My
     heels are at your commandment. I will run.

Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket

GOBBO   Master young man, you, I pray you which is the
     way to Master Jew’s?

LANCELET   O heavens, this is my true-begotten28 father,

Aside

     who, being more than sand-blind29, high-gravel-blind, knows
     me not. I will try confusions30 with him.

GOBBO   Master young gentleman, I pray you which is the
     way to Master Jew’s?

LANCELET   Turn upon 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 hand35, but turn down indirectly to
     the Jew’s house.

GOBBO   By God’s sonties37, ’twill be a hard way to hit. Can you
     tell me whether one Lancelet, that dwells with him, dwell
     with him or no?

LANCELET   Talk you of young Master Lancelet?—

Aside

     Mark me now, now will I raise the waters41.—Talk you of
     young Master Lancelet?

GOBBO   No master43, 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 live45.

LANCELET   Well, let his father be what a46 will, we talk of young
     Master Lancelet.

GOBBO   Your worship’s friend and Lancelet48.

LANCELET   But I pray you ergo49, old man, ergo, I beseech you talk
     you of young Master Lancelet?

GOBBO   Of Lancelet, an’t51 please your mastership.

LANCELET   Ergo, Master Lancelet. Talk not of Master Lancelet,
     father53, for the young gentleman—according to fates and
     destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three54 and such
     branches of learning—is indeed deceased, or as you would
     say in plain terms, gone to heaven.

GOBBO   Marry, God forbid! The boy was the very staff of my
     age, my very prop.

LANCELET   Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post59, a staff or a
     prop? Do you know me, father?

GOBBO   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?

LANCELET   Do you not know me, father?

GOBBO   Alack, sir, I am sand-blind. I know you not.

LANCELET   Nay, indeed if you had your eyes you might fail of
     the knowing66 me: it is a wise father that knows his own
         child67.
     Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son. Give

He kneels

     me your blessing. Truth will come to light, murder cannot be
     hid long, a man’s son may, but in the end truth will out.

GOBBO   Pray you, sir, stand up. I am sure you are not
     Lancelet, my boy.

LANCELET   Pray you let’s have no more fooling about it, but
     give me your blessing. I am Lancelet, your boy that was, your
     son that is, your child that shall be74.

GOBBO   I cannot think you are my son.

LANCELET   I know not what I shall think of that. But I am
     Lancelet, the Jew’s man, and I am sure Margery your wife is
     my mother.

GOBBO   Her name is Margery80, indeed. I’ll be sworn, if thou
     be Lancelet, 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-horse83 has
     on his tail.

LANCELET   It should seem, then, that Dobbin’s tail

He rises

     grows backward86. I am sure he had more hair of his tail than
     I have of my face when I last saw him.

GOBBO   Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy
     master agree89? I have brought him a present. How ’gree you
     now?

LANCELET   Well, well. But for mine own part, as I have set up
     my rest91 to run away, so I will not rest92 till I have run some
     ground; my master’s a very93 Jew. Give him a present? Give
     him a halter94! I am famished in his service. You may tell every
     finger I have with my ribs95. Father, I am glad you are come.
     Give me96 your present to one Master Bassanio, who, indeed,
     gives rare97 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 Jew99 if I serve the Jew any longer.

Enter Bassanio, with a follower or two [including Leonardo]

BASSANIO   You may do so, but let it be so hasted100

To a Servant

     that supper be ready at the farthest101 by five of the clock. See
     these letters delivered, put the liveries to making, and desire
     Gratiano to come anon103 to my lodging.

[Exit a Servant]

LANCELET   To him, father.

GOBBO   God bless your worship!

Comes forward

BASSANIO   Gramercy106! Wouldst thou aught with me?

GOBBO   Here’s my son, sir, a poor boy—

LANCELET   Not a poor108 boy, sir, but the rich Jew’s man, that
     would, sir, as my father shall specify—

GOBBO   He hath a great infection110, sir, as one would say, to
     serve—

LANCELET   Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew and
     have a desire, as my father shall specify—

GOBBO   His master and he, saving your worship’s reverence,
     are scarce115 cater-cousins—

LANCELET   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 frutify118 unto you—

GOBBO   I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon
     your worship, and my suit is—

LANCELET   In very brief, the suit is impertinent121 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.

BASSANIO   One speak for both. What would you?

LANCELET   Serve you, sir.

GOBBO   That is the very defect126 of the matter, sir.

BASSANIO   I know thee well, thou hast obtained thy suit.
     Shylock thy master spoke with me this day,
     And hath preferred129 thee, if it be preferment
     To leave a rich Jew’s service, to become
     The follower of so poor a gentleman.

LANCELET   The old proverb132 is very well parted between my
     master Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of God, sir,
     and he hath enough.

BASSANIO   Thou speak’st it well. Go, father, with thy son.
     Take leave of thy old master and inquire
     My lodging out136.—Give him a livery

To a Servant

     More guarded138 than his fellows’. See it done.

LANCELET   Father, in. I cannot get a service, no. I have ne’er a
     tongue in my head. Well, if any man in Italy have a

Points to his palm

     fairer table141 which doth offer to swear upon a book,
     I shall have good fortune.