As any comer I have looked on yet For my affection. Morocco. Even for that I thank you : I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, Which is the better man, the greater throw And so may I, blind fortune leading me, Portia. You must take your chance, And either not attempt to choose at all Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong Never to speak to lady afterward In way of marriage: therefore be advised. Morocco. Nor will not. Come bring me unto my chance. Portia. First, forward to the temple: after dinner Your hazard shall be made. Morocco. To make me blest or cursed'st among men. Good fortune then! [Cornets, and exeunt. 45 SCENE II. Venice. A Street. 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 5 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 10 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; well, my con- 15 science 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 20 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 25 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. 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, highgravel blind, knows me not: I will try confusions with him. 30 Gobbo. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which 35 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? 40 Launcelot. Talk you of young Master Launcelot ? [Aside] Mark me now; now I will raise the waters. 45 [To him] 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 50 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 55 indeed deceased, or, as you would say in plain terms, 60 gone to heaven. Gobbo. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop. Launcelot. [Aside] Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? [To him] Do you know 65 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? 70 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. [Kneels] Give me your blessing: 75 truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son may, but in the end 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 80 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 85 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 worshiped might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin 90 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 95 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: 100 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 105 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 110 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, would'st 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. 115 Gobbo. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would 120 say, to serve — Launcelot. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify. |