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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 master Launcelot ?

Gub. No master, Sir, but a poor man's son. His father, though I fay't, is an honeft exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live.

Lawn. 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 of young maiter 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 definies, 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 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?

Laur. Do 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 blefling, truth will come to light; murder cannot be bid 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.

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Laun. Pray yeu, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your bleffing; I am Launcelot, your boy, that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.

Gob. I cannot think, you are my son.

Laun. I know not, what I shall think of that : but
I am Launcelot the Jew's man, and, I am sure, Mar.'
gery your wife, is my mother.
Gob. Her name is Marg

gery, 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 hast thou got! thou haft got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin my Thill-horse has on his tail (10).

Laun. It should seem then, that Dobbin's tail grows backwark; 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 doft thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present; how agree you now?

Laun. Well, well, but for my own part, as I have set up my reft to run away, so I will not reit 'till I have run some ground. My master's a very few : give him a present! give him a halter: I am familh'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 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 Jew any longer. Enter Baffanio with Leonardo, and a follower or

two more. Bal. You may do so; but let it be fo hafted, that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock : see these letters deliver'd, put the liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

Laun. To him, father. (10) than Dobbin my Thill-borse] Some of the editions have it Phill, others Fill-horse; both, erroneously. It must be thill-borse; i. c. the horfe, which draws in the Shafis, or I bill, of the carriage.

Gob.

Gob. God bless your worship!
Buf. Gramercy, woula’ıt thou ought with me?
Gob. Here's my son, Sir, a poor boy,

Laun. Not a poor buy, Sir, but the rich Jew's man, that would, Sir, as my father thall 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.

Gób. His master and he, faving your worship’s reverence, are scarce cater-coulins.

Lavn. 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 say 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.

Ball. I know thee well, thou haft obtain'd thy suit;
Shylock, thy master spoke with me this day,
And hath preferr'd thee; if it be preferment
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
The follower of lo poor a gentleman.

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' it it well; go, father, with thy fon : Take leave of thy old master, and erquire My lodging out; give him a livery, More guarded than his fellows: see it done.

Laun. Father, in ; I cannot get a service, no? I have ne'er a tongue in my head ? well, if any man in Italy have (11) à fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon

a

(11) Well, if any man in Italy bave &c.]. This stubborn piece of ponsense seems to have taken its rise from this accident, In transcribe

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a book, I Mall have good fortune; go-to, here's a simple
line of life; here's a small trife of wives; alas, fiftcen
wives is nothing, eleven widows, and nine maids is a
fimple coming in for one man! and then to scape drown-
ing thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge
of a feather bed, here are simple 'scapes ! weil, if for-
tune 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.

[Ex. Laun. and Gube
Ball. I pray thee, good Lecnardo, think on this.
These things being bought and orderly bestowed,
Return in hafte, for I do feast to-night
My best esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go.
Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein.

Enter Gratiano.
Gra. Where is

your

master?
Leon. Yonder, Sir, he walks. [Ex. Leonardo
Gra. Signior Bafanio!

重 1
Bal. Gratiano!
Gra, I have a suit to you.
Baf. You have obtain'd it.

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

Bal. 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 such eyes as ours appear not faults.;
But where thou art not known, why, there they shew

omething too liberal ; pray thee, take pain
T' allay with some cold drops of modesty.
Thy skipping fpirit; left, through thy wild behaviour,
ing the play for the press, there was certainly a linc loft ; so that the
passage for the future should be printed thus ;
Will, if any man in Italy bave 'a fairer "rable, which *

* offer to swear upon a book," 1 fall bave good fortune. 'Tis impossible to find out the lost line, but the loft fenfe is easy enough; as thus,

Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table, wbicb doth [promise good luck, I am mistaken, I durit almof] offer 10 swear upon a book, I pall bare good fortunes

Mr. Warburton.

I

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I be misconftru'd in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.

Gra. Signior Bafanio, 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 saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and figh and say, Amen ;
Use all the observance of civility,
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his grandam; never trust me more.

Baf. Well, we shall see your bearing.

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

Bal. No, that were pity.
I would entreat you rather to put on
Your boldeft 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 ret :
But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Shylock's house.

Enter Jeffica and Launcelot
'M sorry, thou wilt leave my father fo;

Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
Didit rob it of some taste of tedioufness;
But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thiee.
And Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest;
Give him this letter, do it secretly,
And so farewel : I would not have my

father See me talk with thee.

Laur, Adieu ; tears exhibit my tongue; most beautiful Pagan, most sweet Jew! if a christian did not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceiv'd; but adicu! these foolith drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit: adicu !

Joo

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