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How like a younger or a prodigall,
Lor. Lorenzo and thy loue.
les. Lorenzo certaine,and my loue indeed,
Lor.Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer.
ler.What,mult I hold a Candle to my shames,
Lor. So are you sweete,
Doth play the run-away,
Ief.I will make falt the doores, and guild sny felfe
Grai. Now by my hood, a Gentile and no lcw.
Ler.Belhrew one but I loue her hartily,
Ant.Fic, fic Gratiano, where are all the reft?
Enter Portia with Morrocbo, and borb their traines,
Por. Goe; draw aside the Curtaines, and discouer
Mor. The first of gold, who this inscription beares,
gone to heauen.
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?
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
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. 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..
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
Ball. One speake for both, what would you?
Baff. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suce,
Lan. The old Prouerbe is very well parted between my ma-
Bas. Thou speak ft ic well. Go Father with thy fonne,
Lan, Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I ha nere a congue
if Fortune bec a