Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare
Act 2 - Scene 2
Venice. A street.
Launcelot Gobbo : Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from
[p]this Jew my
master. The fiend is at mine elbow and
[p]tempts me saying to me
'Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good
[p]Launcelot,' or 'good Gobbo,' or good
Launcelot
[p]Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away.
My
[p]conscience says 'No; take heed,' honest Launcelot;
[p]take heed,
honest Gobbo, or, as aforesaid, 'honest
[p]Launcelot Gobbo; do not
run; scorn running with thy
[p]heels.' Well, the most courageous fiend
bids me
[p]pack: 'Via!' says the fiend; 'away!' says the
[p]fiend;
'for the heavens, rouse up a brave mind,'
[p]says the fiend, 'and
run.' Well, my conscience,
[p]hanging about the neck of my heart, says
very wisely
[p]to me 'My honest friend Launcelot, being an
honest
[p]man's son,' or rather an honest woman's son; for,
[p]indeed,
my father did something smack, something
[p]grow to, he had a kind of
taste; well, my conscience
[p]says 'Launcelot, budge not.' 'Budge,'
says the
[p]fiend. 'Budge not,' says my conscience.
[p]'Conscience,'
say I, 'you counsel well;' ' Fiend,'
[p]say I, 'you counsel well:' to
be ruled by my
[p]conscience, I should stay with the Jew my
master,
[p]who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil; and, to
[p]run
away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the
[p]fiend, who, saving your
reverence, is the devil
[p]himself. Certainly the Jew is the very
devil
[p]incarnal; and, in my conscience, my conscience is
[p]but a
kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel
[p]me to stay with the
Jew. The fiend gives the more
[p]friendly counsel: I will run, fiend;
my heels are
[p]at your command; I will run.
Old Gobbo : Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way
[p]to master
Jew's?
Launcelot Gobbo : [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten father!
[p]who, being more
than sand-blind, high-gravel blind,
[p]knows me not: I will try
confusions with him.
Old Gobbo : Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way
[p]to master
Jew's?
Launcelot Gobbo : Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but,
[p]at the next
turning of all, on your left; marry, at
[p]the very next turning, turn
of no hand, but turn
[p]down indirectly to the Jew's house.
Old Gobbo : By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can
[p]you tell me
whether one Launcelot,
[p]that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?
Launcelot Gobbo : Talk you of young Master Launcelot?
[p][Aside]
[p]Mark me now; now
will I raise the waters. Talk you
[p]of young Master Launcelot?
Old Gobbo : No master, sir, but a poor man's son: his father,
[p]though I say it,
is an honest exceeding poor man
[p]and, God be thanked, well to live.
Launcelot Gobbo : Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of
[p]young Master
Launcelot.
Old Gobbo : Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir.
Launcelot Gobbo : But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you,
[p]talk you of
young Master Launcelot?
Old Gobbo : Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership.
Launcelot Gobbo : Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master
[p]Launcelot, father; for
the young gentleman,
[p]according to Fates and Destinies and such
odd
[p]sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of
[p]learning, is
indeed deceased, or, as you would say
[p]in plain terms, gone to
heaven.
Old Gobbo : Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my
[p]age, my very
prop.
Launcelot Gobbo : Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or
[p]a prop? Do you
know me, father?
Old Gobbo : Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman:
[p]but, I pray you,
tell me, is my boy, God rest his
[p]soul, alive or dead?
Launcelot Gobbo : Do you not know me, father?
Old Gobbo : Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not.
Launcelot Gobbo : Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of
[p]the knowing
me: it is a wise father that knows his
[p]own child. Well, old man, I
will tell you news of
[p]your son: give me your blessing: truth will
come
[p]to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son
[p]may, but
at the length truth will out.
Old Gobbo : Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not
[p]Launcelot, my boy.
Launcelot Gobbo : Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but
[p]give me your
blessing: I am Launcelot, your boy
[p]that was, your son that is, your
child that shall
[p]be.
Old Gobbo : I cannot think you are my son.
Launcelot Gobbo : I know not what I shall think of that: but I am
[p]Launcelot, the
Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your
[p]wife is my mother.
Old Gobbo : Her name is Margery, indeed: I'll be sworn, if thou
[p]be Launcelot,
thou art mine own flesh and blood.
[p]Lord worshipped might he be!
what a beard hast thou
[p]got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin
than
[p]Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail.
Launcelot Gobbo : It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows
[p]backward: I am sure
he had more hair of his tail
[p]than I have of my face when I last saw
him.
Old Gobbo : Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy
[p]master agree? I
have brought him a present. How
[p]'gree you now?
Launcelot Gobbo : Well, well: but, for mine own part, as I have set
[p]up my rest to run
away, so I will not rest till I
[p]have run some ground. My master's a
very Jew: give
[p]him a present! give him a halter: I am famished
in
[p]his service; you may tell every finger I have with
[p]my ribs.
Father, I am glad you are come: give me
[p]your present to one Master
Bassanio, who, indeed,
[p]gives rare new liveries: if I serve not him,
I
[p]will run as far as God has any ground. O rare
[p]fortune! here
comes the man: to him, father; for I
[p]am a Jew, if I serve the Jew
any longer.
Bassanio : You may do so; but let it be so hasted that supper
[p]be ready at the
farthest by five of the clock. See
[p]these letters delivered; put the
liveries to making,
[p]and desire Gratiano to come anon to my
lodging.
Launcelot Gobbo : To him, father.
Old Gobbo : God bless your worship!
Bassanio : Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me?
Old Gobbo : Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,--
Launcelot Gobbo : Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; that
[p]would, sir, as my
father shall specify--
Old Gobbo : He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve--
Launcelot Gobbo : Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew,
[p]and have a
desire, as my father shall specify--
Old Gobbo : His master and he, saving your worship's reverence,
[p]are scarce
cater-cousins--
Launcelot Gobbo : To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having
[p]done me wrong,
doth cause me, as my father, being, I
[p]hope, an old man, shall
frutify unto you--
Old Gobbo : I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon
[p]your worship,
and my suit is--
Launcelot Gobbo : In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, as
[p]your worship
shall know by this honest old man; and,
[p]though I say it, though old
man, yet poor man, my father.
Bassanio : One speak for both. What would you?
Launcelot Gobbo : Serve you, sir.
Old Gobbo : That is the very defect of the matter, sir.
Bassanio : I know thee well; thou hast obtain'd thy suit:
[p]Shylock thy master
spoke with me this day,
[p]And hath preferr'd thee, if it be
preferment
[p]To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
[p]The follower
of so poor a gentleman.
Launcelot Gobbo : The old proverb is very well parted between my
[p]master Shylock and
you, sir: you have the grace of
[p]God, sir, and he hath enough.
Bassanio : Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son.
[p]Take leave of thy
old master and inquire
[p]My lodging out. Give him a livery
[p]More
guarded than his fellows': see it done.
Launcelot Gobbo : Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have
[p]ne'er a tongue in my
head. Well, if any man in
[p]Italy have a fairer table which doth
offer to swear
[p]upon a book, I shall have good fortune. Go
to,
[p]here's a simple line of life: here's a small trifle
[p]of
wives: alas, fifteen wives is nothing! eleven
[p]widows and nine maids
is a simple coming-in for one
[p]man: and then to 'scape drowning
thrice, and to be
[p]in peril of my life with the edge of a
feather-bed;
[p]here are simple scapes. Well, if Fortune be
a
[p]woman, she's a good wench for this gear. Father,
[p]come; I'll
take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye.
Bassanio : I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this:
[p]These things being
bought and orderly bestow'd,
[p]Return in haste, for I do feast
to-night
[p]My best-esteem'd acquaintance: hie thee, go.
Leonardo : My best endeavours shall be done herein.
Gratiano : Where is your master?
Leonardo : Yonder, sir, he walks.
Gratiano : Signior Bassanio!
Bassanio : Gratiano!
Gratiano : I have a suit to you.
Bassanio : You have obtain'd it.
Gratiano : You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont.
Bassanio : Why then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano;
[p]Thou art too wild, too
rude and bold of voice;
[p]Parts that become thee happily
enough
[p]And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;
[p]But where
thou art not known, why, there they show
[p]Something too liberal.
Pray thee, take pain
[p]To allay with some cold drops of
modesty
[p]Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behavior
[p]I be
misconstrued in the place I go to,
[p]And lose my hopes.
Gratiano : Signior Bassanio, hear me:
[p]If I do not put on a sober
habit,
[p]Talk with respect and swear but now and then,
[p]Wear
prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely,
[p]Nay more, while grace is
saying, hood mine eyes
[p]Thus with my hat, and sigh and say
'amen,'
[p]Use all the observance of civility,
[p]Like one well
studied in a sad ostent
[p]To please his grandam, never trust me
more.
Bassanio : Well, we shall see your bearing.
Gratiano : Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge me
[p]By what we do
to-night.
Bassanio : No, that were pity:
[p]I would entreat you rather to put on
[p]Your
boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
[p]That purpose merriment.
But fare you well:
[p]I have some business.
Gratiano : And I must to Lorenzo and the rest:
[p]But we will visit you at
supper-time.
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Next: Act 2 - Scene 3
