William Shakespeare: The Merchant of Venice

ACT 2. SCENE 2. Venice. A street (continued)

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.

LAUNCELOT.
But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk
you of young Master Launcelot?

GOBBO.
Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership.

LAUNCELOT.
Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master Launcelot,
father; for the young gentleman,--according to Fates and
Destinies
and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of
learning,--is indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain
terms, gone to heaven.

GOBBO.
Marry, God forbid! The boy was the very staff of my age, my
very prop.

LAUNCELOT.
Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? Do
you know me, father?

GOBBO.
Alack the day! I know you not, young gentleman; but I pray
you tell me, is my boy--God rest his soul!--alive or dead?

LAUNCELOT.
Do you not know me, father?

GOBBO.
Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not.

LAUNCELOT.
Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the
knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his own child. Well,
old man, I will tell you news of your son. Give me your blessing;
truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son
may, but in the end truth will out.