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. Take what wife you will to bed, I will ever be your head: So be gone:you are sped. Still more fool I shall appear By the time I linger here With one fool's head I came to woo. But I go away with two. Sweet,adieu.I'll keep my oath, Patiently to bear my wroth. Exeunt Arragon and train PORTIA Thus hath the candle singed the moth. O.these deliberate fools!when they do choose They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. NERISSA The ancient saying is no heresy, Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. PORTIA Come,draw the curtain,Nerissa. Enter a Servant Servant Where is my lady? PORTIA Here:what would my lord? Servant Madam,there is alighted at your gate A young Venetian,one that comes before To signify the approaching of his lord; From whom he bringeth sensible regreets. To wit,besides commends and courteous breath, Gifts of rich value.Yet I have not seen So likely an ambassador of love: A day in April never came so sweet, To show how costly summer was at hand, As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord.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. Take what wife you will to bed, I will ever be your head: So be gone: you are sped. Still more fool I shall appear By the time I linger here With one fool's head I came to woo, But I go away with two. Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath, Patiently to bear my wroth. Exeunt Arragon and train PORTIA Thus hath the candle singed the moth. O, these deliberate fools! when they do choose, They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. NERISSA The ancient saying is no heresy, Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. PORTIA Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. Enter a Servant Servant Where is my lady? PORTIA Here: what would my lord? Servant Madam, there is alighted at your gate A young Venetian, one that comes before To signify the approaching of his lord; From whom he bringeth sensible regreets, To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen So likely an ambassador of love: A day in April never came so sweet, To show how costly summer was at hand, As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord