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I would out ftare the sterneft eyes that look,
Out-brave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young fucking cubs from the fhe-bear,
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey,
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while!
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice
Which is the better man, the greater throw
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand;
So is Alcides beaten by his page; (5)
And fo may I, blind fortune leading me,
Mifs that, which one unworthier may attain;
And die with grieving. ·

Por. You must take your chance,

And either not attempt to chufe at all,

Or fwear, before you chufe, if you chufe wrong,

Never to speak to lady afterward

In way of marriage; therefore, be advis'd.

Mor. Nor will not; therefore, bring me to my chance.

Por. First, forward to the temple; after dinner

Your hazard fhall be made.

Mor. Good fortune then,

To make me bleft, or curfed'ft among men !

[Cornets. [Exeunt,

(5) S is Alcides beaten by his Rage.] Though the whole Set of Editions concur in this Reading, and it país'd wholly unfufpected by the late learned Editor; I am very well affured, and, I dare fay, the Readers will be fo too prefently, that it is corrupt at Bottom. Let us look into the Poet's Drift, and the Hiftory of the Perfons mentioned in the Context. If Hercules (fays he) and Lichas were to play at Dice for the Decifion of their Superiority, Lichas the weaker Man, might have the better caft of the Two. But how then is Alcides beaten by his rage? The Poet means no more, than, if Lichas had the better Throw, fo might Hercules himfelf be beaten by Iichas. And who was He, but a poor unfortunate Servant of Hercules, that unknowingly brought his Mafter the envenomed Shirt, dipt in the blood of the Centaur Neffus, and was thrown headlong into the Sea for his pains? This one Circumftance of Lichas's Quality known, fufficiently afcertains the Emendation, I have fubftituted of page instead of rage. It is fcarce requifite to hint here, it is a Point fo well known, that Page has been always ufed in English to fignify any Boy-Servant: as well as what latter Times have appropriated it to, a Lady's Trainbearer.

E 5

SCENE

Laun.

SCENE changes to Venice.

CE

Enter Launcelot alone.

Ertainly, my confcience will ferve me to run from this Few my mafter. The fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, faying to me, Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, ufe your legs, take the ftart, run away. My confcience fays, no; take heed, honest Launcelot; take heed, honeft Gobbo; or, as aforesaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo, do not run ; fcorn running with thy heels. Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack; via! fays the fiend; away! fays the fiend; for the heav'ns roufe up a brave mind, fays the fiend; and run. Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, fays very wifely to me, my honeft friend Launcelot, being an honeft man's fon, or rather an honeft woman's fon (for, indeed, my father did fomething fmack, fomething grow to; he had a kind of tatte.) well, my conicience fays, budge not; budge, fays the fiend; budge not, fays my conscience; confcience, fay I, you counfel ill; fiend, fay I, you counsel ill. To be rul'd by my confcience, I thould stay with the few my mafter, who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil; and to run away from the Jew, I fhould be ruled by the fiend, who, faving your reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly, the Jew is the very devil incarnal; and in my confcience, my confcience is but a kind of hard confcience, to offer to counfel me to ftay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counfel; I will run, fiend, my heels are at your commandment, I will run.

Enter old Gobbo, with a basket.

Gob. Mafter young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to maßler Jew's t

Laun. O heav'ns, this is my true-begotten father, who being more than fand-blind, high gravel-blind, knows me not; I will try confufions with him.

Gob.

Gob., Mafter young Gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to mafter Jew's?

Laun. Turn up, on your right-hand at the next turning, but, at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at the very next turning turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's house.

Gob. By God's fonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit ; can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?

Laun. Talk you of young master Launcelot ? (mark me now, now will I raise the waters;) talk you of young mafter Launcelot ?

Gob. No master, Sir, but a poor man's fon. His father, though I fay't, is an honeft exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live.

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

Geb. Your worship's friend and Launcelot, Sir.

Laun. But, I pray you ergo, old man: ergo, I befeeck you, talk of you young malter Launcelot ?

Gob. Of Launcelot, an't pleafe your mattership.

Laun. Ergo, matter Launcelot ? talk not of mater Launcelt, father, for the young gentleman (according to fates and destinies, and foch odd fayings, the fifters three, and fuch branches of learning,) is, indeed, decealed; or, as you would fay, in plain terms, gone to heav'n

Geb. Marry, God forbid the boy was the very ftaff of my age, my very prop.

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

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

Laun. Do you not know me, father ?

Gob. Alack, Sir, I am fand blind, I know you not. Loun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fal of the knowing me: it is a wife father, that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your fon; give me your bleffing, truth will come to

light; murder cannot be hid long, a man's fon may ; but, in the end, truth will cut.

Gob. Pray you, Sir, Rand up; I am fure, you are not Launcelot my bey.

Lawn Pray you, let's it, but give me your boy, that was, your fen be.

have no more fooling about ting; I am Launcelot, your hat is, your child that shall

Gob. I cannot think, you are my fon.

Lain. I know not, what I fhau thik of that: but I am Launcelot the Jew's man, and, i am fure, Margery your wife is my mother.

Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed. I'll be fworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art my own flesh and blood : Lord wordip'd might he be! what a beard haft thou got: thou haft got more hair on thy chin, than Debbin my Thill-horfe has on his tail.

Laun. It fhould feem then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward; I am fure, he had more hair on his tail, than I have on my face, when I laft faw him.

Gob. Lord, how art thou chang'd! how doft thou and thy mafter agree? I have brought him a prefent; how agree you now ?

Laun. Well, well; but for mine own part, as I have fet up my reft to run away, fo I will not reft 'till I have run fome ground. My mafter's a very few give him a prefent! give him a halter: I am famith'd in his fervice. You may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come; give me your prefent to one mafter Baffanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries; if I ferve him not, I will run as far as God has any ground. O rare fortune, here comes the man; to him, father, for I am a few, if I ferve the Jew any longer.

per

Enter Ballanio with Leonardo, and a follower or

tico more.

Baff. You may do fo; but let it he fo hafted, that fupbe ready at the fartheft by five of the clock: fee thefe

letters

letters deliver'd, put the liveries to making, and defire Gratians to come anon to my lodgings.

Laun. To him, father.

Gob. God bless your worship!

Baff. Gramercy, would't thou aught with me?
Gob. Here's my fon, Sir, a poor boy,

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

Gob. He hath a great infection, Sir, as one would fay, to serve.

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

Gob. His master and he, faving your worship's reverence, are scarce catercoufins.

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

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

Laun. In very brief, the fuit is impertinent to myfelf, as your worship fhall know by this honeft old man ; and, though I fay it, though old man, yet poor man

my

father.

Baff. One fpeak for both, what would you?

Laun. Serve you, Sir.

Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, Sir.

Baff. I know thee well, thou haft obtain'd thy fuit; Shylock, thy mafter, fpoke with me this day,

And hath preferr'd thee; if it be preferment
To leave a rich Jew's fervice, to become
The follower of fo poor a gentleman.

my

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between mafier Shylock, and you, Sir; you have the

God, Sir, and he hath enough.

grace of

Baff. Thou fpeak'ft it well; go, father, with thy fon: Take leave of thy old mafter, and enquire

My lodging out; give him a livery,

More guarded than his fellows: fee it done.

Laun. Father, in; I cannot get a fervice, no? I have ne'er a tongue in my head? well, if any man in Italy

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