I would out-stare the sternest eyes that look,
Out-brave the heart moft daring on the earth,
Pluck the young fucking cubs from the she-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 Alcide's beaten by his page ; (5)
And fo may I, blind fortune leading me,
Miss that, which one unworthier may attain ;
And die with grieving.

Por. You must take your chance,
And either not attempt to chuse at all,
Or swear, before you chuse, if


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. First, forward to the temple; after dinner Your hazard shall be made.

(5) So is Alcides beaten by his Rage,] Tho' the whole Set of. Editions concur in this Reading, and it pass'd wholly unsuspe&ed by the late Learned Editor; I am very well assur'd, and, I dare say, the Readers will be so too presently, that it is corrupt at Bottom. Let us look into the Poet's Drift, and the Hif tory of the Persons mention'd in the context. If Hercules (says he) and Lichas were to play at Dice for the Decision 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 Neffus, and was thrown headlonginto the Sea for his pains ? This one Circumstance of Lichas's Quality known füfficiently ascertains the Emendation, I have Substituted of page instead of rage. It is scarce requisite to hint here, it is a Point so well known, that Page has been always us'd. in English to signify any Boy-Servant: as well as what latter Times have appropriated it to, a Lady's Trainbearer. E 5


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Mor. Good fortune then,

[Cornetsi To make me blest, or cursed'st among men! [Exeunt. SCEN E changes to Venice.

Enter Launcelot alone. Laun.

YErtainly, my conscience will ferve me to run

from this Few my master. The fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. My conscience fays, no; take heed, haneft Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobło; or, as aforefaid, honest Launcelot Gobbo, do not run ; fcorn running with thy heels. Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack; vio! says the fiend ; away! says the fiend; for The heav'ns rouse up a brave mind, says the fiend, and Tun.. Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, my honest friend Launcelot, being an honeft man's son, or rather an honest woman's son

(for, indeed, my father did something smack, fomething grow to; he had a kind of tafte.) well, my conscience says, budge not i budge, says the fiend ; budge not, says my conscience; con cience, say I, you counsel ill: fiend, fay. I, you counfel ill. To be ruid 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 Yew, I should be roled by the fiend, who, faving your reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly, the few 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. 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 fand-blind, high gravel-blind, knows me not, I will try confufions with hin.



Gob. Mafter 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 to the Jew's house. Gob. By God's sonties, 'cwill be a hard way to hit ; you

tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with bim, dwell with him or no ?

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

Geb. No master, Sir, but a poor man's son. His father, though I say'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

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

Laun. But, I pray you ergo, old inan ; ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young

maiter 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 fuch odd sayings, the fifters three, and such branches of learning,) is, indeed, deseafed ; or, as you would say, 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-post, a kaff 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 rest his soul, 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 wise father, that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son; give me your blefling, truth will come to

light; murder cannot be bid long, a man's fon may; but, in the end, truth will out.

Gob. Pray you, Sir, stand up; I am sure, you are. not Launcelot my boy.

Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing ; I am Launcelot, your boy, that was, your fon 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, Margery your wife is my mother.

Gob. Her name is Margery; indeed. I'll be sworn, 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


Thill-horse has on his tail. Laun. Ít 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 Plaft saw him.

Gob. Eord, how art thou chang'd! how doft thou. and thy master agree? I have brought him a present; how agree you now?

Laun. Well, well ; but for mine own part, as I have set up my reft to run away, so I will not rest 'till I have run fome ground. My master's a very few : give him a present! give him a halter : I am familh'd in his fer

You may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come ; give me your pre-. fent to one master Basanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries; if I serve him not, I will run as far asGod has any ground. O rare fortune, here comes the man; to him, father, for I am a Few, if I serve the Jew any longer. Enter Baffànio with Leonardo, and a follower or

two more


Bal You


do fo; but let it be so hafted, that supper be ready at the farthest by five of she clock: fee these


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

Laun. To him, father.
Gob. God bless your worship!
Ball. Gramerey, would'It thou aught with me ?
%. 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 specifie,

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 fall specifie,

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 cause me, as my father, being I hope an old man,

shall 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 impertinent to my felf, as your worship shall know by this honeft old man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet poor man my father.

Ball. One speak for both, what would you?
Laun. Serve you, Sir.
Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, Sir.

Bal. I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy fuit ;;
Sbylock, thy master, spoke with me this day,
And hath preferr'd thee ;. if it be preferment
To leave a rich Yew'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.

Bal. Thou speak’t it well; go, father, with thy son:
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 apy man in Italy


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