_Enter_ BASSANIO, _with_ LEONARDO, _and_ STEPHANO.

_Bas_. See these letters deliver'd; put the liveries to making; and
desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

[_Exit a_ SERVANT.

_Lau_. To him, father.

_Gob_. Heaven bless your worship!

_Bas_. Gramercy! Would'st thou aught with me?

_Gob_. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy--

_Lau_. 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----

_Lau_. 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
cater-cousins.

_Lau_. 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 bestow upon your
worship; and my suit is----

_Lau_. In very brief, the suit is impertinent[51] 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.

_Bas_. One speak for both. What would you?

_Lau_. Serve you, sir.

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

_Bas_. 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.

_Lau_. The old proverb is very well parted between my master, Shylock,
and you, sir; you have the grace of Heaven, sir, and he hath---- enough.

_Bas_. 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. [_To his Followers_.
More guarded[52] than his fellows': See it done.

_Lau_. Father, in:--_(Exit_ OLD GOBBO.) I cannot get a service, no!--I
have ne'er a tongue in my head!--Well; (_looking on his palm_) if any
man in Italy have a fairer table;[53] which doth offer to swear upon a
book I shall have good fortune![54] Go to, here's a simple line of
life![55] here's a small trifle of wives: Alas, fifteen wives is
nothing; eleven widows and nine maids, is a simple coming in for one
man: and then, to 'scape drowning thrice; and to be in peril of my life
with the edge of a feather-bed,[56] here are simple 'scapes! Well, if
fortune be a woman she's a good wench for this gear.--I'll take my