34
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.
GOBBO. Pray you, sir, stand up; I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy.
LAUNCELOT. Pray you, let ' s have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing; I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be.
GOBBO. I cannot think you are my son.
LAUNCELOT. I know not what I shall think of that; but I am Launcelot, the Jew ' s man, and I am sure Margery your wife is my mother.
GOBBO. Her name is Margery, indeed: I ' ll be sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord worshipped might he be, what a beard hast thou got! Thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my thill-horse has on his tail.
LAUNCELOT. It should seem, then, that Dobbin ' s tail grows backward;