« PredošláPokračovať »
I would out ftare che sternest eyes that look,
Por. You must take your chance,
Mor. Nor will not ; therefore, bring me to my chance.
Por. First, forward to the temple ; after dinner
Cornets. To make me blest, or cursed'st among men ! Exeunt,
(5).So is Alcides beaten by bis Rage.] Though the whole Set of Editions concur in this Reading, and it pass’d wholly unsuspected by the late learned Editor; I am very well afiured, and, I dare say, the Readers will be fo too presently, that it is corrupt at Bottom. Let us look into the Poet's Drift, and the History of the Persons mentioned in the Context. If Eercules (fays he) and Lichas were to play at Dice for the Decision of their Superiority, Lichas the weaker Man, might have the beiter cast of the Two. But how then is Alcides beaten by his rage? The Poet means no more, than, if Lichas had the better Throw, fo might Herriles himself be beaten by Tickas. And who was He, but a poor unfortunate Servant of Hercules, that unknowingly bronght his Mafter the envenomed Shiit, dipt in the blood of the Centaur Nelus, and was thrown headlong into the Sea for his pains ? This one Circumstance of Lickas's Quality known, fufficiently ascertains the Emendation, I have fubdituted of fa, e initead of rage. It is scarce requisite to hint here, it is a Poirt to well known, that Page has been always used in English to figrify any Boy-Servant: as well as what latter Times have appropriated it to, a Lady's Trair.bearer,
SCE N E changes to Venice. ;
Enter Launcelot alone. . Ertainly,
from this The is mine elbow, and tempts me, faying to me, Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbe good Launcelet, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the ftart, run away. My conscience fays, no; take heed, honeft Launcelot; take heed, honeft Gobbo; or, as aforesaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo, do not run; scorn running with thy heels.
Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack; via! says the fiend; away! fays the fiend; for the heav'ns roufe up a brave mind, says the fiend ; and run. Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, my honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man's fon, or rather an honelt woman's fon (for, indeed, my father did fomething smack, something grow to ; he had a kind of taile.well, my conicience fays, budge not ; budge, says the fiend ; budge not, says my conscience ; confcience, say I, you counsel ill; fiend, say I, you counsel ill. To be ruld by my conscience, I thould stay with the few my master, who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil ; aud 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 conscience, my .conScience is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel 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. Geb. Mafter young man, you,
pray you, which is the way to maker 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 hinr.
Gob., Mafter young Gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to niafter 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 fonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit ; can you tell me whether one Launcelot, chat dwells with him, dwell with him or nos
Laur. Talk you of young master Launcelot ? (mark me now, now will I raise the waters ;) talk you of young master Launcelot?
Gub. No master, Sir, but a poor man's son. His father, though I fay't, is an honest exceeding poor many and, God be thanked, well to live.
Laun. Well, let his father be what he will, we talk of young malter Launcelot.
Gob. Your worship’s friend and Launcelot, Sir.
Laun. But, I pray you ergo, cld man: ergo, I beseech you, talk you
young malter Launcelot? Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please your maitership.
Laun. Ergo, malter Lounce!ct? talk not of matter Launcelit, father, for the young gentleman (according zo fates and destinies, and such odd sayings, the fitters three, and such branches of learning,) i9, indeed, decealed; or, as you would say, 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, hanem 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 kaow you not.
Laun. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you mighta fail of the knowing me: it is a wise fa:her, that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son ; give me your blefling, truth will come to
Hi ht; murder canuo be hid long, a man's fon may ; but, in the end, truh will cut.
Goh. Prat voll, Sir, sand up; I am sure, you are not Launelor · Loirn Pray yolu, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your iinting; I am Launcelot, your boy, that wis, your fon hat is, your child that ihall be.
Gob. I canot think you are my fun.
Laun. I know not, what I hav tik of that : but I am Launcelot the Jew's man, and, I am sure, Margery your wife is
mother. Gob. Fier name is Margery, indeed. I'll be sworn, if thou be Launcle, thou art my own fles and blood : Lord word.ip'd mishi he be ! what a beard haft thou got: thou hast got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbins 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 chang'd! how doft thou and thy master agree : I have brought him a prefent ; how agree you now?
Lann. Well, well ; but for mine own part, as I have fet up my reft to run away, so I will not rest 'till I have fun fome ground. My master's a very Jew : give him a present! give him a halter : I am familh'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 Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries ; if I serve him not, I will run as far as God has any ground. O rare fort: ne, here comes the man; to him, father, for I am a Jew, if I serve the Yew any longer.
Enter Balianio with Leonardo, and a follower or
BAD: You may do fo; but let it he fo hafted, that supper be ready at the fartheft by five of the clock; see these
letters deliver’d, put the liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodgings.
Laun. To him, father.
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 Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify,
Gob. His master and he, saving your worship’s reverence, are scarce catercousins.
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, shall frutify 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 impertinent to myself, as your worship shall know by this honest old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet poor man Baff. One speak for both, what would you? Laun. Serve you, Sir. Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, Sir. Bolf. I know thee well, thou hait 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 Jez's service, to become The follower of so poor a gentleman.
Laun. The old proverb is very well parted between my maser Shylock, and you, Sir; you have the grace
of God, Sir, and he hath enough.
Baf. Thou speak’t it well ; go, father, with thy fon : Take leave of thy old master, and enquire 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 ne'er a tongue in my head ? well, if any man in Italy