I, 'you counsel well:' to be ruled by my con-
science, 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 should be ruled by
the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the
devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very
devil incarnal; and, in my conscience, my con-
science is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer 30
to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend
gives the more friendly counsel: I will run, fiend;
my heels are at your command; I will run.

Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket.

Gob. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's?

Laun. [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten father who, being more than sand-blind, highgravel blind, knows me not: I will try confusions with him.

Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is 40 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 to the Jew's house. Gob. By God's sonties, '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;

[Aside]

now will I raise the waters.

Talk you of young Master Launcelot ?

Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man's son: his father,

50

though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man,
and, God be thanked, well to live.

Laun. Well, let his father be what a' 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, talk you of young Master 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 Destinies and such odd
sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of
learning, is indeed deceased; or, as you would
say in plain terms, gone to heaven.

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
staff or a prop? Do you know me, father?
Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentle-
man: 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 sand-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

60

70

truth will come to light; murder cannot 80 be hid long; a man's son may; but, at the length, truth will out.

Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not
Launcelot, my boy.

OF VENICE

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 90 Margery your wife is my mother.

Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail.

100

Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows backward: I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I have of my face when I last saw him. Gob. Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. How 'gree you now? Laun. Well, well: but, for mine own part, as I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground. My master's a very Jew give him a present! give him a halter: I am famished in his service; you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come: give me your present 110 to one Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries: if I serve not him, 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 Bassanio, with Leonardo and other followers. Bass. You may do so; but let it be so hasted, that supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these letters delivered; put the liveries to making; and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

Laun. To him, father.

Gob. God bless your worship!

[Exit a Servant. 120

Bass. Gramercy! wouldst 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

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 130 Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify,

Gob. His master and he, saving your worship's reverence, are scarce cater-cousins,

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 frutify

unto you,

Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I would be-
stow upon your worship, and my suit 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.

Bass. One speak for both. What would you?

140

Laun. Serve you, sir.

Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir.

Bass. I know thee well; thou hast 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 so 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.

150

Bass. Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy

son.

Take leave of thy old master and inquire
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 160 ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man. in Italy have a fairer table which doth offer to swear 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, nothing! a'leven widows and simple coming-in for one man drowning thrice, and to be in

fifteen wives is
nine maids is a
and then to 'scape
peril of my life

with the edge of a feather-bed; here are simple scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a 170 good wench for this gear. Father, come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an [Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo. Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this:

eye.

These things being bought and orderly bestow'd,
Return in haste, for I do feast to-night