Venice.
Enter Launcelot alone.† note
Launcelot.
Certainly, my conscience will serve me to run from
this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow,
and tempts me, saying to me, Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo,
good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot
Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away. My
conscience says, no; take heed, honest Launcelot;
take heed, honest Gobbo; or, as aforesaid, honest Launcelot
Gobbo, do not run; scorn running with thy heels.
Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack; via! says
the fiend; away, says the fiend; for the heavens rouse
-- 173 --
up a brave mind, says the fiend, and run. Well, my
conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says
very wisely to me, my honest friend Launcelot, being
an honest man's son, or rather an honest woman's son
—(for indeed, my father did something smack,
something grow to; he had a kind of taste)—
well, my conscience says, budge not; budge, says the
fiend; budge not, says my conscience; conscience,
say I, you counsel ill; fiend, say I, you counsel ill.
-- 174 --
To be rul'd by my conscience, I should stay with the
Jew my master, who, heav'n bless the mark, is a kind of
devil; and to run away from the Jew, I should be
rul'd by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the
devil himself. Certainly, the Jew is the very devil innal;
and in my conscience, my conscience is but a
kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay
with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly
counsel: I will run; fiend, my heels are at your commandment,
I will run.‡ note
Enter old Gobbo, with a Basket.
Gob.
Master young man, you, I pray you, which
is the way to master Jew's?
Laun.
O heav'ns, this is my true begotten father,
who being more than sand-blind, high gravel blind,
knows me not; I will try confusions with him.
Gob.
Master young gentleman, I pray you which
is the way to master Jew's?
-- 175 --
Laun.
Turn up on your right hand, at the next turning,
but at the next turning of all, on your left; marry,
at the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn
down directly to the Jew's house.
Gob.
By heaven's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit.
Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells
with him, dwell with him, or no?
Laun.
Talk you of young master Launcelot? (Mark
me, now, now will I raise the waters:) talk you of
young master Launcelot?
Gob.
No master, sir, but a poor man's son. His
father, though I say't, is an honest exceeding poor
man, and heav'n be thanked, well to live.
Laun.
Well, let his father be what he will, we talk
of young master Launcelot.
Gob.
Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir.
Laun.
But I pray you, ergo, old man; ergo, I beseech
you, talk you of young master Launcelot?
Gob.
Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership.
Laun.
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
heav'n.
Gob.
Marry, heav'n forbid! the boy was the very
staff of my age, my very prop.
Laun.
Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovel-post, a
staff, or a prop? Do you know me, father?
Gob.
Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman;
but I pray you, tell me, is my boy, heav'n rest
his soul, alive or dead?
Laun.
Do you not know me, father?
Gob.
Alack, sir, I am sand-blind, I know you not.
Laun.
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.
-- 176 --
Gob.
Pray you, sir, stand up; I am sure, you are
not Launcelot, my boy.
Laun.
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.
Gob.
I cannot think you are my son.
Laun.
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.
Gob.
Her name is Margery, indeed. I'll be sworn,
if thou be Launcelot, thou art my own flesh and blood.
Lord worship'd 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.
Laun.
It should seem then, that Dobbin's tail grows
backward: I am sure, he had more hair on his tail,
than I have on my face, when I last saw him.
Gob.
Lord, how art thou chang'd! How dost thou
and thy master agree? I have brought him a present.
How agree you, now?
Laun.
Well, well; but for mine own part, as I have
set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest, 'till I
have run some ground. My master's a very Jew:
give him a present! give him a halter. I am famish'd
in his service. You may tell every finger I have with
my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come; give me
your present to one master Bassanio, who, indeed,
gives rare new liveries; If I serve him not, I will run
as far as heav'n has any ground. O rare fortune, here
comes the man. To him, father, for I am a Jew if I
serve the Jew any longer.
Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo, and a follower or two more.
Bass.
You may do so; but let it be so hasted, that
supper be ready, at the farthest, by five of the clock:
see these letters deliver'd, put the liveries to making,
and desire Gratiano to come, anon, to my lodging.
-- 177 --
Laun.
To him, father.
Gob.
Heav'n bless your worship!
Bass.
Gramercy, wouldst thou ought with me?
Gob.
Here's my son, sir, a poor boy—
Laun.
Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man,
that would, sir, as my father shall specify—
Gob.
He hath a great infection, sir, as one would
say, to serve.
Laun.
Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the
Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify—
Gob.
His master and he, saving your worship's reverence,
are scarce cater-cousins.
Laun.
To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew
having done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father,
being, I hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you.
Gob.
I have here a dish of doves, that I would bestow
upon your worship, and my suit is—
Laun.
In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself,
as your worship shall know by this honest old
man; and, though I say it, though old man, yet poor
man, my father.
Bass.
One speak for both. What would you?
Laun.
Serve you, sir.
Gob.
This is the very defect of the matter, sir.
Bass.
I know thee well, thou hast obtain'd thy suit;
Shylock, thy master, spoke with me, this day,
And hath preferr'd thee; if it be preferment
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become
The follower of so poor a gentleman.
Laun.
The old proverb is very well parted, between
my master Shylock and you, sir; you have the grace of
Heav'n, sir, and he hath enough.
Bass.
Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son,
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire
My lodging out; give him a livery,
More guarded than his fellows: see it done.
Laun.
Father, in: I cannot get a service, no! I
have ne'er a tongue in my head! Well, if any man
-- 178 --
in Italy have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear
upon a book, I shall have good fortune. Go to, here's
a simple line of life; here's a small trifle of wives.
Alas, fifteen wives is nothing, eleven widows and nine
maids is a simple coming in for one man! and then to
'scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life
with the edge of a feather-bed, here are simple 'scapes!
Well, if fortune be a woman, she's a good wench, for
this geer. Father, come; I'll take my leave of the
Jew, in the twinkling of an eye.
[Exeunt Laun. and Gob.
Bass.
I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this,
These things being bought, and orderly bestowed,
Return in haste, for I do feast, to-night,
My best esteem'd acquaintance; hie thee, go.
Leon.
My best endeavours shall be done herein.
Enter Gratiano.
Gra.
Where is your master?
Leon.
Yonder, sir, he walks.
[Exit Leonardo.
Gra.
Signior Bassanio,—
Bass.
Gratiano!
Gra.
I have a suit to you.
Bass.
You have obtain'd it.
Gra.
You must not deny me, I must go with you to
Belmont.
Bass.
Why, then you must: but hear thee, Gratiano,
Thou art too wild, too rude and bold of voice;
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appear no faults;
But where thou art not known, why, there they shew
Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain
T' allay with some cold drops of modesty,
Thy skipping spirit; lest through thy wild behaviour,
I be misconstru'd in the place I go to;
And lose my hopes.
Gra.
Signior Bassanio, hear me;
If I do not put on a sober habit,
-- 179 --
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,
Wear prayer-books in my pockets, look demurely;
Nay, more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, Amen!
Ne'er trust me more.
Bass.
Well, we shall see your bearing.
Gra.
Nay, but I bar to-night, you shall not gage me,
By what we do, to-night.
Bass.
No, that were pity.
I would intreat you rather to put on
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends
That purpose merriment: but fare you well,
I have some business.
Gra.
And I must to Lorenzo and the rest:
But we will visit you at supper-time.
[Exeunt.
John Bell [1774], Bell's Edition of Shakespeare's Plays, As they are now performed at the Theatres Royal in London; Regulated from the Prompt Books of each House By Permission; with Notes Critical and Illustrative; By the Authors of the Dramatic Censor (Printed for John Bell... and C. Etherington [etc.], York) [word count] [S10401].
