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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 ?

Geb. No mafter, 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 master Launcelot.

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

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

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

Laun. Ergo, mafter Launcelot; talk not of master Launcelot, father, for the young gentleman (according to fates and deftinies, and fuch odd fayings, the fifters three, and fuch branches of learning,) is, indeed, deceafed; or, as you would fay, in plain terms, gone to heav'n.

Gob. 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, a ftaff or a prop do you know me, father?

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

Laun. Do you not know me, father?

Gab. 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 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 out.

Gob. Pray you, Sir, ftand up; I am fure, you are not Launcelot my boy.

Laun

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Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your bleffing; I am Launcelot, your boy, that was, your fon that is, your child that shall be. Gob. I cannot think, you are my

fon.

Laun. I know not, what I fhall think of that: but I am Launcelot the Jew's man, and, I am fure, Mar- · gery 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 worship'd might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou haft got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin my Thill-horse has on his tail (10).

Laun. It fhould feem then, that Dobbin's tail grows backwark; I am fure, 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 doft thou and thy mafter agree? I have brought him a prefent; how agree you now?

Laun. Well, well, but for my 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 famish'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 Bassanio, 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 Jew, if I ferve the Jew any longer.

Enter Baffanio with Leonardo, and a follower or

two more.

Baff. You may do fo; but let it be fo hafted, that fupper be ready at the fartheft by five of the clock: fee thefe letters deliver'd, put the liveries to making, and defire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

Laun. To him, father.

(10) than Dobbin my Thill-borfe] Some of the editions have it Phill, others Fill-horse; both, erroneously. It must be thill-horse; i. c. the horfe, which draws in the Shafts, or Tbill, of the carriage.

Gob.

Gob. God bless your worship!

Baff. Gramercy, would't thou ought 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 mafter and he, faving your worship's reverence, are scarce cater-coufins.

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. Ball. 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 spoke 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.

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my mafter Shylock and you, Sir; you have the grace of God, Sir, and he hath enough.

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 have (11) a fairer table, which doth offer to fwear upon

a

(11) Well, if any man in Italy have &c.] This ftubborn piece of nonfenfe feems to have taken its rife from this accident. In tranfcrib,

a book, I shall have good fortune; go to, here's a fimple.
line of life; here's a small trifle of wives; alas, fifteen
wives is nothing, eleven widows, and nine maids is a
fimple coming in for one man! and then to fcape drown-
ing thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge
of a feather bed, here are fimple 'fcapes! well, if for-
tune be a woman, fhe's a good wench for this geer.
Father, come; I'll take my leave of the few in the
twinkling of an eye.
[Ex. Laun. and Gob.

Baff. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this.
These things being bought and orderly bestowed,
Return in hafte, for I do feaft to-night
My best esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go.
Leon. My best endeavours fhall be done herein.
Enter Gratiano.

Gra. Where is your mafter?

Leon. Yonder, Sir, he walks.

Gra. Signior Bassanio!

Baff. Gratiano!

Gra. I have a fuit to you.

Baff. You have obtain❜d it.

[Ex. Leonardo

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

Baff. 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 fuch 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 fome cold drops of modefty

1

Thy skipping fpirit; left, through thy wild behaviour,

ing the play for the prefs, there was certainly a Fine loft; fo that the paffage for the future fhould be printed thus;

*

Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table, which * * * *offer to fwear upon a book, 1 fhall have good fortune. "Tis impoffible to find out the loft line, but the loft fenfe is easy enough; as thus,

Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table, rubicb doth [promife good luck, I am mistaken, I durft almoft] offer to fwear upon a book, I hall have good fortune. Mr. Warburton.

I be mifconftru'd in the place I go to,
And lofe my hopes.

Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me.
If I do not put on a fober habit,

Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pockets, look demurely;
Nay more, while grace is faying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and figh and fay, Amen;
Ufe all the obfervance of civility,

Like one well ftudied in a fad oftent

To please his grandam; never truft me more.
Baff. Well, we fhall fee your bearing.

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

Ba. No, that were pity.

I would entreat you rather to put on

Your boldest fuit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment: but fare you well,

I have fome business.

Gra. And I muft to Lorenzo and the rest: But we will vifit you at fupper-time.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Shylock's house.

Enter Jeffica and Launcelot.

Jef. T'M forry, thou wilt leave my father fo;

I'M

Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, Didst rob it of some taste of tedioufness;

But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee.
And Launcelot, foon at fupper fhalt thou fee
Lorenzo, who is thy new mafter's gueft;
Give him this letter, do it fecretly,

And fo farewel: I would not have my father
See me talk with thee.

Laun. Adieu; tears exhibit my tongue; moft beautiful Pagan, moft fweet Jew! if a chriftian did not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceiv'd; but adicu! thefe foolish drops do fomewhat drown my manly fpirit: adieu!

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