Venice. A Street.
 Enter LAUNCELOT GOBBO.

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 
	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 commandment. I will run.

                      Enter OLD GOBBO with a basket.

Old 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.

Old 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.

Old 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. [Aloud.] Talk you of young 
	Master Launcelot?

Old 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.

Launcelot	Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of young 
	Master Launcelot.

Old 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?

Old Gobbo	Of Launcelot, and'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.

Old 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? - Do you know me father?

Old 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?

Old 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. Truth will come to light; murder 
	cannot be hid long - a man's son may, but in the end truth 
	will out.

Old 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.

Old 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.

Old 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.

Old 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, and LEONARDO, with a FOLLOWER or two.

Bassanio	You may do so, but let it be so hasted that supper be ready 
	at the furthest by five of the clock. See these letters 
	delivered, put the liveries to making, and desire Gratiano 
	to come anon to my lodging.
											[Exit one of his FOLLOWERS.

Launcelot	To him father.

Old Gobbo	God bless your worship!

Bassanio	Gramercy. Wouldst thou aught with me?

Old 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.

Old 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.

Old 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.

Old 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.

Old Gobbo	That is the very defect of the matter, 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.

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. [To his FOLLOWERS.] 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, [Looking at his palm.] 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; a 'leven 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.
														[Exit, with OLD GOBBO.

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.

Leonardo	My best endeavours shall be done herein.
														[Going.
                             Enter GRATIANO.

Gratiano	Where's your master?

Leonardo							Yonder, sir, he walks.
														[Exit.
Gratiano	Signor Bassanio!

Bassanio	Gratiano!

Gratiano	I have suit to you.

Bassanio								You have obtained 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 behaviour,
	I be misconstered in the place I go to,
	And lose my hopes.

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.

Bassanio	Well, we shall see your bearing.

Gratiano	Nay, but I bar tonight; you shall not gauge me
	By what we 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.

Gratiano	And I must to Lorenzo and the rest;
	But we will visit you at suppertime.
														[Exeunt.
