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How like a younger or a prodigall,
The skarfed Barke pues from her natiuc bay,
Hugd and embraced by the trumpet winde,
How like the prodigall doth she recurue
With ouer-wetherd ribs and ragged sayles,
Leane,rent,and beggerd by the Arumpet 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 have made you waite :
When you shal please co play the chccues for wiucs
Ile watch as long for you then : approch,
Here dwels my father low. Ho, whose within:

leffica above.
lef. Who are you?

tell me for more certainty, Albeit Ile fweare that I do know your tongue.

Lor, Lorenzo and thy louc.

leff. Lorenzo certaine,and my loue indeed,
For who loue I so much ? and now who knowes
But you Lorenzo, whether I am yours?
Lo Heauen & thy thoghts are witnes that thou art

lef.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 louc is blinde, and louers cannot see
The pretty follies that themselues commit,
For if they could,Cupid himselfe would blush
To see in thus transformed to a boy.

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

let.what,must I hold a Candle to my shames,
They in themselues goodsooth are too too light.
Why tis an office of discouery, Loue,
And I should be obscur'd.

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 staid for at Baranios feast.

lef.I will make fast the doorcs, and guild sny felfe With some mo ducats, and be with you straight.

Grat. Now by my hood, a Gentile and no Icw.

Lor.Beshrew me but I loue her hartily,
For she is wise, if I can judge of her,
And faire she is,ifthat mine eyes be true,
And true lhe is, as the hath proo’ud herselfe,
And therefore like herselfe, wisc, faire and true,
Shall she be placed in my conftant soule.

Enter Teffica.
What,art thou come? on gentlemen,away,
Our masking mates by this time for vs stay. Exit.

Enter Antbonio,
Ant.Who's there?
Gra.Signior Antbogio.

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


Enter Portia with Morrocbo, and borb their traies,

Por. Goe; draw aside the Curtaines, and discouer
The scuerall Caskets to this noble Prince:
Now make your choife.

Mor. The first of gold,who this iscription beares,
Who chooseth me, shall gaine what many men defire...
The fecond filuer, which this promise carries,
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserucs..
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt,
Who chooserb me, must giue and

hazard all he hath.. How Shall I know if I do choose the right?

gone to heauen.

Master Launcelet.

Gob. Your worships friend, and Lancelet fir.

Lan. But I pray you ergo oldcinan, ergo I beseech you, talke you of yong N. Lancelet.

Gob, of Lancelet an't please your mastership,

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

Gob. Marry God forbid, the boy was cho veric staffc of my age, my very prop.

Lance. Dollooke like a cudgellor a houell poste, a staffe, or a prop: do you know ine 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 deede 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; Trucch will come to light, Murther cannot be hidde long, a mans sonne may, but at the length trueth will

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

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

Gob. I cannot thinke you are my sonnc.

Lance. I know not what I shall thinke of that, but I am Lana celet the lewsman, and I am sure Margery

, your wife is my mother.

Gob. Her name is Margery indeede, ile be sworne if thou bee Lancelet, thou are minc. owncflesh and blood: Lord worship


my boy.

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. It should seeme then that Dobbins caile growes backward. I am sure he had more haire of his tayle then I hauc of

my face, when I last saw him.

Gob. Lord how art thou chang'd: how doest chou and thy Mafter agrec? I haue brought him a present; how agree you now Lance. Well, well,

but for mine owne part as I haue set vp my rest to runne away, so I will not rett till Thaue run fome ground; My master's a very lew, giuc him a present,g:uc him a halter, I am famishțin his feruice. 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 ferue not him, I will runnc 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 Balranio with a follower or two. Baff. You may doe so, buc let it be so hasted that supper be ready at the farthest by fiuc of the clocke:sce these Letters deliuered, put the Lyueries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

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

Lance.Not a poore boy fir,but the rich Idwes man that wold. fir,as may father shall specific.

Gob. He hath a great infection fir, as one would say co ferue;

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 rcucrence) are. scarle catercofins..

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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 frutific vnto you.

Gob. I haue hccre a dish of Doues that I would bestow vpon your worship: and iny fuce is

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

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

Baff. I know thee well, thou hast obtain’d thy fute,
Shylocke thy master spoke with me this day,
And hath prefere’d thee, if it be preferinenc
Tolcaue a rich lewes seruice, to become
The follower of so 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.

Bass. Thou speakst it well. Go Father with thy fonne,
Take leaue ofthy old master, and enquire
My Lodging out. Giuc him a Ljuery
More garded then his fellowes, see it done.

Lan. Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I ha nere a congue
in my head. Well, if any man in Italy haue a fairer table which
doth offer coswcare vppon a booke, I shall haue good fortune. .
Go too, heere's a simple line of life, here's a smal trifle of wiucs:
Alas, fifteene wiues is nothing, eleuen VViddowes and nine
maids, is a simple 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 geere.

geere. Father, come ile
take my lcauc of the lew in the twinkling of an eye.

Exit Clowne.
Bal. I pray thee good Leonardo thinke on this,
These things being bought, and orderly bcfow'd,


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