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I would out-ftare the fterneft eyes that look,
Out-brave the heart moft 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 shall be made.

(5) So is Alcides beaten by bis Rage.] Tho' the whole Set of Editions concur in this Reading, and it pafs'd wholly unfuspected by the late Learned Editor; I am very well assur'd, 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 mention'd in the Context. If Hercules (fays he) and Lichas were to play at Dice for the Decifion of their Superiority, Licbas, 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 himself be beaten by Licbas. And who was He, but a poor unfortunate Servant of Hercules, that unknowingly brought his Mafter the envenom'd Shirt, dipt in the blood of the Centaur Neffus, and was thrown headlong into the Sea for his pains? This one Circumstance of Licbas's Quality known fufficiently afcertains the Emendation, I have fubftituted of page inftead of rage. It is fcarce requifite to hint here, it is a Point fo well known, that Page has been always us'd in English to fignify any Boy-Servant: as well as what latter Times have appropriated it to, a Lady's Trainbearer.

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Mor. Good fortune then,

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

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Laun.

SCENE changes to Venice.

Enter Launcelot alone.

Ertainly, my confcience will ferve me to run

Certainly,
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 Gobbe, ufe your legs, take the ftart, run
away. My confcience fays, no; take heed, honeft
Launcelot; take heed, honeft Gobbo; or, as aforefaid,
honeft Launcelot Gobbo, do not run; fcorn running with
thy heels. Well, the moft 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 confcience, 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 honest
woman's fon
(for indeed, my father did fome-
thing fmack, fomething grow to; he had a kind of
tafte.) well, my confcience fays, budge not;
budge, fays the fiend; budge not, fays my confcience;
confcience, fay I, you counsel ill; fiend, fay I, you coun-
fel ill. To be rul'd by my confcience, I fhould ftay with
the Jew 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 in-
carnal; and in my confcience, my confcience is but a
kind of hard confcience, to offer to counsel me to stay
with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly coun-
fel; I will run, fiend, my heels are at your command-
ment, I will run.

Enter old Gobbo, with a basket.

Gob. Mafter young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to mafter 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.

Geb.

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 houfe.

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 mafter Launcelot? (mark me now, now will I raife the waters ;) talk you of young mafter Launcelot ?

Gob. No matter, Sir, but a poor man's fon. His fa ther, 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 mafter Launcelot.

you,

of young

Gob. Your worship's friend and Launcelot, Sir. Laun. But, I pray you ergo, old man; ergo, I befeech talk you mafter Launcelot ? Gob. Of Launcelot, an't pleafe your mastership. Laun. Ergo, mafter Launcelot; talk not of mafterLauncelot, father, for the young gentleman (according to fates and destinies, and fuch odd fayings, the fifters three, and fuch branches of learning,) is, indeed, deceased; or, as you would fay, 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 hovel poft,, a ftaff 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 reft his foul, 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 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

Eight

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. 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, Margery your wife is my mother.

Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed. I'll be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art my own flesh and blood: lord worship'd might he be! what a beard haft thou got! thou haft got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin 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 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 these.

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

Laun. To him, father.

Gob. God bless your worship!

Ba. 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 specifie,

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

Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I ferve the Jew, and have a defire, as my father shall specifie,Gob. His mafter 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 frutifie unto you,

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

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

Bal. One speak 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.

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between

my mafter 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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