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 at the length truth will out.