66

SCENE II

Venice. A street.

Enter LAUNCELOT.

ΙΟ

Laun. 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 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 20 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.

Gob. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is
the way to master Jew's?

Laun. [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten
father! who, being more than sand-blind, high-
gravel blind, knows me not. I will try con-
fusions with him.
Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is
the way to master Jew's?
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 indirectly to the Jew's
house.

Gob. 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?

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Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Aside]
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 it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well to live. Laun. Well, let his father be what a' 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 heaven. Gob. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop.

Laun. [Aside] Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? [Aloud] Do you know me, father?

Gob. 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?

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

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knows his own child.

Well, old man, I will

tell you news of your son. Give me your bless-
ing; truth will come to light; murder cannot
be hid long; a man's son may, but, in the end,
truth will out.

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 90
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 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 100
on his tail.

Laun. 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.

Gob. Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. How 'gree 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 110

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.

120

Enter BASSANIO, with LEONARDO and other followers.

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 delivered; put the liveries to making; and desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging.

Laun. To him, father.

Gob. God bless your worship!

[Exit a Servant.

Bass. Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me?

Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,

Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; 130 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,-