Jes.
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 farewel; I would not have my father
See me talk with thee.

Laun.
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 deceiv'd: but, adieu! these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly spirit; adieu!

Jes.
Farewel, good Launcelot.—
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me,
To be asham'd to be my father's child!
But though I am a daughter to his blood,
I am not to his manners: O Lorenzo,
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife;
Become a christian, and thy loving wife. [Exit.

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