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 multitude. 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 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? PORTIA. T’ offend, and judge, are distinct offices, And of opposèd 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._ 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. [_Exeunt Arragon and Train._ _Enter Bassanio._ BASSANIO. So may the outward shows be least themselves: The world is still deceived with ornament. In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being season’d with a gracious voice, Obscures the show of evil? * * * * *