The Merchant of Venice

Act 2, Scene 2

Enter LAUNCELOT the clown, alone

LAUNCELOT enters alone.

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. “Fia!” says the fiend. “Away!” says the fiend. “For the heavens, rouse 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, “Launcelot, budge not.” “Budge!” says the fiend. “Budge not,” says my conscience. “Conscience,” say I, “you counsel well.” “Fiend,” say I, “you counsel well.” To be ruled by my conscience I should stay with the Jew my master, who, God bless the mark, is a kind of devil. And to run away from the Jew I should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnation. 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 command. I will run.

LAUNCELOT

I’m sure I’ll feel guilty if I run away from this Jew, my master. The devil’s on my shoulder, tempting me. He’s saying, “Gobbo,” “Launcelot Gobbo,” “Good Launcelot,” or “Good Gobbo,” or “Good Launcelot Gobbo”—“use your legs and run away.” But my conscience says, “No, Launcelot, calm down, don’t run away.” The devil’s urging me to leave. “Go away!” he says. “Run away! Be tough,” says the devil, “and run!” But then my conscience, hanging around my heart, says very wisely to me, “My good friend Launcelot, you’re a good boy, the son of an honest man,” really, that should be the son of an honest woman, since my father cheated on my mother. Anyway, my conscience says, “Stay put.” “Go,” the devil says. “Don’t go,” says my conscience. “Conscience,” I say, “you give good advice.” “Devil,” I say, “you give good advice.” If I listened to my conscience, I’d stay with the Jew my master, who’s a devil. But if I ran away from the Jew, I’d be following the advice of the devil, who’s the very devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the devil incarnate, and my conscience is giving me a hard time by telling me to stay with the Jew. The devil’s advice is nicer. I’ll run, devil. Tell me to run, and I’ll run.

Enter Old GOBBO with a basket

GOBBO enters with a basket.

GOBBO

Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to

Master Jew’s?

GOBBO

Excuse me, young man, how do I get to the Jew’s residence?

LAUNCELOT

(aside) O heavens, this is my true-begotten father, who, being more than sand-blind—high-gravel blind—knows me not. I will try confusions with him.

LAUNCELOT

(to himself) Good heavens, it’s my father. He doesn’t recognize me because he’s half-blind—or more than half-blind, somewhere between half-blind and totally blind. I’ll play a little game with him.

GOBBO

Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to

Master Jew’s?

GOBBO

Young man, excuse me, how do I get to the Jew’s?

LAUNCELOT

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 indirectly to the Jew’s house.

LAUNCELOT

Turn right at the next turn, but at the following turn, turn left. Oh, and then at the very next turn, don’t turn left or right, but turn down and around to the Jew’s house.

GOBBO

By God’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?

GOBBO

Good heavens, those are difficult directions. Can you tell me if a man named Launcelot, who lives with him, is still there?

LAUNCELOT

Talk you of young Master Launcelot? (aside) Mark me now. Now will I raise the waters.—Talk you of young Master Launcelot?

LAUNCELOT

Are you talking about young Master Launcelot? (speaking so no one else can hear) Watch out, I’m going to pull a good prank here.—Is that who you’re talking about?

GOBBO

No “master,” sir, but a poor man’s son. His father, though I say ’t, is an honest exceeding poor man and, God be thanked, well to live.

GOBBO

He’s not a “master,” sir, he’s just a poor man’s son. His father, if I do say so myself, is an honest but very poor man, and, thank God, likely to live a long time.

LAUNCELOT

Well, let his father be what he will, we talk of young

Master Launcelot.

LAUNCELOT

Well, his father can be whatever he wants to be. We’re talking about young Master Launcelot.

GOBBO

Your worship’s friend and Launcelot, sir.

GOBBO

Please don’t call him that, sir. He’s just Launcelot.

LAUNCELOT

But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot?

LAUNCELOT

But excuse me, ergo, old man, ergo, I’m asking you if you’re talking about young Master Launcelot.

GOBBO

Of Launcelot, an ’t please your mastership.

GOBBO

Yes, I’m talking about Launcelot, sir.

LAUNCELOT

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 heaven.

LAUNCELOT

Ergo , Master Launcelot. But please don’t talk about Master Launcelot, old man. The young gentleman, submitting to the fates, the three sisters who control destiny, and other branches of learning like that, is deceased. Or, to put it in plain language, he’s gone to heaven.

GOBBO

Marry, God forbid! The boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop.

GOBBO

Oh, no. God forbid! The boy was going to support me in my old age!

LAUNCELOT

Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop?

Do you know me, Father?

LAUNCELOT

What am I, a cane? How could I support anyone? Don’t you recognize me, father?

GOBBO

Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman. But I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his soul, alive or dead?

GOBBO

Heaven help me, I don’t know you, sir. But please tell me, is my boy—God rest his soul—alive or dead?

LAUNCELOT

Do you not know me, Father?

LAUNCELOT

You really don’t recognize me, father?

GOBBO

Alack, sir, I am sand-blind. I know you not.

GOBBO

Sir, I’m half-blind. I don’t know you.

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.

LAUNCELOT

Even if you had your eyes, you still might not recognize me. It takes a wise father to know his own child. Well, old man, I’ll tell you news of your son. Give me your blessing. The truth will come to light, and murder can’t be hidden long—a man’s son may hide, but truth will always come out.

GOBBO

Pray you, sir, stand up. I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy.

GOBBO

Please stand up! I’m sure you aren’t 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.

LAUNCELOT

Come on, quit fooling around. Give me your blessing. I’m Launcelot, who was your boy, is your son, and will be your child.

GOBBO

I cannot think you are my son.

GOBBO

I can’t believe you’re 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.

LAUNCELOT

I don’t know what to say to that, but the fact is I’m Launcelot, the Jew’s servant, and 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. (feels theback of LAUNCELOT’s head) Lord worshipped might he be, what a beard hast thou got! Thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has on his tail.

GOBBO

Yes, you’re right, her name is Margery. If you’re Launcelot, then you’re my own flesh and blood. (feels the back of LAUNCELOT’s head) My Lord, what a bushy beard you have! You’ve got more hair on your chin than Dobbin my horse has in his tail.

LAUNCELOT

It should seem then that Dobbin’s tail grows backward. I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I have of my face when I last saw him.

LAUNCELOT

Then Dobbin’s tail must be growing backward. I’m sure he had more hair on his tail than I have on my face when I last saw him.

GOBBO

Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. How ’gree you now?

GOBBO

Lord, how you’ve changed! How are you and your master getting along? I’ve brought him a present. How are you?

LAUNCELOT

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 famished 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 not him, I will run as far as God 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.

LAUNCELOT

I’m all right. But I’ve decided to run away, and I can’t wait to get going. My master’s a total Jew. You’re giving him a present? Give him a noose to hang himself. He’s starving me to death. You can see my ribs so well you can count them. I’m glad you’ve come, father. Give me your present to give to Master Bassanio. He gives his servants beautiful new uniforms. If I can’t get a job with him, I’ll run away to the ends of the earth.—Oh look, this is lucky, here comes Master Bassanio now.—Let’s go talk to him, Father. If I work for the Jew any longer, you can just call me a Jew.

Enter BASSANIO with LEONARDO and another follower or two

BASSANIO enters with LEONARDO and an attendant or two.

BASSANIO

(to a follower) 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 delivered, put the liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

BASSANIO

(to an attendant) All right, go ahead. But do everything quickly. Supper must be ready at five at the latest. Make sure these letters get delivered, get the uniforms made, and tell Gratiano to come visit me soon.

Exit follower

The attendant exits.

LAUNCELOT

To him, Father.

LAUNCELOT

Go talk to him, father.

GOBBO

(to BASSANIO) God bless your worship!

GOBBO

(to BASSANIO) God bless you, sir!

BASSANIO

Gramercy! Wouldst thou aught with me?

BASSANIO

Thank you. What do you want with me?

GOBBO

Here’s my son, sir, a poor boy—

GOBBO

This is my son, sir. He’s a poor boy—

LAUNCELOT

Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew’s man that would, sir, as my father shall specify—

LAUNCELOT

Not a poor boy, but the rich Jew’s servant, who wants, as my father will explain—

GOBBO

He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve—

GOBBO

He wants very much, sir, as one might say, to work for—

LAUNCELOT

Indeed the short and the long is, I serve the Jew and have a desire, as my father shall specify—

LAUNCELOT

To put it briefly, I work for the Jew, and I want, as my father will tell you—

GOBBO

His master and he, saving your worship’s reverence, are scarce cater-cousins—

GOBBO

He and his master aren’t exactly friends—

LAUNCELOT

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—

LAUNCELOT

To be brief, the truth is that the Jew has done me wrong, and that forces me to—as my father, an old man, will inform you—

GOBBO

I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your worship, and my suit is—

GOBBO

I have a present I’d like to give you, sir. And I want to request that—

LAUNCELOT

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—

LAUNCELOT

To make a long story short, the request is about me, as this good old man will tell you. Even though I’m his son and I’m the one saying it, this old man is a poor man—

BASSANIO

One speak for both. What would you?

BASSANIO

One of you do the talking. What do you want?

LAUNCELOT

Serve you, sir.

LAUNCELOT

To work for you, sir.

GOBBO

That is the very defect of the matter, sir.

GOBBO

That’s what we’re trying to say, sir.

BASSANIO

I know thee well. Thou hast obtained thy suit.

Shylock thy master spoke with me this day,

And hath preferred thee, if it be preferment

To leave a rich Jew’s service, to become

The follower of so poor a gentleman.

BASSANIO

I know who you are. You can have what you want. I spoke with your master Shylock today, and he recommended you to me. If you want to leave a rich Jew to work for a poor gentleman, you’re welcome to.

LAUNCELOT

The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir—you have “the grace of God,” sir, and he hath “enough.”

LAUNCELOT

Do you know the old proverb “The grace of God is enough,” sir? It could be divided between you and my boss Shylock—you have “the grace of God,” and he has “enough.”

BASSANIO

Thou speak’st it well.—Go, father, with thy son.—

Take leave of thy old master and inquire

My lodging out.—

(to followers)

Give him a livery

More guarded than his fellows’. See it done.

BASSANIO

Nicely put.—Go with your son, old man.—Say goodbye to your old master and find your way to my house. (to attendants) Give him a uniform that’s a little nicer than the others. Make sure it gets done.

LAUNCELOT

Father, in. I cannot get a service, no. I have ne’er a tongue in my head. (reading his own palm) Well, if any man 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 gear.—Father, come. I’ll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling.

LAUNCELOT

Father, go ahead. I can’t get a job, can I? I can’t talk well, no. (reading his own palm) If any man in Italy has a palm good enough to swear on a Bible with, it’s me. I’ve got very good luck! Here’s my life line. It shows a few wives—fifteen wives is nothing. Eleven widows and nine maids is a humble beginning for one man. It seems I’ll almost drown three times, and my life will be in danger when I’m caught in bed with another man’s wife! But these little lines are the escape routes I can take to get out of that one. If luck’s a lady, she’s good at this business. Father, let’s go. I’ll leave the Jew behind in the blink of an eye.

Exit LAUNCELOT the clown with Old GOBBO

LAUNCELOT and GOBBO exit.

BASSANIO

I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this.

These things being bought and orderly bestowed,

Return in haste, for I do feast tonight

My best esteemed acquaintance. Hie thee, go.

BASSANIO

Please, Leonardo, think about this (he hands him a piece of paper). These things have been bought and are ready. Hurry back here. I’m having dinner tonight with someone I greatly respect. Go now.

LEONARDO

My best endeavours shall be done herein.

LEONARDO

I’ll do my best.

Enter GRATIANO

GRATIANO enters.

GRATIANO

(to LEONARDO) Where is your master?

GRATIANO

(to LEONARDO) Where’s your master?

LEONARDO

Yonder, sir, he walks.

LEONARDO

He’s walking over there, sir.

Exit LEONARDO

LEONARDO exits.

GRATIANO

Signor Bassanio!

GRATIANO

Signor Bassanio!

BASSANIO

Gratiano!

BASSANIO

Gratiano!

GRATIANO

I have a suit to you.

GRATIANO

I have a favor to ask.

BASSANIO

You have obtained it.

BASSANIO

Anything.

GRATIANO

You must not deny me. I must go with you to Belmont.

GRATIANO

Don’t say no. Let me go with you to Belmont.

BASSANIO

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 not faults.

But where thou art not known, why, there they show

Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain

To allay with some cold drops of modesty

Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behavior

I be misconst’red in the place I go to,

And lose my hopes.

BASSANIO

Well, if you have to go, you have to go. But listen to me, Gratiano. Sometimes you get a bit too wild, and you let your voice get a bit loud and rude. These things look good on you, of course, and to people like you and me there’s nothing wrong with it. But in places where people don’t know you, your behavior might seem too wild. Please, try to act a little more serious, or the people in Belmont will get the wrong impression about me, and your wildness will make me blow my chance with Portia.

GRATIANO

Signor Bassanio, hear me.

If I do not put on a sober habit,

Talk with respect and swear but now and then,

Wear prayer books in my pocket, look demurely—

Nay more. While grace is saying, hood mine eyes

Thus with my hat, and sigh and say, “Amen”—

Use all the observance of civility

Like one well studied in a sad ostent

To please his grandam, never trust me more.

GRATIANO

Listen, Signor Bassanio, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be solemn-looking, I’ll talk with respect, and I’ll only swear once in a while. I’ll carry prayer books in my pocket and look sweet—even more. While grace is being said, I’ll be modest and say “amen”—I’ll watch my manners as if I’m trying to please my grandma. If I don’t do all this, never trust me again.

BASSANIO

Well, we shall see your bearing.

BASSANIO

Well, we’ll see how you act.

GRATIANO

Nay, but I bar tonight. You shall not gauge me

By what we do tonight.

GRATIANO

Okay, but tonight doesn’t count. You can’t judge me based on what I do tonight.

BASSANIO

No, that were pity.

I would entreat 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.

BASSANIO

No, it’d be a shame for you to act serious tonight. I’d rather see you having fun, because we have friends coming who want to have fun. Anyway, I have to say goodbye to you now. I’ve got some business to take care of.

GRATIANO

And I must to Lorenzo and the rest.

But we will visit you at supper time.

GRATIANO

I have to join Lorenzo and the others, but we’ll visit you at supper time.

Exeunt severally

They exit.