hold enshrined the image of his love. He opened and found a skull whose empty eye-socket contained a paper with these verses:—
“All that glistens is not gold;
Often have you heard that told:
Many a man his life hath sold
But my outside to behold:
Gilded tombs do worms infold.
Had you been as wise as bold,
Young in limbs, in judgment old,
Your answer had not been inscrolled:
Fare you well; your suit is cold.”
The second suitor was a prince of Arragon, a pompous Spaniard. He read aloud the inscription, “Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;” and vainly imagining that his deserts were no less than the hand of Portia, he had chosen the silver casket. Within he found the picture of a blinking idiot, and these lines:—
“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,
Silvered o’er, and so was this.
Take what wife you will to bed,
I will ever be your head;
So begone, sir you are sped.”
These disappointed suitors, with their retinues, Bassanio met issuing from the palace gates as he applied for entrance. He gained fair Por-
