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How much low peasantry would then be glean ' d From the true seed of honour; and how much honour 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 for this, 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. 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.