SCENE II. Venice. A street. The Merchant of Venice  Shakespeare homepage  |  Merchant of Venice  | Act 2, Scene 2 

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 Enter LAUNCELOT  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 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 

 incarnal; 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. 



 Enter Old GOBBO, with a basket  GOBBO  Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way 

 to master Jew's? 

 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. 

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

 to master 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. 

 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? 

 LAUNCELOT  Talk you of young Master Launcelot? 



 Aside  Mark me now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you 

 of young Master Launcelot? 

 GOBBO  No master, sir, but a poor man's son: his father, 

 though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man 

 and, God be thanked, well to live. 

 LAUNCELOT  Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of 

 young Master Launcelot. 

 GOBBO  Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir. 

 LAUNCELOT  But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, 

 talk you of young Master Launcelot? 

 GOBBO  Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. 

 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. 

 GOBBO  Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my 

 age, my very prop. 

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

 a prop? Do you know 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? 

 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 at the length 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 fill-horse has on 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. 

 GOBBO  Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy 

 master agree? I have brought him a present. How 

 'gree you now? 

 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. 



 Enter BASSANIO, with LEONARDO and other followers  BASSANIO  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. 



 Exit a Servant  LAUNCELOT  To him, father. 

 GOBBO  God bless your worship! 

 BASSANIO  Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me? 

 GOBBO  Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,-- 

 LAUNCELOT  Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; that 

 would, sir, as my father shall specify-- 

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

 LAUNCELOT  Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, 

 and have a desire, as my father shall specify-- 

 GOBBO  His master and he, saving your worship's reverence, 

 are scarce cater-cousins-- 

 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-- 

 GOBBO  I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon 

 your worship, and my suit is-- 

 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. 

 BASSANIO  One speak for both. What would you? 

 LAUNCELOT  Serve you, sir. 

 GOBBO  That is the very defect of the matter, sir. 

 BASSANIO  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. 

 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. 

 BASSANIO  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. 

 LAUNCELOT  Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have 

 ne'er a tongue in my head. 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 of an eye. 



 Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo  BASSANIO  I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this: 

 These things being bought and orderly bestow'd, 

 Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 

 My best-esteem'd acquaintance: hie thee, go. 

 LEONARDO  My best endeavours shall be done herein. 



 Enter GRATIANO  GRATIANO  Where is your master? 

 LEONARDO  Yonder, sir, he walks. 



 Exit  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; 

 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 misconstrued in the place I go to, 

 And lose my hopes. 

 GRATIANO  Signior 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. 

 BASSANIO  Well, we shall see your bearing. 

 GRATIANO  Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge me 

 By what we do to-night. 

 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. 

 GRATIANO  And I must to Lorenzo and the rest: 

 But we will visit you at supper-time. 



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