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How like a younger or a prodigall,
The skarfed Barke pues from her natiuc bay,
Hugd and embraced by the strumpet winde,
How like the prodigall doch she recurue
With ouer-wetherd ribs and ragged sayles,
Lcane,rent,and beggerd by the Atrumpet wind?

Enter Lorenzo.
Sal.Here comes Lorenzo,more of this hereafter.
Lo.Sweet friends,your patience for my long abode
Nor 1,but my affaires haue made you waite :
When you thal please to play the theeues for wiues
Ile watch as long for you then : approch,
Herc dwels my father lew. Ho, whose within.

leffica abone.
If. Who are you? tell me for more certainty,
Albeit Ile swcare that I do know your tongue.

Lor. Lorenzo and thy loue.

les. Lorenzo certaine,and my loue indeed,
For who louc I so much and now who knowes
But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Lo.Hcauen & thy thoghts are witnes that thou art
Ter.Here,catch this Casket, tis worth the paines,
I am glad tis night you do not looke on me,
For I am much asham'd of my exchange:
But loue is blinde, and louers cannot sce
The precry follies that themselues commit,
For if they could,Cupid himselfe would blush
To seeine thus transformed to a boy.

Lor.Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.

ler.What,mult I hold a Candle to my shames,
They in themselues goodlooth are too oo light.
Why tis an office of discouery, Louc,
And I should be abfcur'd.

Lor. So are you sweete,
Euen in the louely garnish of a boy,
But comc at once, for the close night

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Doth play the run-away,
And we are staid for at Bafanios feast.

Ief.I will make falt the doores, and guild sny felfe
With some mo ducats,and be with you Atraight.

Grai. Now by my hood, a Gentile and no lcw.

Ler.Belhrew one but I loue her hartily,
For she is wise, if I can judge of her,
And faire she is if that mine cyes be truc,
And true lhe is, as she hath proo'ud herselfe,
And therefore like herselfe, wise, faire and true,
Shall she be placed in my conftant soule.

Enter leffica.
What,art thou comc? on gentlemen,away,
Our masking maces by this time for vs Ray. Exi.

Enter Anibonio.
Ant.Who's there?
Gra.Signior Antborio,

Ant.Fic, fic Gratiano, where are all the reft?
Tis nine a clocke,our friends all Aay for you,
No maske to night,che winde is comc about,
Bassanio presently will goe aboard,
I am glad on't, I desire no more delight
Then to be under saylc,& gone to night.

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Enter Portia with Morrocbo, and borb their traines,

Por. Goe; draw aside the Curtaines, and discouer
The scuerall Caskets to this noble Prince :
Now make your choice.

Mor. The first of gold, who this inscription beares,
Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men

The second filuer, which this promise carries,
Who chooseth me, hall get as much as he deserucs..
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
Who chooseth me,must giuc and hazard all he hath..
How Shall I know if I do choose the right?

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gone to heauen.

Master Launcelet.

Gob. Your worships friend, and Lancelet fir.

Lan. But I pray you ergo olde inan, ergo I beseech you, talke you of yong M.Lanceler.

Gob, Of Lancelet an't please your mastership.

Lan. Ergo master Lancelet, calke not of inaister Lancelet Father; for the yong Gentleman according to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the tisters three, and such braunches of learning, is indeed deceased, or as you would say in plain terms,

Gob. Marry God forbid, the boy was the veric Aaffe of my age, my very prop.

Lance. Dollooke like a cudgellor a houell poste, a Staffe, or a prop:

do you knowine Father. Gob. Alacke the day, I know you not yong Gentleman, but I pray you tell mee, is my boy (G OD reft his soule)aliue or dead.

Lance. Do you not know me Father?
Gob. Alacke fir, I am sand blinde, I know you not.

Lan. Nay, in deede if you had your eyes you might faile of the knowing me: it is a wise Father that knowes his own child, Well, olde inan, I will tell you newes of your sonne, giue inee your blessing; Trucch will come to light, Murther cannot be hidde long, a mans sonnc may, but at the length trueth will

Gobbo. Pray you sir stand up, I am sure you are not Launcelet

Lance. Pray you let's haue no more fooling about it, buc giue me your blessing; I am Lancelot your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.

Gob. I cannot thinke you are my sonnc.

Lance. I know not what I shall thinke of that, but I am Lama celet the lews man, and I am sure Margery, your wifc is my mother.

Gob. Her name is Margery indeede, ile be sworne if thou bec Lancelet, thou art minc ownc felh and blood: Lord worshipe


my boy.

might he be, what a beard haft thou got? thou hast got more haire on thy chin,then Dobbin my pilhorse has on his tale.

Lan. It should seeme then that Dobbins taile growes backward. I am sure he had more haire of his tayle then I haue of my face, when I lait saw him.

Gob. Lord how art thou chang’d: how doelt chou and thy Mafter agrec? I haue brought him apresent; how agree you now?

Lance. Well, well, but for mine owne parejas I haue [et vp my rest to runne away, so I will not rett till I have run fome ground; My master's a very lew, giue him a present, głuc him a halter, I am famishçin his service. You may tell cuery finger I haue with my

ribs : Father I am glad you are comc, giue me your present to one Master Baffanio, who indeed giues rare new liueries, if I serue not him, I will runne as farre as God has any ground. O sare fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a lew if I ferue the lew any longer:

Enter Bassanio with a follower or two. Bas. You may do so, but let it be so hafted that supper be ready at the farthest by fiue of the clocke: scc these Letters deliuered, put the Lyueries to making and defire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

Exit one of bis men.
Lance. To him Father.
Gob.God blesse your Worship.
Bal. Gramercy,wouldst thou ought with ne?
Gob. Here's my sonne sirga poore boy.

Lance. Not a poore boy fir,but the rich lewes man that wold. fir,as my father shall specific.

Gob. He hath a great infection fır, as one would say to ferue.

Lance. Indeed the short and the long is, I serue the lew, and haue a defire as my Father shall specific.

Gob.His Master and he(saving your worships reuerence) arc. scarle catercofins..


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Lan. To be briefe, the very cruth is, that the lew having don me wrong, doth cause me as my Father, being I hope, an olde man, shall frucific vnto you.

Gob. I hauc hccre a dish of Doues that I would bestow vpon your worship: and my fuce is

Lan. In very briefe, the suce is impertinent to my felfe, as
your worship Thal know by this honeft old man, and though I
say it, though old man,yei poore man my father.

Ball. One speake for both, what would you?
Lan. Seruc you fir.
Gob. That is the veric defect of the matter fir.

Baff. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suce,
Shylocke thy master spoke with me this day,
And hath preferr’d thee, if it be preferinent
To Icaue a rich lewes seruice, to become
The follower of fo poore a Gentleman.

Lan. The old Prouerbe is very well parted between my ma-
fter Shylock and you fir, You haue the grace of God fir, and hee
hath enough.

Bas. Thou speak ft ic well. Go Father with thy fonne,
Take leaue of thy old master, and enquire
My Lodging out. Giuc him a Liuery
More garded then his fellowes, see it done.

Lan, Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I ha nere a congue
in my head. Well, if any man in Italy haue a fairer table which
doth offer coswcare vppon a booke, I shall hauc good fortune..
Go too, heere's a fimple line of life, here's a smal trifle of wiucs:
Alas, fiftcene wiues is nothing, eleuen VViddowes and nine
maids, is a simple comming in for one man, and then to escape
drowning thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge of
a feather-bed, heere are fimple scapes : well,

if Fortune bec a
woman, shce's a good wench for this geere. Father, come, ile
take my lcaue of the lew in the twinkling of an eye.

Exit Clowne:
Bal. I pray thee good Leonardo chinke on this,
These things being bought, and orderly bcftow'd,


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