Internet Shakespeare Editions

Author: William Shakespeare
Editor: Janelle Jenstad
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The Merchant of Venice (Quarto 1, 1600)

545Enter the Clowne alone.
Clowne. Certainely, my conscience will serue me to runne from
this Iewe my Maister: the fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me,
saying to me, Iobbe, Launcelet Jobbe, good Launcelet, or good Iobbe,
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or good Launcelet Iobbe, vse your legges, take the start, runne a-
550way, my conscience sayes no; take heede honest Launcelet, take
heede honest Iobbe, or as afore-saide honest Launcelet Iobbe, doe
not runne, scorne running with thy heeles; well, the most cora-
gious fiend bids me packe, fia sayes the fiend, away sayes the fiend,
for the heauens rouse vp a braue minde sayes the fiend, and runne;
555well, my conscience hanging about the necke of my heart, sayes
very wisely to mee: my honest friend Launcelet beeing an honest
mans sonne, or rather an honest womans sonne, for indeede my
Father did something smacke, something grow to; he had a kinde
of tast; well, my conscience sayes Launcelet bouge not, bouge sayes
560the fiend, bouge not sayes my conscience, conscience say I you
counsaile wel, fiend say I you counsaile well, to be ruld by my con-
science, I should stay with the Iewe my Maister, (who God blesse
the marke) is a kinde of deuill; and to runne away from the Iewe I
should be ruled by the fiend, who sauing your reuerence is the de-
565uill himselfe: certainely the Iewe is the very deuill incarnation, and
in my conscience, my conscience is but a kinde of hard consci-
ence, to offer to counsaile mee to stay with the Iewe; the fiend
giues the more friendly counsaile: I will runne fiend, my heeles
are at your commaundement, I will runne.
570Enter old Gobbo with a basket.
Gobbo. Maister young-man, you I pray you, which is the way
to Maister Iewes?
Launcelet. O heauens, this is my true begotten Father, who be-
ing more then sand blinde, high grauell blinde, knowes me not, I
575will try confusions with him.
Gobbo. Maister young Gentleman, I pray you which is the way
to Maister Iewes.
Launcelet. Turne vp on your right hand at the next turning,
but at the next turning of all on your left; marry at the very next
580turning turne of no hand, but turne downe indirectly to the Iewes
Gobbo. Be Gods sonties twill be a hard way to hit, can you tell
the Merchant of Venice.
mee whether one Launcelet that dwels with him, dwell with him
or no.
585Launcelet. Talke you of young Maister Launcelet, marke mee
nowe, nowe will I raise the waters; talke you of young Maister
Gobbo. No Maister sir, but a poore mans Sonne, his Father
though I say't is an honest exceeding poore man, and God bee
590thanked well to liue.
Launce. Well, let his Father be what a will, wee talke of young
Maister Launcelet.
Gob. Your worships friend and Launcelet sir.
Launce. But I pray you ergo olde man, ergo I beseech you, talke
595you of young Maister Launcelet.
Gob. Of Launcelet ant please your maistership.
Launce. Ergo Maister Launcelet, talke not of maister Launcelet
Father, for the young Gentleman according to fates and deste-
nies, and such odd sayings, the sisters three, and such braunches of
600learning, is indeede deceased, or as you would say in plaine termes,
gone to heauen.
Gobbo. Marry God forbid, the boy was the very staffe of my
age, my very prop.
Launcelet. Doe I looke like a cudgell or a houell post, a staffe,
605or a prop: doe you know me Father.
Gobbo. Alacke the day, I knowe you not young Gentleman,
but I pray you tell mee, is my boy GOD rest his soule aliue or
Launcelet. Doe you not know me Father.
610Gobbo. Alack sir I am sand blind, I know you not.
Launcelet. Nay, in deede if you had your eyes you might fayle
of the knowing mee: it is a wise Father that knowes his owne
childe. Well, olde man, I will tell you newes of your sonne, giue
mee your blessing, trueth will come to light, muder cannot bee
615hidde long, a mannes Sonne may, but in the ende trueth will
Gobbo. Pray you sir stand vp, I am sure you are not Launcelet
my boy.
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Launce. Pray you let's haue no more fooling, about it, but giue
620mee your blessing: I am Launcelet your boy that was, your sonne
that is, your child that shall be.
Gob. I cannot thinke you are my sonne.
Launc. I know not what I shall think of that: but I am Launce-
623.1let the Iewes man, and I am sure Margerie your wife is my mo-
625Gob. Her name is Margerie in deede, ile be sworne if thou bee
Launcelet, thou art mine owne flesh and blood: Lord worshipt
might he be, what a beard hast thou got; thou hast got more haire
on thy chinne, then Dobbin my philhorse hase on his taile.
Launce. It should seeme then that Dobbins taile growes back-
630ward. I am sure hee had more haire of his taile then I haue of my
face when I lost saw him.
Gob. Lord how art thou changd: how doost thou and thy Ma-
ster agree, I haue brought him a present; how gree you now?
Launce. Well, well, but for mine owne part, as I haue set vp my
635rest to runne away, so I will not rest till I haue runne some ground;
my Maister's a very Iewe, giue him a present, giue him a halter, I
am famisht in his seruice. You may tell euery finger I haue with
my ribs: Father I am glad you are come, giue me your present to
one Maister Bassanio, who in deede giues rare newe Lyuories, if I
640serue not him, I will runne as farre as God has any ground. O rare
fortune, heere comes the man, to him Father, for I am a Iewe if I
serue the Iewe any longer.
Enter Bassanio with a follower or two.
Bass. You may doe so, but let it be so hasted that supper be ready
645at the farthest by fiue of the clocke: see these Letters deliuered,
put the Lyueries to making, and desire Gratiano to come anone to
my lodging.
Launce. To him Father.
Gob. God blesse your worship.
650Bass. Gramercie, wouldst thou ought with me.
Gobbe. Heere's my sonne sir, a poore boy.
Launce. Not a poore boy sir, but the rich Iewes man that would
sir as my Father shall specifie.
the Merchant of Venice.
Gob. He hath a great infection sir, as one would say to serue.
655Lau. Indeede the short and the long is, I serue the Iewe, & haue
a desire as my Father shall specifie.
Gob. His Maister and he (sauing your worships reuerence) are
scarce catercosins,
Lau. To be briefe, the very truth is, that the Iewe hauing done
660me wrong, dooth cause me as my Father being I hope an old man
shall frutifie vnto you.
Gob. I haue heere a dish of Doues that I would bestow vppon
your worship, and my sute is.
Lau. In very briefe, the sute is impertinent to my selfe, as your
665worship shall knowe by this honest old man, and though I say it,
though old man, yet poore man my Father.
Bass. One speake for both, what would you?
Laun. Serue you sir.
Gob. That is the very defect of the matter sir.
670Bass. I know thee well, thou hast obtaind thy sute,
Shylocke thy Maister spoke with me this day,
And hath preferd thee, if it be preferment
To leaue a rich Iewes seruice, to become
The follower of so poore a Gentleman.
675Clowne. The old prouerb is very well parted betweene my Maister
Shylocke and you sir, you haue the grace of God sir, and hee
hath enough.
Bass. Thou speakst it well; goe Father with thy Sonne
Take leaue of thy old Maister, and enquire
680My lodging out, giue him a Lyuerie
More garded then his fellowes: see it done.
Clowne. Father in, I cannot get a seruice, no, I haue nere a tong
in my head, wel: if any man in Italy haue a fayrer table which
dooth offer to sweare vpon a booke, I shall haue good fortune;
685goe too, heere's a simple lyne of life, heeres a small tryfle of wiues,
alas, fifteene wiues is nothing, a leuen widdowes and nine maydes
is a simple comming in for one man, and then to scape drowning
thrice, and to be in perrill of my life with the edge of a featherbed,
heere are simple scapes: well, if Fortune be a woman she's a good
690wench for this gere: Father come, ile take my leaue of the Iewe in
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the twinkling. Exit Clowne.
Bass. I pray thee good Leonardo thinke on this,
These things being bought and orderly bestowed
Returne in hast, for I doe feast to night
695My best esteemd acquaintance, hie thee goe.
Leon. My best endeuours shall be done heerein. Exit Leonardo.
Enter Gratiano.
Grati. Where's your Maister.
Leonar. Yonder sir he walkes.
700Grati. Signior Bassanio.
Bass. Gratiano.
Gra. I haue sute to you.
Bass. You haue obtaind it.
Gra. You must not deny me, I must goe with you to Belmont.
705Bass. Why then you must but heare thee Gratiano,
Thou art to wild, to rude, and bold of voyce,
Parts that become thee happily enough,
And in such eyes as ours appeare not faults
But where thou art not knowne; why there they show
710Somthing too liberall, pray thee take paine
To allay with some cold drops of modestie
Thy skipping spirit, least through thy wild behauiour
I be misconstred in the place I goe to,
And loose my hopes.
715Gra. Signor Bassanio, heare me,
Yf I doe not put on a sober habite,
Talke with respect, and sweare but now and than,
Weare prayer bookes in my pocket, looke demurely,
Nay more, while grace is saying hood mine eyes
720Thus with my hat, and sigh and say amen:
Vse all the obseruance of ciuillity
Like one well studied in a sad ostent
To please his Grandam, neuer trust me more.
Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing.
725Gra. Nay but I barre to night, you shall not gage me
By what we doe to night.
Bass. No that were pitty,
I would
the Merchant of Venice.
I would intreate you rather to put on
Your boldest sute of mirth, for we haue friends
730That purpose merriment: but far you well,
I haue some busines.
Gra. And I must to Lorenso and the rest,
But we will visite you at supper time. Exeunt.