When a suitor presents himself and asks for the lady’s hand in marriage, he is shown three caskets, one of gold, one of silver, and one of lead.  Upon the golden one is written the words, “Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire”; upon the silver casket are the words, “Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves”; and upon the leaden one, “Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath.”  And only whoso chooseth aright, each suitor is told, can win the lady.

This trial of all suitors had been ordered by Portia’s father ere he died, so that only a worthy and true man might win his daughter.  Some suitors choose the gold, some the silver casket, but all, princes, barons, counts, and dukes, alike choose wrong.

At length Bassanio comes.  Already he loves Portia and she loves him.  There is no need of any trail of the caskets.  Yet it must be.  Her father’s will must be obeyed.  But what if he choose wrong.  That is Portia’s fear.

“I pray you, tarry; pause a day or two
Before you hazard; for, in choosing wrong,
I lose your company,”

she says.

But Bassanio cannot wait:—­

            “Let me choose;
    For, as I am, I live upon the rack.”

And so he stands before the caskets, longing to make a choice, yet fearful.  The gold he rejects, the silver too, and lays his hand upon the leaden casket.  He opens it.  Oh, joy! within is a portrait of his lady.  He has chosen aright. yet he can scarce believe his happiness.

“I am,” he says,

    “Like one of two contending in a prize,
    That thinks he hath done well in people’s eyes,
    Hearing applause, and universal shout,
    Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt
    Whether those pearls of praise be his or no;
    So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so;
    As doubtful whether what I see be true,
    Until confirm’d, sign’d, ratifi’d by you.”

And Portia, happy, triumphant, humble, no longer the great lady with untold wealth, with lands and palaces and radiant beauty, but merely a woman who has given her love, answers:—­

    “You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand,
    Such as I am:  though, for myself alone,
    I would not be ambitious in my wish,
    To wish myself much better; yet, for you,
    I would be trebled twenty times myself;
    A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times
    More rich;
    That only to stand high on your account,
    I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends,
    Exceed account:  but the full sum of me
    Is sum of something:  which, to term in gross,
    Is an unlesson’d girl, unschool’d, unpractis’d,
    Happy in this, she is not yet so old
    But she may learn; happier than this,
    She is not bred so dull but she can learn;
    Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit
    Commite itself to yours to