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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 incarnal; 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 command; I will run.
Honestly, my conscience is telling me to run away from this Jew, my master. The devil is at my side and tempts me, saying ’Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot,’ or ’good Gobbo,’ or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take off, run away. My conscience says ’No; be careful,’ honest Launcelot; be careful, honest Gobbo, or, like I said before, ’honest Launcelot Gobbo; don’t run; don’t let your heels move.’ Well, the bravest devil tells me to go: ’Go!’ says the devil; ’Hurry!’ says the devil; ’for heaven’s sake, wake up a bold heart,’ says the devil, ’and run.’ Well, my conscience, hanging around my heart, wisely says to me ’My honest friend Launcelot, being the son of an honest man,’ or actually the son of an honest woman; because, really, my father was somewhat respectable, he had some sense; well, my conscience says ’Launcelot, don’t move.’ ’Move,’ says the devil. ’Don’t move,’ says my conscience. ’Conscience,’ I say, ’you give good advice;’ ’Devil,’ I say, ’you give good advice:’ if I followed my conscience, I’d stay with the Jew my master, who, God bless him, is pretty much a devil; and if I ran away from the Jew, I’d be listening to the devil, who, no offense, is the devil himself. Honestly, the Jew is the very devil incarnate; and, in my conscience, my conscience is just a hard conscience, to even suggest that I should stay with the Jew. The devil gives the better advice: I’ll run, devil; my legs are ready for you; I’ll run.
Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew’s?
Young master, I pray you, which way to the Jew’s house?
[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.
[Aside] Oh my god, this is my real father! who, being completely blind, doesn’t recognize me: I’ll mess with him.
Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew’s?
Master young gentleman, I beg you, which way to the master Jew’s?
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.
Turn right at the next intersection, but, at the very next intersection, turn left; actually, at the very next intersection, don’t turn at all, just go straight down towards the Jew’s house.
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?
By God’s bones, that’ll be a hard way to find. Can you tell me if one Launcelot, who lives with him, still lives with him or not?
Talk you of young Master Launcelot?
Are you talking about young Master Launcelot?
Mark me now; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of young Master Launcelot?
Watch me now; now I will make things clear. Are you talking about young Master Launcelot?
No master, sir, but a poor man’s son: his father, though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man and, God be thanked, well to live.
No, sir, not master, just a poor man’s son: his father, though I say it, is an honest and very poor man and, thank God, is doing okay.
Well, let his father be what a’ will, we talk of young Master Launcelot.
Well, let his father be whatever he is, we’re talking about young Master Launcelot.
Your worship’s friend and Launcelot, sir.
Your worship’s friend and Launcelot, sir.
But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, talk you of young Master Launcelot?
But I beg you, old man, please, tell me, are you talking about young Master Launcelot?
Of Launcelot, an’t please your mastership.
About Launcelot, if it pleases your lordship.
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.
So, Master Launcelot. Don’t talk about Master Launcelot, father; because the young man, according to Fate, Destiny, and all those weird sayings, the Three Sisters and such things, is actually dead, or, as you’d say in plain terms, gone to heaven.
Marry, God forbid! the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop.
Good God forbid! The boy was the very support of my old age, my very strength.
Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a prop? Do you know me, father?
Do I look like a club or a post, a support or a prop? Do you recognize me, father?
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?
Alas, I don’t know you, young gentleman: but, please, tell me, is my boy, God rest his soul, alive or dead?
Do you not know me, father?
Don’t you recognize me, father?
Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not.
Oh dear, sir, I’m blind in the sand; I don’t know you.
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 at the length truth will out.
No, really, if you had your eyes, you still might not recognize me: a wise father is the one who knows his own child. Well, old man, I’ll tell you news about your son: give me your blessing: the truth will come out; murder can’t be hidden forever; a man’s son might hide it, but in the end, the truth will come to light.
Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy.
Please, sir, stand up: I’m sure you’re not Launcelot, my son.
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.
Please, let’s not fool around anymore, just give me your blessing: I’m Launcelot, your boy who was, your son who is, your child who will be.
I cannot think you are my son.
I can’t believe you’re my son.
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.
I don’t know what to think about that, but I am Launcelot, the Jew’s servant, and I’m sure Margery, your wife, is my mother.
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.
Her name is indeed Margery: I swear, if you’re Launcelot, you are my own flesh and blood. Good Lord! What a beard you have! You’ve got more hair on your chin than Dobbin, my draft horse, has on his tail.
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.
It seems then that Dobbin’s tail grows backward: I’m sure he had more hair on his tail than I have on my face the last time I saw him.
Lord, how art thou changed! How dost thou and thy master agree? I have brought him a present. How ’gree you now?
Good Lord, how you’ve changed! How do you and your master get along? I brought him a gift. How do you both get along now?
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.
Well, well: but, as for me, since I’ve decided to run away, I won’t rest until I’ve gone some distance. My master’s a Jew: give him a gift! Give him a noose! I’m starving in his service; you can count every rib I have with my fingers. Father, I’m glad you’re here: give me your gift to Master Bassanio, who truly gives great new clothes: if I don’t serve him, I’ll run as far as God’s earth reaches. Oh, what luck! Here comes the man: to him, father; for I’ll be a Jew if I serve the Jew any longer.
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.
You may do so; but make sure it’s done quickly so that supper is ready by five o’clock at the latest. Get these letters delivered; start making the outfits, and tell Gratiano to come soon to my house.
To him, father.
To him, father.
God bless your worship!
God bless you, sir!
Gramercy! wouldst thou aught with me?
Thanks! Do you need anything from me?
Here’s my son, sir, a poor boy,--
Here’s my son, sir, a poor boy,--
Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew’s man; that would, sir, as my father shall specify--
Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew’s servant; that would, sir, as my father will explain--
He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to serve--
He has a serious condition, sir, as one might say, to serve--
Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify--
Actually, to put it simply, I serve the Jew, and I want something, as my father will explain--
His master and he, saving your worship’s reverence, are scarce cater-cousins--
He and his master, with all due respect to you, are hardly even cousins--
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--
To be quick, the simple truth is that the Jew, having wronged me, causes me, as my father, who I hope is an old man, will explain to you--
I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon your worship, and my suit is--
I have here a dish of doves that I want to give to your worship, and my request is--
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.
To keep it short, the request doesn’t really concern me, as your worship will know from this honest old man; and, even though I say it, though an old man, yet a poor man, my father.
One speak for both. What would you?
Let one of you speak for both. What do you want?
Serve you, sir.
To serve you, sir.
That is the very defect of the matter, sir.
That’s the problem, sir.
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.
I know you well; you’ve gotten what you wanted: Shylock, your master, spoke with me today, And has recommended you, if it’s a promotion To leave a rich Jew’s service and become The servant of such a poor gentleman.
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.
The old saying fits well between my master Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of God, sir, and he has enough.
Thou speak’st it well. Go, father, with thy son. Take leave of thy old master and inquire My lodging out. Give him a livery More guarded than his fellows’: see it done.
You speak wisely. Go, father, with your son. Say goodbye to your old master and find My lodging. Give him a uniform That’s better than his friends’: see it done.
Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have ne’er a tongue in my head. 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! eleven 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 of an eye.
Father, in. I can’t get a job, no; I have no speech in my head. Well, if anyone in Italy has a better reputation that swears on a book, I’ll have good luck. Go on, here’s a simple life: here’s a small taste of wives: alas, fifteen wives are nothing! Eleven widows and nine maids is an easy deal for one man: and then to escape drowning three times, and to be in danger of my life from the edge of a feather-bed; these are simple escapes. Well, if Fortune is a woman, she’s a good wench for this work. Father, come on; I’ll say goodbye to the Jew in a flash.
I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this: These things being bought and orderly bestow’d, Return in haste, for I do feast to-night My best-esteem’d acquaintance: hie thee, go.
Please, good Leonardo, think about this: These things are bought and neatly arranged, Come back quickly, because I’m hosting a dinner tonight For my most respected friends: hurry, go.
My best endeavours shall be done herein.
I’ll do my best to take care of this.
Where is your master?
Where is your master?
Yonder, sir, he walks.
Over there, sir, he’s walking.
Signior Bassanio!
Signior Bassanio!
Gratiano!
Gratiano!
I have a suit to you.
I have a request for you.
You have obtain’d it.
You’ve got it.
You must not deny me: I must go with you to Belmont.
You can’t refuse me: I must come with you to Belmont.
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 behavior I be misconstrued in the place I go to, And lose my hopes.
Then you must come. But listen, Gratiano; You’re too wild, too loud, and too brash; These things might suit you fine And they might not seem like flaws to people like us; But when you’re not known, they stand out As being too much. Please, try To calm down a bit, show some modesty With a little restraint, or else your wildness Might cause me to be misunderstood where I’m going, And ruin my chances.
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.
Signior Bassanio, hear me: If I don’t act serious, Speak respectfully and only swear occasionally, Keep prayer-books in my pocket, look serious, And even more, while grace is being said, cover my eyes Like this with my hat, and sigh and say ‘amen,’ Do all the proper formalities, Like someone well-trained to act solemn To impress his grandmother, then never trust me again.
Well, we shall see your bearing.
Well, we’ll see how you behave.
Nay, but I bar to-night: you shall not gauge me By what we do to-night.
No, I’ll set aside tonight: you won’t judge me By how I act tonight.
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.
No, that would be a shame: I would rather ask you to put on Your happiest clothes, because we have friends Who want to have fun. But goodbye for now: I have some things to take care of.
And I must to Lorenzo and the rest: But we will visit you at supper-time.
And I must go to Lorenzo and the others: But we’ll visit you at dinner-time.