Enter Old Gobbo with a basket.
GOBBO.
Master young man, you, I pray you; which is the way to Master Jew’s?
LAUNCELET.
[Aside.] O heavens, this is my true-begotten father, who being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, knows me not. I will try confusions with him.
GOBBO.
Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to Master Jew’s?
LAUNCELET.
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.
GOBBO.
Be God’s sonties, ’twill be a hard way to hit. Can you tell me whether one Launcelet, that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?
LAUNCELET.
Talk you of young Master Launcelet? [Aside.] Mark me now, now will I raise the waters. Talk you of young Master Launcelet?
GOBBO.
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.
LAUNCELET.
Well, let his father be what he will, we talk of young Master Launcelet.
GOBBO.
Your worship’s friend, and Launcelet, sir.