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Laun. Well, let his father be what he will, we talk of young Master Launcelot.

Gob. Your Worship’s friend and Launcelot, Sir.

Laun. But I pray you ergo, old man; ergo, I befeech you, talk you of young Mafter Launcelot?

Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your Mastership.

Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot; talk not of Master Launcelot, father, for the young gentleman (according to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the fifters three, and such branches of learning) is indeed deceased; or, as you would say, in plain terms, gone to heav'n. Gob. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very

staff of my age, my very prop.

Laun. Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovel-post, a ftaff or a prop? Do you


father? Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman; but I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God reft his Soul, alive or dead?

Laun. Do you not know me, father?
Gob. Alack, Sir, I am fand-blind, I know you not.

Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son; give me your blefling, truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long, a man's son may; but in the end, truth will out.

Gob. Pray you, Sir, stand up; I am sure you are not Launcelot my boy.

Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing; I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.

Gob. I cannot think you are my son.

Laun. I know not what I shall think of that: but I am Launcelot the Jew's man, and, I am sure, Margery your wife is my

mother. Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed. I'll be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art my own flesh and blood: Lord worshipp'd might he be! what a beard halt thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin my thill-horse has on his tail.

Laun. It should feem then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward; I am sure, he had more hair on his tail, than I have on my face, when I last saw him.

Gob. Lord, how art thou chang'd! how do it thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present; how agree you now?

Laun. Well, well. But for mine own part, as I have set

up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run fome ground. My master's a very Jew: give him a present! give him a halter: I am familh'd in his service. You may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come; give me your present to one Master Bassanio, who indeed gives rare new liveries; if I serve him not, I will run as far as God has any ground. O rare fortune, here comes tlie man; to him, father, for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. Enter Bassanio with Leonardo, and a follower or two more.

Bal. You may do so; but let it be so hasted, that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock: see these letters deliver'd, put the liveries to making, and defire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

Luun. To him, father.
Gob. God bless your Worship!
Baff. Gramercy, wouldlt thou aught with me?
Gob. Here's my son, Sir, a poor boy,--

Laun. Not a poor boy, Sir, but the rich Jew's man, that would, Sir, as my father shall specify,

Gob. He hath a great infection, Sir, as say, to serve.

Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, .I ferve the Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify,

Gob. His master and he, saving your Worship’s reve. rence, are scarce catercousins.

Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew, having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being I hope an old man, shall frutify unto you,

Gob. I have here a dish of doves, that I would bestow upon your Worship; and my suit is

Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as your Worship shall know by this honest old man?

H 3


one would

and, though I say it, though old man, yet poor man

my father.

Baf. One speak for both, what would you?
Laun. Serve you, Sir.
Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, Sir.

Baf. I know thee well, thou haft obtain'd thy suit;
Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day,
And hath preferr'd thee; if it be preferment
To leave a rich Jew's service to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, dir; you have the grace

of God, Sir, and he hath enough.

Ball. Thou speakill it well; go, father, with thy son: Take leave of thy old master, and inquire My lodging out; give him a livery, More guarded than his fellows: fee it done.

Laun. Father, in; I cannot get a service, no? I have ne'er a tongue in my head? well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table *, which doth ****** to swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune; go to, here's a simple line of life; here's a small trifle of wives. Alas, fifteen wives is nothing, eleven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man! and then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed, here are simple 'scapes ! well, if fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this geer. Father, come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye.

[Exeunt Laun, and Gob. Ball. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this. These things being bought and orderly bestowed, Return in haite, for I do fealt to-night My best-esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go.

Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein.

+ offer

SCENE NII. Enter Gratiano. Gra. Where is your

master? Leon. Yonder, Sir, he walks. [Exit Leonardo.

Looking on his own hand. # The chasm may be thus supplied, doth [promife good luck I am philaten. I curit alo:ok] offer, &c.

Gra. Signior Bassanio,
Baf. Gratiano!
Gra. I have a suit to you.
Bas. You have obtain’d it.

Gra. You must not deny me; I must go with you to Belmont,

Ba]. Why, then you must: but hear thee, Gratiano,
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice;
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults:
But where thou art not known, why, there they shew
Something too liberal: pray thee, take pain
T'allay with some cold drops of modelly
Thy skipping fpirit; left, through thy wild behaviour,
I be misconstru'd in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.
Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear

If I do not put on a sober habit,
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely
Nay more, while grace is taying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat. and figh, and say, Amen;
Use all th’ obfervance of civility,
Like one well studied in a sad ottent
To please his grandam; never trust me more.

Bas. Well, we shall see your bearing.

Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night, you shall not gage me By what we do to-night.

Baj. No, that were pity,
I would intreat you rather to put on
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment: but fare
I have some business.

Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the reft:
But we will visit you at fupper-time.

[Exeunt. SCENE IV. Changes to Shylock's house.

Enter Jefica and Launcelot.
Jef. I'm sorry thou wilt leave my father fo;
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
Didlt rob it of some taste of tediousness;

you well,



But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee.
And, Launcelot, soon at fupper shalt thou fee
Lorenzo, who is thy new mafter's guest,
Give him this leiter; do it fecretly,
And so farewell: I would not have father
See me talk with thee.

Laun. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue ; most beautiful Pagan, most sweet Jew! if a Christian do not play. the knave and get thee, I am much deceiv'd. But, adieu! these foolish drops do fomewhat drown my manly spirit : adieu !

ref. Farewell, good Launcelot. Alack, what heinous sin is it in me, To be asam’d to be my father's child? But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo, If thou keep promiss, I shall end this strife, Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. [Exit.

SCENE V. The streef.
Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salaring, and Salanio.
Lor. Nay, we will dink away in supper-time, disguise
us at my lodging, and return all in an hour.

Gra. We have not made good preparation.
Sal. We have not spoke as yet of torch-bearers.

Sala. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly ordered,
And better in my mind not undertook.

Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock, we have two hours To furnish us. Friend Launcelot, what's the news?

Enter Launcel, with a letier. Laun. An it shall pleafe you to break up this, it shall seem to fignify.

Lor. I know the hand; in faith, 'tis a fair hand;
And whiter than the paper it writ on,
Is the fair hand that writ.

Gra. Love-news, in faith.
Laun. By your leave, Sir.
Lor. Whither goeft thou?

Laui. Mairy, Sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my new matter the Christian.


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