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heels. Well, the most courageous fiend bids mé pack ; Via! says the fiend; Away! fays the fiend; for the heav'ns rouse up a brave mind, says the fiend, and run. Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man's fon, or rather an honest woman's son (for indeed my father did something smack, something grow to; he had a kind of taste ;)
--well, my conscience says, Budge not ; Budge, says the fiend ; Budge not, says my conscience; Conscience, say I, you counsel ill; Fiend, say I, you counsel ill. To be ruld by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil ; and to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, faving your reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnal; and in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counkel; I will run, fiend, my heels are at your commandment, I will run..
Enter old Gobbo, with a basket. Gob. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to Master Jew's ?
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 confusions with him.
Gob. Master 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 Lauocelot? (mark me now, now will I raise the waters); talk you of young Master Launcelot ?
Gob. No Master, Şir, but a poor man's son. His
father, though I say't, is an honest 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 befeech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot?
Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your Mastership.
Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot; talk not of Master Launcelot, father, for the young gentleman (according to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the fifters three, and such branches of learning) is indeed deceased ; or, as you would say, in plain terms, gone to heav'n. : Gob. Marry, God forbid ! the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop.
Laun. Do I look like a cudgel, or a horel-poft, a staff or a prop ? Do you
know me, father? Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young-gentle. man; but, I pray you, tell me, is
my boy, God rest his soul, alive or dead ?
Laun. Do you not know me, father?
I aun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son ; give me your blessing, truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long, a man's son may ; but in the end, truth will out.
Gob. Pray you, Sir, stand up; I am sure you are not Launcelot my boy.
Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blefling; I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that fhall be. Gob. I cannot think you are my
fon. Laun. I know not what I shall think of that ; but I am Launcelot the Jew's man, and, I am sure, Margery your wife is my mother.
Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed. I'll be sworn, if thou be Lauricelot, thou art my own flesh and blood : Lord worshipp'd might be be? what a beard haft thou
got! thou haft got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin my
thill-horse has on his tail. Laus. It should seem then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward; I am sure 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 dost thou: and thy master agree? I have brought him a present ; how agree you now?
Laun. Well, well. But for mine own part, as I have fet up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run fome ground. My master's a very Jew: give him a present ! give him a halter: I am familh'd in his service. You may tell' every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come; give me your present to one Master Bassanio, who indeed gives rare new liveries; if I serve 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 serve the Jewr any longer. Enter Baflanio with Leonardo, and a follower or two
Ball. You may do so; but let it be so hasted, that fupper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock : fee: these letters deliver'd, put the liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.
Laun. To him, father.
Laun. Not a poor boy, Sir, but the rich Jew's man, that would, Sir, as my father shall specify,
Gob. He hath a great infection, Sir, as one would say, to serve.
Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify,
Gob. His master and he, saving your Worship’s reverence, are scarce catercousins.
Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew, having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being I hope an old man, shall 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 suit is impertinent to myself, as your Worship shall know by this honest old man; and, though I fay it, though old man, yet poor man
Bal. One speak for both, what would you ?
Ball. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suit;
Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, Sir; you have the grace of God, Sir, and he hath enough.
Bal. Thou speak’lt it well; go, father, with thy son: Take leave of thy old master, and inquire My lodging out; give him a livery, More guarded than his fellows : see 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 a fairer table*, which doth ****** offer to swear upon a book, I shall have good fortune ; go to, here's a simple line of life; here's a fmall trifle of wives. Alas, fifteen wives is nothing, eleven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man ! and then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of iny life with the edge of a feather-bed, here are simple 'scapes ! well, if fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this geer. Father, come; I'll take my
leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye.
[Exeunt. Laun. and Gob. Bal. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this, These things being bought and orderly bestowed, Return in haste, for I do feast to-night My beft-esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go. Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein.
SCENE III. Enter Gratiano. Gra. Where is your
master? Leon. Yonder, Sir, he walks, [Ex, Leonardo.
* Looking on his own hand,
Gra. Signior Bassanio,
you to Belmont.
Bal. Why, then you must : but hear thee, Gratiano,
Gra. Signior Bassanio, hear me.
Baff. Well, we shall see your bearing.
Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night, you shall not gage me By what we do to-night.
Baff. No, that were pity.
Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest :
SCENE IV. Changes to Shylock's house.
Enter Jessica and Launcelot.