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Besides, the lottery of my destiny
; And die with grieving.
(7) And hedg'd me by his wil-) I suppose we may safely read, and beda'd me by his will. Confined me by his will.
(8) That few the Sophy, &c.j Shakespeare seldom escapes well when he is entangled with Geogiaphy. The Prince of Morocco must bave travelled far to kill the Sophy of Persia,
(9) So is Alc des bea'en by bis Rage.] Though the whole Set of Edit ons concur in this Reading, it is corrupt at bottom. Let us look into the Poet's Drift, and the hiftory of the Persons mentioned in the context, If Hercules (says he) and Lichas, were to play at dice for the Decision of their Superiority, Lichas the weaker Man might have the better Cast of the Two. But how then is Alcides beaten by his rage? The Poet means no more, than, if Lic has had the better Throw, so might Hercules himself be beaten by Licbas. And who was He, but a poor unfortunate Servant of Hercules, ihat unknowingly brought his Master the envenomed Shirt, dipt in the blood of the Centaur, Nellies, and was thrown headlong into the Sea for his pains ? This one Circumstance of Lichas's Quality krown fufficiently acertains the Emendation, I have fuöttituted page instead of f 12€.
Por. You must take your chance,
Mor. Nor will not. Comne, bring me to my chance.
(Cornets. To make me blest, or cursed'A among men!: [Exeunt.
from this Jew my master. The fiend is, at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, Gobbs, Laun. celot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away: My conscience fays, no ; take heed, honest Launceloti take heed, honest Gobbo; or, as aforesaid, honest Laincelot Gobbo, do not run; scorn running with thy heels. Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack ; via! fays the fiend ; away? fays the fiend ; for the heav'ns touse 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 son, or rather an honest woman's fon- -(for, indeed, my father did something smack, something grow to : he had a kind of taste. well, any conscience fays, budge not; budge, says the fiend ; budge not, says my conscience ; conscience, say I, you counsel ill ; fiend, fay I, you counsel ill. To be ruld by my conscience, I fhould 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
(1) Therefore be advis’d.] Therefore be not precipitant ; consider well what we are to do. Advisid is the word oppogte to rafb.
tuled by the fiend, who, faving your reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly, the Jew is the very devil in carnal; and in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the few. The fiend gives the more friendly counfel; I will run, fiend, my heels are at your commandmeat, I will run.
Enter old Gobbo, with a basket.
Gob. Mafter young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to Master Jew's?
Laun. (afde.] O heav'ns, this is my true begotten father, who being more than land blind, high-gravelblind, knows me not. I will try conclusions with him (2)
Gob Mafter young Gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jero's ?
Laun. (3) 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 unto the Jew's house.
Gob. By God's fonties, 'will 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, [afide.) now will I raise the waters ;) talk
you young Master Launcelot?
Gob. No master, Sir, but a poor man's son. His
(2) Try conclufioms.) Two of the quarto's read confufions, which is certainly right, because the first thing Launce does, is to confufe his faiher by the directions he gives him.
Mr. STEEVL NS. So che old Quarto. This first Folio, by a mere blunder, reads, try coufufoni, which, because it mikes a kind of paltry jest, has been copied hy all the Editors.
(3) Turn up, on your rigbe hand, &c.] This arch and perplexed direction. to puzzle the enquirer, seems to imitate that of yrus to Demea in the Brothers of Terence.
ubi eas præterieris, Ad finiltramn bac rectâ plateâ : ubi ad Diana veneris, llo ad dextram : prius quam ad portam venias, &c.
father, though I fay'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; erga, I beseech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot?
Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your master ship.
Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot ; talk not of Mafte Launcelot, father, for the young gentleman according to fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the filters three, and such branches of learning, is, indeed, deceased ; or, as you would say, in plain terins, 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 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 soul, alive or dead? Laun. Do
you not know me, father? Gob. 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 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 i but in the end, truth will out.
Gob. Pray you, Sir, stand I am sure, you are not Launcelot my boy.
Laun. Pray you, lets have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing : I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall
(4) Your chill the ball be.] Launce, by your child thet fail be, means, that his duty to his father shall, for the future, fhew him to be his child. It was rather become necefl:ry for him to føy something of that sort, after all the tricks he had been playing hiin.
Mr. STEEVENS. The distinction between boy and lon is obvious, but ch!!d recmis to have had fome meaning which is now loft.
Gob. I cannot think you are my son.
Laun. I know not, what I shall think of that: but I am Launcelot the Jer's man, and, I am sure, Margery. your wife is
Gob. Her name is Margery indeed. I'll be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art my own Aesh and blood. Lord worshipp'd might he be ! what a beard haft thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin my Thill-horse has on his tail.
Laun. It should seem then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward; I am sure, he had more hair on his tail, than I had on my face, when I last faw him.
Gob. Lord, how art thou chang’d. How dost thou and thy miafter agree? I have brought him a present ; how
agree you now? Laun. Well, well; but for mine own part, as I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest 'till I have run fome ground. My master's a very few. 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 prefent to one master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries ; if I serve him not, I will run as tar as God has any ground. O rare fortune, here comes the man; to him, father--for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer.
Enter Bassanio with Leonardo, and a follower or
Bas. You may do so._But let it be so hasted, that füpper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these letters deliver'd, put the liveries to making, and defire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.
Laun. To him, father.
Laun. Not a poor boy, Sir, but the rich few's man, that would, Sir, as my father shall specify,
Goh. He hath a great infection, Sir, as one would say, to serve,