Imatges de pàgina

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 Worthip's friend and Launcelot, Sir.

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

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

Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot; talk not of Master Launcelot, father, for the young gentleman (according to fates and destinies, and fuch odd fayings, the fiiters three, and such branches of learning) is indeed deceased; or, as you would say, in plain terms, gone to heav'n.

Geb. 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 staff 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 bey, God rest 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 kuowing 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 blefling, truth will come tn light; murder cannot be hid long, a man's son inay ; but in the end, truth will cut.

Gob. Pray you, Sir, stand up; I am sure you are not Launcelot my boy.

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

Cob. I cannot think you are my son.

L111. I know not what I llall think of that: but I am Launcelor the Jew's man, and, I am sure, Margery your wife is


mother, Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed. I'll be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art my own feth and blood: Lord worihipp'd might he be! what a beard haft thou


got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin, than Dob- . bin 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 have on my face, when I last saw him.

Gob. Lord, how art thou change'd ! how dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present; how agree you no x ?

Laun. Well, well. But for mine own part, as I have set up my reft to run away, so I will not rett til} I have run fome ground. My master's a very Jew: 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 Fatlier, I am glad you are come; give me your present to one Master Baflanio, who indeed gives more new liveries; if I serve him not, I will run as far as God has any ground. O rare fortune, here comes the mán; to hiin, father, for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. Enter Baffanio with Leonardo, and a folloqver or fiue *

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

Laun. To him, father.
Gsb. God bless your Worship !
Ball. Gramercy, wouldit thou aught with me!
Gob. Here's my fun, Sir, a poor boy,

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

Gob. He hach 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 specify,

Gob. His master and he, saving your Worship's reverence, are scarce catercousins.

Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jews, having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being I hope an old inan, ihall frutify unto you,

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


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Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as your Worhip shall know by this honest old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet poor

Bol. One speak for both, what would you ?
Laun. Serve you, Sir.
Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, Sir.

Bal. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy fuit ;
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 so poor a gentleman.

Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock aad you, Sir; you have the grace of God, Sir, and he hath enough.

Bal: Thou speak'st it well; go, father, with thy fon: Take leave of thy old maiter, and inquire My lodging out; give him a livery, More guarded than his fellows: fee it done.

Laun. Father, in; I cannot get a service, no? I have ne'er a tongue


head ? well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table * which doth ****** offer to fwear upon a book, I shall have good fortune; go to, here's a simple line of life; here's a small trifle of wives. Alas, fifteen wives is nothing, eleven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man ! and then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed, here are simple ’scapes ! well, if fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this geer. Father, come ; I'll take my

leave of the Jew in the twinking of an eye.

[Exeunt Laun, and Gob. Bal. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this, These things being bought and orderly bestowed, Return in haste, for I do feat to-night My best-esteem'd acquaintance, hie thee, go. Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein.

SCE NE III. . Enter Gratiano. Gra. Where is your master ? Leon. Yonder, Sir, he walks. [Ex. Leonardo. * Looking on his own hand,


Gra. Signior Bassanio,
Bal. Gratiano!
Gra. I have a suit to you.
Bal. You have obtain'd it.
Gra. You must not deny me; I must

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
Something too liberal ; pray thee, take pain
T'ally with some cold drops of modesty
Thy skipping spirit; left, through thy wild behaviour;
I be misconstru'd in the place I go to,
And lose my hopes.

Gra. Signior Bassanio, 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 pocket, look demurely;
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes .
Thus with my hat, and figh, and say, Amen.
Use all th’ observance of civility,
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his grandam; never trust me more.
Ball. Well,

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

Ball. No, that were pity.
I would intreat you rather to put on
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment: but fare you well,
I have some business.

Gra. And I must, to Lorenzo and the rest :
But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeung
SCENE IV. Changes to Shylock's house.

Enter Jessica and Launcelot.
Jef. I'm sorry thou wilt leave my father fo;
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,
Didit rob it of some taste of tediousness;


But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee.
And, Launcelot, foon at fupper shalt thou see
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest,
Give hin this letter; do it fecretly,
And so farewel: I would not have my father
See me talk with thee.

L.aun. Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue; mof beaużtiful Pagan, moit sweet Jew! if a Christian did not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceiv’d. But, adieu ! these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly fpirit: adieu !

[Exit. Jef. Farewel, good Launcelot, Alack, what heinous sin is it in me, To be asham’d to be my father's child ? But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo, If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. [Exit.

SCENE V. The street. Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Solarino, and Salanio.

Lor. Nay, we will sink away in fupper-time, dilguise us at my lodging, and return all in an hour.

Cra. We have not made good preparation.
Sal. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers.

Sola. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly ordered, And better in my mind not undertook.

Lor. 'Tis now but four o'clock, we have two hours To furnith us. Friend Launcelot, what's the news ?

Enter Launcclot, with a letter. Laun. An it shall piease you to break up this, it shall feem to signify

Lor. I know the hand; in faith, 'tis a fair hand;
And whiter than the paper it writ on,
Is the fair hand that writ.

Gra. Love-news, in faith.
Laun. By your leave, Sir.
Lor. Whither goeft thou ?

Laun. Marry, Sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup to-night with my new maiter the Christian.


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