Love's Labour's Lost (version 2) - Free Audiobook

000 Scene II. Venice. A street.

TMOV II. 2 Enter Launcelot.

001 Laun. Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow, and 003 tempts me, saying to me, ‘Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,’ or ‘good Gobbo,’ or ‘good Launcelot Gobbo, 005 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 008 run; scorn running with thy heels.’ Well, the most courageous 009 fiend bids me pack: ‘Via!’ says the fiend; ‘away!’ 010 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 015 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 019 counsel well:’ to be ruled by my conscience, I should stay 020 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 023 himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarnal; 024 and, in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard 025 conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The fiend gives the more friendly counsel: I will run, fiend; my 027 heels are at your command; I will run.

Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket.

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

030 Laun. [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten father! who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel blind, 032 knows me not: I will try confusions with him.

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

035 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 038 to the Jew’s house.

039 Gob. By God’s sonties, ’twill be a hard way to hit. 040 Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him or no?

Laun. Talk you of young Master Launcelot? [Aside] Mark me now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of young Master Launcelot?

045 Gob. No master, sir, but a poor man’s son: his father, 046 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.

050 Gob. Your worship’s friend, and Launcelot, sir.

Laun. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech 052 you, talk you of young Master Launcelot?

Gob. Of Launcelot, an’t please your mastership.

Laun. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master 055 Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters 057 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 060 my age, my very prop.

Laun. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff 062 or a prop? 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 065 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 knows his own 070 child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son: 071 give me your blessing: truth will come to light; murder 072 cannot be hid long; a man’s son may; but, at the length, 073 truth will out.

Gob. Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not 075 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 that shall be.

Gob. I cannot think you are my son.

080 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. 085 Lord worshipped might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my 087 fill-horse has 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 090 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. 093 How ’gree you now?

Laun. Well, well: but, for mine own part, as I have 095 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; 098 you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come: give me your present to one 100 Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives rare new liveries: if 101 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 103 I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer.

Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo and other followers.

Bass. You may do so; but let it be so hasted, that 105 supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these letters delivered; put the liveries to making; and 107 desire Gratiano to come anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servant.

Laun. To him, father.

Gob. God bless your worship!

110 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; that would, sir,—as my father shall specify,—

Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, 115 to serve,—

Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire,—as my father shall specify,—

Gob. His master and he, saving your worship’s reverence, are scarce cater-cousins,—

120 Laun. To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having done me wrong, doth cause me,—as my father, 122 being, I hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you,—

Gob. I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your worship, and my suit is,—

125 Laun. 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.

Bass. One speak for both. What would you?

Laun. Serve you, sir.

130 Gob. That is the very defect of the matter, sir.

Bass. 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

135 The follower of so poor a gentleman.

Laun. 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.

139 Bass. Thou speak’st it well. Go, father, with thy son.

140 Take leave of thy old master and inquire

My lodging out. Give him a livery

More guarded than his fellows’: see it done.

143 Laun. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have 144 ne’er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man in Italy have 145 a fairer table which doth offer to swear upon a book, I 146 shall have good fortune. Go to, here’s a simple line of life: here’s a small trifle of wives: alas, fifteen wives is 148 nothing! a’leven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in 149 for one man: and then to ’scape drowning thrice, 150 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 153 leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. [Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo.

Bass. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this:

155 These things being bought and orderly bestow’d,

Return in haste, for I do feast to-night

157 My best-esteem’d acquaintance: hie thee, go.

Leon. My best endeavours shall be done herein.

Enter Gratiano.

159 Gra. Where is your master?

Leon.

Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit.

160 Gra. Signior Bassanio,—

Bass. Gratiano!

162 Gra. I have a suit to you.

Bass.

You have obtain’d it.

163 Gra. You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont.

165 Bass. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano:

Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice;

Parts that become thee happily enough,

168 And in such eyes as ours appear not faults;

But where thou art not known, why, there they show

170 Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain

To allay with some cold drops of modesty

Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild behaviour,

173 I be misconstrued in the place I go to,

174 And lose my hopes.

Gra.

Signior Bassanio, hear me:

175 If I do not put on a sober habit,

Talk with respect, and swear but now and then,

177 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;’

180 Use all the observance of civility,

Like one well studied in a sad ostent

To please his grandam, never trust me more.

Bass. Well, we shall see your bearing.

Gra. Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge me

By what we do to-night.

Bass.

185 No, that were pity:

I would entreat you rather to put on

Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends

188 That purpose merriment. But fare you well:

I have some business.

190 Gra. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest:

But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeunt.