SCENE IV.--SALOON OF THE CASKETS IN PORTIA'S HOUSE, AT BELMONT.


_Flourish of Cornets. Enter the_ PRINCE OF MOROCCO, _and his Train_;
PORTIA, NERISSA, _and other of her Attendants_.

_Mor_. Mislike me not for my complexion,
The shadow'd livery of the burning sun,
To whom I am a neighbour, and near bred.
Bring me the fairest creature northward born,
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles,
And let us make incision for your love,
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine.[40]
By love, I swear, I would not change this hue,
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen.
I'll try my fortune;
E'en though I may (blind fortune leading me)
Miss that which one unworthier may attain,
And die with grieving.

_Por_. You must take your chance;
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 advis'd.[41]

_Mor_. Nor will not; come, bring me unto my chance.
How shall I know if I do choose the right?

_Por_. The one of them contains my picture, prince;