LORENZO.
How every fool can play upon the word! I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence, and discourse grow commendable in none only but parrots. Go in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner.
LAUNCELET.
That is done, sir, they have all stomachs.
LORENZO.
Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! Then bid them prepare dinner.
LAUNCELET.
That is done too, sir, only “cover” is the word.
LORENZO.
Will you cover, then, sir?
LAUNCELET.
Not so, sir, neither. I know my duty.
LORENZO.
Yet more quarrelling with occasion! Wilt thou show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant? I pray thee understand a plain man in his plain meaning: go to thy fellows, bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner.
LAUNCELET.
For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for the meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern.
[Exit.]
LORENZO.
O dear discretion, how his words are suited!
The fool hath planted in his memory
An army of good words, and I do know
A many fools that stand in better place,
Garnish’d like him, that for a tricksy word
Defy the matter. How cheer’st thou, Jessica?
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion,
How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio’s wife?