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How like a younger or a prodigall,
The skarfed Barke puts from her natiuc bay,
Hugd and embraced by the Arumpet winde,
How like the prodigall doth she recurue
With ouer-wetherd ribs and ragged sayles,
Leane,rent,and beggerd by the ftrumpet 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 shal please to play the thecues for wiues
Ile watch as long for you then : approch,
Herc dwels my father low. Ho, whose within:

lesfica abone.
Il. Who are you? tell me for more certainty,
Albeit lle fwcare that I do know your tongue.

Lor. Lorenzo and thy loue.

lef. 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
Tel. 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 sec
The pretty follies that themselues commit,
For if they could, Cupid himselfe would blush
To see ine thus transformed to a boy.

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

Tel.What,mult I hold a Candle to my shames,
They in themselues goodlooth are too too light.
Why tis an office of discouery, Loue,
And I should be obscurid.

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

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Doth play the run-away,
And we are ftaid for at Baffanias feast.
les.I will make fast the doorcs, and guilding felfe

Selle
With some mo ducats, and be with you Atraight.

Grar. Now by my hood, a Gentile and no lew.

Lor.Beshrew ine but I loue her hartily,
For she is wise, if I can judge of her,
And faire she is,if that minc.cyes be true,
And true lhe is, as the hath proo'ud herselfe,
And therefore like herselfe,wise, faire and true,
Shall the 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 Antbonio,
Ant. Who's there?
Gra.Signior Antborio.

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

Exmont.

Enter Portia with Morrocbo, and bosh their traies,

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, tall gaine what many men defire.
The fecond fluer, which this promise carries,
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserues.
This third, dulllead, 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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Por,

gone to heauen.

Master Lanncelet.

Gob. Your worships friend, and Lancelet fir.

Lar. But I pray you ergo oldcinan, ergo I beseech you, calke you of yong N. Lancelet.

Gob, Of Lancelet an't please your mastership.

Lan. Ergo master Lancelet, talke not of inailter Lancelet Father; for the yong Gentleman according to faces and destinies, and such odd sayings, the tisters thrce, and such braunches of learning, is indeed deceased, or as you would lay in plain terms,

Gob. Marry God forbid, the boy was the veric staffe 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, buc I pray you tell mee, is my boy (GOD 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 decde 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, giuc ince your blessing; Truech will come to light, Murther cannot be hidde long, a mans sonne may, but at the length trueth will

out.

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

my boy.

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

Gob. I cannot thinke you are my sonne.

Lance. I know not what I shall thinke of that, but I am Lara celet the lewsman, and I am sure Margery, your wife is my mocher.

Gob. Her name is Margery indeede, ile bie sworne if thou bec Loncelet, thou art minc owncflesh and blood: Lord worship

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, le 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 last saw him.

Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how does shou and thy Mafter agrec? I haue brought him apresent; how agree you now:

Lance. Well, well, but for mine owne part as I haue set up my reft to runne away, so I will not reft till I have run fome ground; My master's a very lew, giue him a present,g uc bim a halter, I am famisht in his seruice. You may cell cuery finger I haue with my ribs : Father I am glad you are come, giue me your present to one Master Bassanio, who indeed giues rare new liueries, if I serue not him, I will runne as farre as God has any ground. o rare fortune, here comes the man, to him Father, for I am a lew if I serue the lew any longer:

Enter Bassanio with a follower or two. Baff. You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that supper be ready at the farthest by fiuc of the clocke: see these Letters deliuered, puc the Lyucries to making, and defire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging

Exit one of his men.
Lance. To him Father.
Gob.God blesse your Worship.
Baff. Gramercy,wouldst thou ought with nie?'
G0.Here's my sonne fir,a poore boy.

Lance.Not a poore boy fir, but the rich Iewes man that wold. fir,as my father shall specific. Gob.He hath a great infection fir, as one would say to serue.

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

Gob.His Master and he(fauing your worships reuerence) are. scarle catercofinsa.

Lar..

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

Gob.l haue hecre a dish of Doues that I would bestow vpon your worship: andıny suce is

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

Baf. One speake for both, what would you?
Lar. Serue you fir.
Gob. That is the veric defect of the matter fir.

Bas. I know thee well, thou hast obrain'd thy fuce,
Shylocke thy master spoke with me this day,
And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferinenc
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 speakst ic well. Go Father with thy sonne,
Take lcaue ofthy 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 tongue
in my head. Well, if any man in Italy haue

a fairer cable which
doth offer to swcare vppon a booke, I shall haue good fortune..
Go too, heere's a fimple line of life, here's a smal trifle of wiucs:
Alas, fiftcenc wiues is nothing, elçuen VViddowes and nine
maids, is á fimple comming in for one man, and then to escape
drowning thrice, and to be in perill of my life with the edge of
å feather-bed, heere are fimple scapes: well, if fortune bec a
woman, shee's a good wench for this gecre. Father, come, ile
take my leauc of the lew in the ewinkling of an eye.

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

Returne

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