The Merchant of Venice

by: William Shakespeare

  Act 2 Scene 2

page Act 2 Scene 2 Page 4

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GOBBO

Pray you, sir, stand up. I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy.

GOBBO

Please stand up! I’m sure you aren’t Launcelot, my boy.

LAUNCELOT

75Pray 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.

LAUNCELOT

Come on, quit fooling around. Give me your blessing. I’m Launcelot, who was your boy, is your son, and will be your child.

GOBBO

I cannot think you are my son.

GOBBO

I can’t believe you’re 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.

LAUNCELOT

I don’t know what to say to that, but the fact is I’m Launcelot, the Jew’s servant, and 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. (feels the back of LAUNCELOT’s head) 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.

GOBBO

Yes, you’re right, her name is Margery. If you’re Launcelot, then you’re my own flesh and blood. (feels the back of LAUNCELOT’s head) My Lord, what a bushy beard you have! You’ve got more hair on your chin than Dobbin my horse has in 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.

LAUNCELOT

Then Dobbin’s tail must be growing backward. I’m sure he had more hair on his tail than I have on my face when I last saw him.

GOBBO

80Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. How 'gree you now?

GOBBO

Lord, how you’ve changed! How are you and your master getting along? I’ve brought him a present. How are you?

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.

LAUNCELOT

I’m all right. But I’ve decided to run away, and I can’t wait to get going. My master’s a total Jew. You’re giving him a present? Give him a noose to hang himself. He’s starving me to death. You can see my ribs so well you can count them. I’m glad you’ve come, father. Give me your present to give to Master Bassanio. He gives his servants beautiful new uniforms.