Launcelot Gobbo

A street.

Enter Launcelot Gobbo.

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."

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.

Um, let's see.

Oh, there is a, a Shakespeare quote, um, in The Merchant of Venice when the character Launcelot Gobbo says, "It is a wise father that knows his own child.

Old Gobbo, man, your father, whom, being the m- being the more than sand blind, high gravel blind, knows me not." Well, it's a little, you know, it's Shakespearean, so it's a little confusing.

But I guess he was saying that, uh, he was more than sand blind.

Graves' disease.

Graves, uh, has an apostrophe at the end and a capital G. Noun from 1868.

It is a common form of hyperthyroidism characterized by goiter and often a slight protrusion of the eyeballs.

Ugh.

He had always hated Mary.

Are dogs, in their preferences and avoidances, guided at all by physical beauty or ugliness? Was Helen of Troy adored by the dogs of that town, and did Sappho command the worship of the hounds of Greece? We told nothing of it, and on the other hand, we know that Lancelot Gobbo had a devoted dog, and that Sharon, who cannot have been a handsome fellow, was most faithfully dog-attended.

I do not think that Hamlet minded poor Mary's plainness, her large spectacles, her sallow complexion, colorless hair, and bony body.

His dislike arose more probably from the certainty that she would always stroke him the wrong way, would poke her fingers into his defenseless eyes, would try to drag him onto her sharp razor-edged knees, and would talk to him in that meaningless sing-song especially invented by the sentimental of heart and slow of brain for the enchantment of babies and animals.

Read by Carolyn Francis.

Launcelot Gobbo, A Clown, Servant to Shylock.

Read by

L. Lambert Lawson.

Tubal, read by Maria Casper.

Lancelot Gabo, read by John Burlinson.

Old Gabo, read by Ray Casper.

Leonardo, read by Catherine.

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Enter Lorenzo.

I'll tell my husband Lancelot what you say.

Here he comes.

She liked the verse Lorenzo took to writing, And made some tunes herself upon the lute To fit a little moonlight sequence.

When Launcelot Gobbo stole a goose at Christmas She did not say he was an honest fellow But rated him and almost sent him off.

He didn't brag about it to his fellows.

She had two children, and said two were enough, And loved them.

She liked the verse Lorenzo took to writing, And made some tunes herself upon the lute To fit a little moonlight sequence.

When Launcelot Gobbo stole a goose at Christmas She did not say he was an honest fellow, But rated him and almost sent him off.

He didn't brag about it to his fellows.

She had two children, and said two were enough, And loved them.

He had always hated Mary.

Are dogs in their preferences and avoidances guided at all by physical beauty or ugliness? Was Helen of Troy adored by the dogs of that town, and did Sappho command the worship of the hounds of Greece? We're told nothing of it, and on the other hand we know that Lancelot Gobbo had a devoted dog, and that Sharon, who cannot have been a handsome fellow, was most faithfully dog-attended.

I do not think that Hamlet minded poor Mary's plainness, her large spectacles, her sallow complexion, colorless hair, and bony body.

His dislike arose more probably from the certainty that she would always stroke him the wrong way, would poke her fingers into his defenseless eyes, would try to drag him on to her sharp razor-edged knees, and would talk to him in that meaningless sing-song especially invented by the sentimental of heart and slow of brain for the enchantment of babies and animals.

A Street.

Enter Lancelot

Gobo.

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, ''Gobo, Lancelot Gobo, good Lancelot, or good Gobo, or good Lancelot Gobo, use your legs, take the start, run away.'' my conscience says no take heed honest launcelot take heed honest gobo or as aforesaid honest launcelot gobo 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, Lancelot, budge not.

Budge, says the fiend.

Budge not, says my conscience.

Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but at the next turning of all on your left, Mary, at the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the Jew's house.