fays, no; take heed, honeft Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo or, as aforefaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo, do not run; fcorn running with thy heels. Well, the moft courageous fiend bids me pack; via! says the fiend; away! says the fiend; for the heav'ns rouse 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 honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man's fon, or rather an honest woman's fon(for, indeed, my father did something smack, fomething grow to: he had a kind of taste.)—well, my confcience fays, budge not; budge, fays the fiend; budge not, fays my conscience; conscience, fay I, you counsel ill; fiend, fay I, you counfel ill. To be rul'd by my conscience, I should stay 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 in carnal; and in my confcience, my confcience is but a kind of hard confcience, to offer to council 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. Mafter young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to Master Jew's ?

LAUN. O heav'ns, this is my true begotten father, who being more than sand-blind, high-gravel-blind, knows me not. -I will try conclufions with him. [afide.] GOB. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master 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 unto 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, [afide.] now I will raife 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 honest 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,

GOB. Your worships 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 mastership.

LAUN Ergo, Mafter Launcelot; talk not of Master Launcelot, father, for the young gentleman according to fates and destinies, and fuch odd fayings, the fisters 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-paft, a staff or a prop? do you know me, father?

GOB. A lack the day, I know you not, young gentleman ? 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 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, lets 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 fworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art my own flesh and blood. Lord worshipp'd might he be ! what a beard haft thou got! thou haft got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin my Thillhorfe has on his tail.

LAUN. It should feem then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward; I am fure, he had more hair on his tail, than. I had on my face, when I laft faw him.

GOB. Lord, how art thou chang'd. How doft thou and thy master 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, so I will not reft 'till I have run fome ground. My master's a very Jew. Give him a prefent! give him a halter: I am famifh'd in his fervice. You may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come; give me your present to one master Baffanie, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries: if I ferve

him not, I will run as far as God has any ground. O tare 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.

BASS. You may do fo.-But let it be so hasted, that fupper be ready at the fartheft by five of the clock. See thefe 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!

BASS. Gramercy, would'st 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 shall specify,

GOB. He hath a great infection, Sir, as one would say, 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 worlhip's reverence, are scarce catércousins.

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, fhall frutifie 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 impertiment to myself, as your worship fhall know by this honest old man; and, though I fay it, though old man, yet poor man my father. BASS. One speak for both. What would you?

LAUN. Serve you, Sir,

GOB. This is the very defect of the matter, Sir,

BASS. 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 fervice 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.

BASS. Thou fpeak'ft it well. Go, father, with thý fon: Take leave of thy old master, and enquire My lodging out. Give him a livery,

[To his followers. 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, [looking on his palm.] if any man in Italy have a fairer table, which doth offer to fwear upon a book.- I fhall have good fortune- -Go to, here's a fimple line of life. Here's a fmall trifle of wives; alas, fifteen wives is nothing, eleven widows and nine maids is a fimple coming-in for one man. And then to 'fcape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed.-Here are fimple 'fcapes! Well, if fortune be a woman, fhe's a good wench for this geer. Father, come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. [Exeunt Laun. and Gob. BASS. I pray thee, good Leonardo, 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 beft endeavours shall be done herein.
SCENE III.

Enter Gratiano.

GRA. Where is your master?