The Complete Works of William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare (moboreader .TXT) 📕

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 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 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 worshipp’d 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 chang’d! 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 famish’d 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, with a FOLLOWER or two 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. [To a SERVANT] 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! [Looking on his palm] 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; 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.

Exeunt LAUNCELOT and 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 esteem’d acquaintance; hie thee, go.

LEONARDO. My best endeavours shall be done herein.

Enter GRATIANO

GRATIANO. Where’s your master?

LEONARDO. Yonder, sir, he walks. Exit GRATIANO. Signior Bassanio!

BASSANIO. Gratiano!

GRATIANO. I have 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 behaviour I be misconst’red 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 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

SCENE III.

Venice. SHYLOCK’S house

Enter JESSICA and LAUNCELOT

JESSICA. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so.

Our house is hell; and thou, a merry devil, Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness.

But fare thee well; there is a ducat for thee; And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see Lorenzo, who is thy new master’s guest.

Give him this letter; do it secretly.

And so farewell. I would not have my father See me in talk with thee.

LAUNCELOT. Adieu! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beautiful pagan, most sweet Jew! If a Christian do not play the knave and get thee, I am much deceived. But, adieu! these foolish drops do something drown my manly spirit; adieu!

JESSICA. Farewell, good Launcelot. Exit LAUNCELOT

Alack, what heinous sin is it in me

To be asham’d to be my father’s child!

But though I am a daughter to his blood, I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo,

If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, Become a Christian and thy loving wife. Exit

SCENE IV.

Venice. A street

Enter GRATIANO, LORENZO, SALERIO, and SOLANIO

LORENZO. Nay, we will slink away in suppertime, Disguise us at my lodging, and return All in an hour.

GRATIANO. We have not made good preparation.

SALERIO. We have not spoke us yet of torchbearers.

SOLANIO. ‘Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly ordered; And better in my mind not undertook.

LORENZO. ‘Tis now but four o’clock; we have two hours To furnish us.

Enter LAUNCELOT, With a letter Friend Launcelot, what’s the news?

LAUNCELOT. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall seem to signify.

LORENZO. I know the hand; in faith, ‘tis a fair hand, And whiter than the paper it writ on

Is the fair hand that writ.

GRATIANO. Love-news, in faith!

LAUNCELOT. By your leave, sir.

LORENZO. Whither goest thou?

LAUNCELOT. Marry, sir, to bid my old master, the Jew, to sup tonight with my new master, the Christian.

LORENZO. Hold, here, take this. Tell gentle Jessica I will not fail her; speak it privately.

Go, gentlemen, Exit LAUNCELOT

Will you prepare you for this masque tonight?

I am provided of a torchbearer.

SALERIO. Ay, marry, I’ll be gone about it straight.

SOLANIO. And so will I.

LORENZO. Meet me and Gratiano

At Gratiano’s lodging some hour hence.

SALERIO. ‘Tis good we do so. Exeunt SALERIO and SOLANIO

GRATIANO. Was not that letter from fair Jessica?

LORENZO. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed How I shall take her from her father’s house; What gold and jewels she is furnish’d with; What page’s suit she hath in readiness.

If e’er the Jew her father come to heaven, It will be for his gentle daughter’s sake; And never dare misfortune cross her foot, Unless she do it under this excuse,

That she is issue to a faithless Jew.

Come, go with me, peruse this as thou goest; Fair Jessica shall be my torchbearer. Exeunt

SCENE V.

Venice. Before SHYLOCK’S house

Enter SHYLOCK and LAUNCELOT

SHYLOCK. Well, thou shalt see; thy eyes shall be thy judge, The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio.-

What, Jessica!- Thou shalt not gormandize As thou hast done with me-What, Jessica!-

And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out-Why, Jessica, I say!

LAUNCELOT. Why, Jessica!

SHYLOCK. Who bids thee call? I do not bid thee call.

LAUNCELOT. Your worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing without bidding.

Enter JESSICA

JESSICA. Call you? What is your will?

SHYLOCK. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica; There are my keys. But wherefore should I go?

I am not bid for love; they flatter me; But yet I’ll go in hate, to feed upon The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, Look to my house. I am right loath to go; There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, For I did dream of money-bags tonight.

LAUNCELOT. I beseech you, sir, go; my young master doth expect your reproach.

SHYLOCK. So do I his.

LAUNCELOT. And they have conspired together; I will not say you shall see a masque, but if you do, then it was not for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black Monday last at six o’clock i’ th’ morning, falling out that year on Ash Wednesday was four year, in th’ afternoon.

SHYLOCK. What, are there masques? Hear you me, Jessica: Lock up my doors, and when you hear the drum, And the vile squealing of the wry-neck’d fife, Clamber not you up to the casements then, Nor thrust your head into the public street To gaze on Christian fools with varnish’d faces; But stop my house’s ears-I mean my