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I would out-ftare the fternest eyes that look,
Out-brave the heart moft daring on the earth,
Pluck the young fucking cubs from the fhe-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 fo may I, blind fortune leading me,
Mifs that, which one unworthier may attain;
And die with grieving.

Por. You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to chufe at all,

Or fwear, before you chufe, if you chufe 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. Firft, forward to the temple; after dinner Your hazard fhall be made.

(5) So is Alcides beaten by his Rage.] Tho' the whole Ser of Editions concur in this Reading, and it pafs'd wholly unfuspected by the late Learned Editor; I am very well affur'd, and, I dare fay, the Readers will be fo too presently, that it is corrupt at Bottom. Let us look into the Poet's Drift, and the Hif tory of the Perfons mention'd in the Context. If Hercules (fays 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 envenom'd Shirt, dipt in the blood of the Centaur Nessus, and was thrown headlong into the Sea for his pains? This one Circumftance of Lichas's Quality known fufficiently afcertains the Emendation, 1 have fubftituted of page instead of rage. It is fcarce requifite to hint here, it is a Point fo well known, that Page has been always us'd in English to fignify any Boy-Servant: as well as what latter Times have appropriated it to, a Lady's Trainbearero

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Mor. Good fortune then,

To make me bleft, or curfed'ft among men !

Laun.

SCENE changes to Venice.

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Enter Launcelot alone.

[Cornets. Exeunt.

Ertainly, my confcience will ferve me to run from this Few my mafter. The fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, faying to me, Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, ufe your legs, take the ftart, run away. My confcience fays, no; take heed, honeft Launcelot; take heed, honeft Gobbo; or, as aforefaid, honeft Launcelot Gobbo, do not run; fcorn running with thy heels. Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack; via! fays the fiend; away! fays 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 honeft friend Launcelot, being an honeft man's fon, or rather an honeft woman's fon (for, indeed, my father did fomething fmack, fomething grow to; he had a kind of tafte.) well, my confcience fays, budge not; budge, fays the fiend; budge not, fays my confcience; confcience, fay I, you counfel ill; fiend, fay I, you counfel ill. To be rul'd by my confcience, I fhould ftay with the Jew my mafter, who, God blefs 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 confcience, my confcience is but a kind of hard confcience, to offer to counfel me to stay with the few. The fiend gives the more friendly counfel; 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 mafter Jew's?

Laun. O 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

Gob. Mafter young Gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to mafter 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.

Gab. 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 mafter, 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.

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Laun. Well, let his father be what he will, we talk 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 master Launcelot?

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

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 ftaff of 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 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, 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 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 worfhip'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.

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 present ; 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 reft 'till I have ran fome ground. My mafter's a very few give him a prefent! 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 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.

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: fee thefe

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letters deliver'd, put the liveries to making, and defire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

Laun. To him, father.

Gob. God blefs your worship!

Baff. Gramercy, would't 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 specifie,

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

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 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 beltow 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 say it, though old man, yet poor man my father.

Baff. One fpeak 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;: Shylack, thy mafter, fpoke 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.

Baff. 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 service, no? I have ne'er a tongue in my head? well, if any man in Italy

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