| MOROCCO | |
Mislike me not for my complexion, | |
| | The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, | |
| | To whom I am a neighbour 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 fear'd 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 lottery 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, renowned prince, then stood as fair | 20 |
| | As any comer I have look'd 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 | |
| | That slew the Sophy and a Persian prince | 25 |
| | That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, | |
| | I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, | |
| | Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, | |
| | Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, | |
| | Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, | 30 |
| | To win thee, lady. But, alas the while! | |
| | If Hercules and Lichas play at dice | |
| | Which is the better man, the greater throw | |
| | May turn by fortune from the weaker hand: | |
| | So is Alcides beaten by his page; | 35 |
| | And so may I, blind fortune leading me, | |
| | Miss that which one unworthier may attain, | |
| | And die with grieving. | |