Act II

I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so:

Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil,

Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness.

But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee:

And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see

Lorenzo, who is thy new master’s guest:

Give him this letter; do it secretly;

And so farewell: I would not have my father

See me in talk with thee.

Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew! if a Christian did not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceived. But, adieu: these foolish drops do something drown my manly spirit: adieu.