance. Portia reveals that in addition to setting up this crazy lottery, her father has also placed a condition on anyone who chooses to try their luck. If a suitor decides to play the lottery of chests and chooses the wrong one, not only does he lose a chance at Portia, he must never talk of marriage to another woman again. The Prince doesn't care. He insists on playing the lottery anyway. Portia says fine, but first let's get dinner. |