GOBBO.
Master young man, you, I pray you; which is the way to Master
Jew's?
LAUNCELOT.
[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?
LAUNCELOT.
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 Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or
no?
LAUNCELOT.
Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Aside] Mark me
now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of young Master
Launcelot?
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.
LAUNCELOT.
Well, let his father be what 'a will, we talk of young
Master Launcelot.
GOBBO.
Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, sir.
