Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand-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 070 child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son: [071] give me your blessing: truth will come to light; murder [072] cannot be hid long; a man’s son may; but, at the length, [073] truth will out.
Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not 075 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 son that is, your child that shall be.
Gob. I cannot think you are my son.
080 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 mine own flesh and blood. [085] Lord worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my [087] fill-horse has on his tail.
Laun. It should seem, then, that Dobbin’s tail grows backward: I am sure he had more hair of his tail than [090] I have of my face when I last saw him.
Gob. Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. [093] How ’gree you now?
Laun. Well, well: but, for mine own part, as I have 095 set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground. My master’s a very Jew: give him a present! give him a halter: I am famished in his service; [098] you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come: give me your present to one 100 Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries: if [101] 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 [103] I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer.