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Speeches (Lines) for Old Gobbo
in "Merchant of Venice"

Total: 19

# Act, Scene, Line
(Click to see in context)
Speech text



(stage directions). [Enter Old GOBBO, with a basket]

Old Gobbo. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way
to master Jew's?



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

Old Gobbo. 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.



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

Old Gobbo. Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir.



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

Old Gobbo. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership.



Launcelot Gobbo. 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 Gobbo. 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 Gobbo. Do you not know me, father?

Old Gobbo. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind; I know you not.



Launcelot Gobbo. 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.

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



Launcelot Gobbo. 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

Old Gobbo. I cannot think you are my son.



Launcelot Gobbo. 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 Gobbo. 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 Gobbo. 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 Gobbo. 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 Gobbo. 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 Gobbo. 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 Gobbo. Serve you, sir.

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

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