Imatges de pÓgina
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I would out-stare the sternest eyes that look,
Out-brave the heart most daring on the earth,
Pluck the young fucking cubs from the she-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 so may I, blind fortune leading me,
Miss that, which one unworthier may attain ;
And die with grieving.

Por. You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to chuse at all,
Or swear, before you chuse, if you chuse 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 fhall be made.

(5) So is Alcides beaten by his Rage.J Tho' the whole Set of Editions concur in this Reading, and it pass'd wholly unsuspe&ed by the late Learned Editor ; I am very well assur'd, and, I dare say, thc · Readers will be so too presently, that it is corrupt at Bottom. Let us look into the Poct's Drift, and the Hiftory of the Persons mențion'd in the context. If Hercules (says he) and Lichas were to play at Dice for the Decifion of their Superiority, Lichas, 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, so might Hercules himself be beaten by Lichas. And who was He, but a poor unfortunate Servant of Hercules, that unknowingly brought his Mafter the covenom’d Shirt, dipt in the blood of the Centaur Nessus, and was thrown headlong iato the Sea for his pains ? This one Circumftance of Lichas's Quality known sufficiently ascertains the. Emendation, I have subftituted of page ioftead of rage. It is scarce requisite to hinc dere, it is a Point so well known, that Page has been always us’d in English to figaify any Boy.Servant: as well as what laster Times have appropriated it to, a Lady's Trainbeatoto E5

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Mor. Good fortune then,

[Cornets. To make me bleft, or cursed'It among men! [Exeunt, SCEN E changes to Venice.

Enter Launcelot alone. Laun. YErtainly, my conscience will serve me to run

from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. My conscience says, no; take heed, honeft Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo; or, as aforesaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo, do not run; scorn running with thy heels. Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack; vio! says the fiend ; away! says 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, fays very wisely to me, my honest friend Eauncelot, being an honest man's son, or rather an honest woman's son (for, indeed, my father did something smack, somethirg grow to; he had a kind of taste.) well, my conscience says, budge not ; budge, says the fiend ; budge not, fays my conscience; conscience, say I, you counsel ill ; fiend, say I, you counfel ill. To be ruld by my conscience, I hould ftay with the Jew my master, 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 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 counsel ;. 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 ew's?

Laun. Q 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.

Geb. Mafter young Gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's?

Layn, 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 indire&ly 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?

Gob. No master, Sir, but a poor man's fon. His father, 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 talks of

young master Launcelot.
Gob. Your worship's friend and Launcelot, $ir.

Laun. But, I pray you ergo, old man ; ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young malter Launcelot?

Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership.

Laun. Ergo, master Launceļot; 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, deveased ; or, as you would say, in plain terms, gone to heav'n. Gob. Marry, God forbid ! the boy was the very

staff 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 rest 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

of

light; murder cannot be bid long, a man's fon may; but, in the end, truth will out.

Gob. Pray you, Sir, stand up; I am fure, you are not Eauncelot my boy.

Laun. Pray you, let's 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. 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, 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 haftthou got! thou haft got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin

my

Thill-horse has on his tail. Laun. Ít 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 kim.

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 set up my reft to run away, so I will not rest 'till I have ran fome ground. My master's a very few : give him a present! give him a halter : I am famish'd in his fer-vice. You

may

tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come ; give me your pre-fent to one mafter Basanio, 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 Few, if I serve the Jew any longer.

Enter Baffanio with Leonardo, and a follower or

two more..

Bal. You may do fo; but let it be fo hafted, that fupper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock: see thele:

letters

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 worfhip!
Baf. Gramercy, would't thou aught with me?
Gob. Here's my son, Sir, a poor boy,

Laun. Not a poor boy, Sir, but the rich Jew's man, that would, Sir, as my father shall specifie, -

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

Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a defire, as my father Thall specifie,

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 frutifie unto you,

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

Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to my self, as your worship shall know by this honeft 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.

Baj. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suit;:
Shylack, thy master, fpoke 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 fo 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.

Baf. Thou speak'it it well ; go, father, with thy son: Take leave of thy old master, and enquire 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

haye.

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