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

Gob. Your worship's friend and Launcelot, Sir.

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

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

Laun. Ergo, mafter Launcelot; talk not of mafter Launcelot, father, for the young gentleman (according to fates and deftinies, and fuch odd fayings, the fifters three, and fuch branches of learning,) is, indeed, deceafed; 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 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 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

ubi eas præterieris,

Ad finiftram hac rectâ platea: ubi ad Dianæ veneris,
Ito ad dextram priùs, quàm ad portam venias: &c.

The Reader, upon a Collation of the whole Paffage, will find, how infinitely more concife and humourous the Jeft is couch'd in our Poet.

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, 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


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 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 (10).

· Laun. It should 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 rest 'till I have run fome ground. My mafter'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 prefent to one mafter Baffanio, 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 few, if I ferve the Jew any longer.

(10) than Dobbin my Thill horfe] Some of the Editions have it Phill, others Fill-horfe; Both, erroneoufly. It must be thill-horfe; i. e. the Horse, which draws in the Shafts, or Thill, of the Carriage.

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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: see these 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!

Baff. Gramercy, would'ft thou ought 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 say, to serve.

Laun. Indeed, the fhort and the long is, I ferve the Few, and have a defire as my father shall specifie. Gob. His master 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 beftow upon your worship; and my fuit is

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

Baff. 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, 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 mafter Shylock and you, Sir; you have the grace of God, Sir, and he hath enough.

Bal. 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 have (11) 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 gcer. Father, come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye.

[Ex. Laun. and Gob. Baff. 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 best endeavours shall be done herein.
Enter Gratiano.

Gra. Where is your master?

Leon. Yonder, Sir, he walks;
Gra. Signior Baffanio,

Baff. Gratiano!

Gra. I have a fuit to you.

Baff. You have obtain❜d it.

[Ex. Leonardo.

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

(11) Well, if any Man in Italy have &c] This ftubborn Piece of Nonfense feems to have taken its Rife from this Accident. In tranfcribing the Play for the Prefs, there was certainly a Line loft; so that the Paffage for the future fhould be printed thus;



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Well, if any Man in Italy have a fairer Table, which doth * * offer to fwear upon a Book, I shall have good Fortune. 'Tis impoffible to find out the loft Line, but the loft Senfe is eafy enough; as


Well, if any Man in Italy have a fairer Table, which doth [promise good Luck, I am mistaken. I durft almoft] offer to fear upon a Book, I Jhall have good Fortune. Mr. Warburton.


Baff. 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 fuch eyes as ours appear not faults;
But where thou art not known, why, there they fhew
Something too liberal; pray thee, take pain
T'allay with fome cold drops of modefty

Thy skipping fpirit; left, through thy wild behaviour,
I be mifconftru'd in the place I go to,

And lofe my hopes.

Gra. Signior Baffanio, hear me.

If I do not put on a fober habit,

Talk with refpect, and fwear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pockets, look demurely;
Nay more, while grace is faying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and figh and fay, Amen;
Ufe all th' obfervance of civility,

Like one well studied in a fad oftent

To please his grandam; never trust me more.

Baff. Well, we fhall fee

your bearing.

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

Baff. 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 rest: But we will visit you at fupper-time.


SCENE changes to Shylock's house.

Enter Jeffica and Launcelot.

Jef. I'Our houfe is hell, and thou, a merry devil,

'M forry, thou wilt leave my father fo;

Didft rob it of fome taste of tediousness;
But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee.
And Launcelot, foon at fupper fhalt thou fee
Lorenzo, who is thy new mafter's gueft;

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