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  1. Home
  2. Monologue for Men
  3. Dramatic Monologue for Men
  4. The Merchant of Venice
  • A Monologue from the play "The Merchant of Venice" by William Shakespeare
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Character Lancelot
Gender Male
Age Range(s) Young Adult (20-35), Adult (36-50)
Type of monologue / Character is Angry, Depressed, Lamenting, Frustrated, Insecure, Talking to the audience, Reminiscing life story/Telling a story
Type Dramatic
Period Renaissance
Genre Comedy
Description Lancelot ponders whether to run away from his master
Location ACT II, Scene 2

Summary

Bassanio, a gentleman from Venice, asks his kinsman and friend Antonio, a Venitian merchant, for a loan so that he can court Portia, a woman from Belmont he has fallen in love with. Having all his money locked in investments, Antonio suggests to visit Shylock, a Jewish moneylender he is not in best terms with. Antonio hates Jews and always criticizes them for their usury. As a revenge, Shylock agrees to lend Bassanio some money with the condition that if he fails to pay him back then he will be entitled to a pound of Antonio's flesh. In the meanwhile Portia has to deal with several suitors she is not interested in. Her father has decided to give his daughter's hand in marriage to the first suitor that manages to pick a chest containing her portrait out of three chests.

In this scene, in ACT II, Scene 2, we find Lancelot Gobbo, Shylock's servant who is considering leaving his cruel and inhuman master. After due consideration, he decides to leave him...

Written by Administrator

Excerpt
LAUNCELOT
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.

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