Mar. Furio, how slovenly thou goest attir’d.
Fu. Why so, my lord?
Mar. Look here, thy shoes are both untied.
Grissil, kneel you and tie them.
Fu. Pardon me.
Mar. Quickly, I charge you.
Gri. Friend, you do me wrong
To let me hold my lord in wrath so long.
Stand still, I’ll kneel and tie them: what I do,
Furio, ’tis done to him, and not to you.
[She ties them.
Fu. ’Tis so.
Mar. Aside.] Oh, strange I oh, admirable patience!
I fear, when Grissil’s bones sleep in her grave,
The world a second Grissil ne’er will have.
[To her.] Now get you in.
Gri. I go, my gracious lord.
[Exit.
Mar. Didst thou not hear her sigh? did not one frown
Contract her beauteous forehead?
Fu. I saw none.
Mar. Did not one drop fall down from sorrow’s eyes
To blame my heart for these her injuries? —
Fu. Faith, not a drop. I fear she’ll frown on me,
For doing me service.
Mar. Furio, that I’ll try.
My voice may yet o’ertake her. Grissil! Grissil!
[Re-] Enter GRISSIL.
Fu. She comes at first call.
Gri. Did my lord call?
Mar. Woman, I call’d thee not.
I said this slave was like to Grissil, Grissil,
And must thou, therefore, come to torture me?
Nay, stay: here’s a companion fit for you.
Thou vexest me, so doth this villain, too;
But ere the sun to his highest throne ascend,
My indignation in his death shall end.
Gri. Oh, pardon him, my lord; for mercy’s wings
Bear round about the world the fame of kings.
Temper your wrath, I beg it on my knee:
Forgive his fault, though you’ll not pardon me.
Mar. Thank her.
Fu. Thanks, madam.
Mar. I have not true power
To wound thee with denial. Oh, my Grissil,
How dearly should I love thee;
Yea, die to do thee good, but that my subjects
Upbraid me with thy birth, and call it base,
And grieve to see thy father and thy brother
Heav’d up to dignities.
Gri. Oh, cast them down,.
And send poor Grissil poorly home again.
High cedars fall, when low shrubs safe remain.
Mar. Fetch me a cup of wine. — [Exit GRISSIL.
Enter at the same door, MARIO and LEPIDO.
Fu. She’s a saint, sure.
Mar. Ah, Furio, now I’ll boast that I have found
An angel upon earth: she shall be crown’d
The empress of all women. — Lepido,
Mario, what was she that passed by you?
Both. Your virtuous wife.
Mar. Call her not virtuous,
For I abhor her. Did not her swollen eyes
Look red with hate or scorn? Did she not curse
My name, or Furio’s name?
Ma. No, my dear lord.
Mar. For he and I rail’d at her, spit at her.
I’ll burst her heart with sorrow; for I grieve
To see you grieve that I have wrong’d my state
By loving one whose baseness now I hate.
[Re-] Enter GRISSIL with wine.
Mar. Come faster, if you can. — Forbear, Mario;
’Tis but her office: what she does to me
She shall perform to any of you three.
Lep. I am glad to see her pride thus trampled on.
Mar. Now serve Mario, then serve Lepido;
And as you bow to me, so bend to them.
Gri. I’ll not deny’t to win a diadem.
Ma. Your wisdom I commend, that have the power
To raise or throw down, as you smile or lower.
Gri. Your patience I commend, that can abide
To hear a flatterer speak, yet never chide.
Mar. Hence, hence! dare you control them whom I grace?
Come not within my sight.
Gri. I will obey,
And, if you please, ne’er more behold the day. [Exit.
Mar. Furio.
Fu. My lord.
Mar. Watch her where she goes,
And mark how in her looks this trial shows.
Fu. I will. — [Exit.
Mar. Mario, Lepido, I loathe this Grissil,
As sick men loathe the bitterest potion
Which the physician’s hand holds out to them.
For God’s sake, frown upon her when she smiles;
For God’s sake, smile for joy to see her frown;
For God’s sake, scorn her, call her beggar’s brat:
Torment her with your looks, your words, your deeds,
My heart shall leap for joy that her heart bleeds.
Wilt thou do this, Mario?
Ma. If you say,
Mario, do this, I must in it obey.
Mar. I know you must; so, Lepido, must you.
’Tis well; but counsel me what’s best to do —
How shall I please my subjects? Do but speak;
I’ll do it, though Grissil’s heart in sunder break.
Lep. Your subjects do repine at nothing more,
Than to behold Janiculo, her father,
And her base brother lifted up so high.
Ma. To banish them from court were policy.
Mar. Oh, rare, oh, profound wisdom! dear Mario,
It forthwith shall be done: they shall not stay,
Though I may win by them a kingdom’s sway.
[Exit.
Lep. Mario, laugh at this.
Ma. Why, so I do.
Headlong I had rather fall to misery,
Than see a beggar rais’d to dignity. — [Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I — A Chamber in the Palace of Saluzzo.
ENTER BABULO, SINGING, with a boy after him.
Bab. Boy, how sits my rapier? la sol, la sol, &c.
Boy. It hangs as even as a chandler’s beam.
Bab. Some of them deserve to hang upon a beam for that evenness. Boy, learn to give every man his due: give the hangman his due, for he’s a necessary member.
Boy. That’s true, for he cuts off many wicked members.
Bab. He’s an excellent barber; he shaves most cleanly.
But, page, how dost thou like the court?
Boy. Prettily, and so.
Bab. Faith, so do I, prettily and so. I am weary of being a courtier, boy.
Boy. That you cannot be, master, for you are but a courtier’s man.
Bab. Thou sayest true; and thou art the courtier’s man’s boy; so thou art a courtier in decimo sexto, in the least volume, or a courtier at the third hand, or a courtier by reversion, or a courtier three descents removed, or a courtier in minority, or an under courtier, or a courtier in posse, and I thy master in esse.
Boy. A posse ad esse non est argumentum, master.
Bab. Thou hast too much wit to be so little; but imitation, imitation is his good lord and master.
Enter JANICULO, LAUREO, and FURIO.
Jan. Banish’d from court ; oh, what have we misdone?
Lau. What have we done, we must be thus disgraced?
Fu. I know not, but you are best pack: ’tis my lord’s will, and that’s law. I must unease you: your best course is to fall to your own trades. — [Strips them.
Bab. Sirrah, what art thou? a broker?
Fu. No; bow then? I am a gentleman.
Bab. Th’art a Jew, th’art a pagan: how dar’st thou leave them without a cloak for the rain, when his daughter, and his sister, and my mistress, is the king’s wife.
Fu. Go look, sirrah fool: my condition is to ship you too.
Bab. There’s a ship of fools read
y to hoist sail; they stay but for a good wind and your company. Ha, ha, ha! I wonder, if all fools were banished, where thou wouldst take shipping.
Jan. Peace, Babulo: we are banish’d from the court.
Bab. I am glad; it shall ease me of a charge here. As long as we have good clothes on our backs, ’tis no matter for our honesty; we’ll live any where, and keep court in any corner.
Enter GRISSIL.
Jan. Oh, my dear Grissil! —
Gri. You from me are banish’d;
But ere you leave the court, oh leave, I pray,
Your grief in Grissil’s bosom: let my cheeks
Be water’d with woe’s tears, for here and here,
And in the error of these wand’ring eyes
Began your discontent: had not I been
By nature painted thus, this had not been.
To leave the court and care be patient;
In your old cottage you shall find content.
Mourn not because these silks are ta’en away;
You’ll seem more rich in a coarse gown of grey.
Fu. Will you be packing? when?
Jan. Friend, what’s thy name?
Fu. Furio my name is; what of that?
Bab. Is thy name Fury? thou art half hang’d, for thou hast an ill name.
Lau. Thy looks are like thy name: thy name and looks
Approve thy nature to be violent.
Gri. Brother, forbear: he’s servant to my lord.
Bab. To him, master: spare him not an inch.
Lau. Princes are never pleas’d with subjects’ sins,
But pity those whom they are sworn to smite,
And grieve as tender mothers, when they beat
With kind correction their unquiet babes;
So should their officers compassionate
The misery of any wretch’s state. —
Fu. [Aside.] I must obey my master; though, indeed,
My heart, that seems hard, at their wrongs doth bleed.
[To them.] Pray get you gone. I say little, but you know my mind.
Bab. Little said is soon amended. Thou sayest but little, and that little will be mended soon; indeed, that’s never, and so the proverb stands in his full strength, power, and virtue.
Enter MARQUESS, MARIO, LEPIDO, and attendants.
Fu. They will not go, my lord.
Mar. Will they not go?
Away with them! expel them from our court!
Base wretches, is it wrong to ask mine own?
Think you that my affection to my wife
Is greater than my love to public weal?
Do not my people murmur every hour,
That I have rais’d you up to dignities?
Do not lewd minstrels, in their ribald rhymes,
Scoff at her birth, and descant on her dower?
Jan. Alas, my lord, you knew her state before.
Mar. I didand, from the bounty of my heart,
I robb’d my wardrobe of all precious robes,
That she might shine in beauty like the sun;
And in exchange I hung this russet gown,
And this poor pitcher, for a monument
Amongst my costliest gems. See where they hang:
Grissil, look here; this gown is unlike to this.
Gri. My gracious lord, I know full well it is.
Bab. Grissil was as pretty a Grissil in the one, as in the other.
Mar. You have forgot these rags, this water-pot.
Gri. With reverence of your highness, I have not.
Bab. Nor I: many a good mess of water-gruel has that yielded us.
Mar. Yes, you are proud of these your rich attires.
Gri. Never did pride keep pace with my desires.
Mar. Well, get you on. — Part briefly with your farther.
Jan. Our parting shall be short. — Daughter, farewell!
Lau. Our parting shall be short. — Sister, farewell!
Bab. Our parting shall be short. — Grissil, farewell!
Jan. Remember thou didst live when thou wert poor,
And now thou dost but live. — Come, son, no more.
Mar. See them without the palace, Furio.
Fu. Good; yet ’tis bad [aside].
[Exeunt with FURIO.
Bab. Shall Furio see them out of the palace? do you turn us out of doors? you turn us out of doors then?
Mar. Hence with that fool. Mario, drive him home.
Bab. He shall not need: I am no ox nor ass; I can go without driving. For all his turning, I am glad of one thing.
Lep. What’s that, Babulo?
Bab. Mary, that he shall never hit us i’th’ teeth with turning us, for ’tis not a good turn. Follower, I must cashier you: I must give over housekeeping; ’tis the fashion. Farewell, boy.
Boy. Marry, farewell, and be hang’d.
Bab. I am glad thou tak’st thy death so patiently.
Farewell, my lord: adieu, my lady. Great was the wisdom of that tailor that stitch’d me in motley, for he’s a fool that leaves basket-making to turn courtier. I see my destiny dogs me: at first I was a fool, for I was born an innocent; then I was a traveller, and then a basketmaker, and then a courtier, and now I must turn basket-maker and fool again: the one I am sworn to, but the fool I bestow upon the world, for, stultorum plena sunt omnia, adieu, adieu. — [Exit.
Mar. Farewell, simplicity; part of my shame, farewell.
Now, lady, what say you of their exile?
Gri. Whatever you think good I’ll not term vile.
By this rich burthen in my worthless womb, —
Your handmaid is so subject to your will,
That nothing which you do to her seems ill.
Mar. I am glad you are so patient. Get you in.
[Exit Grissil.
Thy like will never be, never hath been.
Mario! Lepido!
Ma and Lep. My gracious lord.
Mar. The hand of poverty held down your states
As it did Grissil’s; and as her I rais’d
To shine in greatness’ sphere, so did mine eye
Throw gilt beams of your births; therefore, methinks,
Your soul should sympathize, and you should know
What passions in my Grissil’s bosom flow.
Faith, tell me your opinions of my wife.
Lep. She is as virtuous, and as patient
As innocence, as patience itself.
Ma. She merits much of love, little of hate:
Only in birth she is unfortunate.
Mar. Ay, ay; the memory of that birth doth kill me.
She is with child, you see: her travail past,
I am determined she shall leave the court,
And live again with old Janiculo.
Both. Wherein you shew true wisdom.
Mar. Do I, indeed? [aside.’]
Dear friends, it shall be done. I’ll have you two
Rumour that presently to the wide ears
Of that news-loving beast, the multitude:
Go, tell them for their sakes this shall be done.
Ma. With wings we fly.
Lep. Swifter than time we run.
[Exeunt.
Mar. Begone, then. — Oh, these limes! these impious times!
How swift is mischief! with what nimble feet
Doth envy gallop to do injury!
They both confess my Grissil’s innocence,
They both admire her wondrous patience,
Yet, in their malice, and to flatter me,
Headlong they run to this impiety.
Oh, what’s this world but a confused throng
Of fools and madmen, crowding in a thrust
To shoulder out the wise, trip down the just!
But I will try by self-experience,
And shun the vulgar sentence of the base.
If I find Grissil strong in patience,
These flatterers shall be wounded with disgrace;
And whilst verse lives the fame shall never die
[Exit.
SCENE II. — The country near Saluzzo.
ENTER URCENZE AND ONOPHRIO at several doors, and
FARNEZE in the midst.
Far. Onophrio and Urcenze, early met. Every man take his staud, for there comes a most rich purchase of mirth; Emulo, with his hand in a fair scarf, and Julia, with whom he sighs apace, and, therefore, I am sure he lies apace.
Ono. His arm in a scarf! has he been fighting?
Far. Fighting! hang him, coward.
Urc. Perhaps he does it to show his scarf.
Far. Peace! here the ass comes: stand aside and see him curvet. — [They stand back.]
[Enter EMULO and JULIA.]
Jul. Did my new married cousin, Sir Owen, wound you thus?
Emu. He, certes! As he is allied to the illustrious
Julia, I live his devoted; as Signor Emulous enemy, no adulatory language can redeem him from vengeance. If you please, my most accomplished mistress, I will make a most palpable demonstration of our battle.
Jul. As palpably as you can, good servant.
Ono. Oh, she gulls him simply.
Far. She has reason: is he not a simple gull?
Urc. Sound an alarum ere his battle begin.
Far. Peace! Sa, sa, sa!
Emu. Sir Owen and myself encountering, I vailed my upper garment; and enriching my head again with a fine velvet cap, which I then wore, with a band to it of orient pearl and gold, and a foolish sprig of some nine or ten pound price or so, we grew to an imparlance.
Far. Oh, ho, ho! this is rare.
Jul. You did wisely to confer before you combated.
Emu. Verily we did so; but, falling into the hands of bitter words, we retorted a while, and then drew.
Ono. True; his gloves, to save his hands.
Urc. No; his handkerchief, to wipe his face.
Far. He sweat pitifully for fear; if it were true — if —
Emu. I was then encounter’d with a pure Toledo silvered, and elevating mine arm, in the drawing — by Jesu, sweet madam, my rich cloak, loaded with pearl, which I wore at your sister Grissil’s bridal; I made it then, by God, of mere purpose to grace the court, and so forth — that foolish garment dropped down. The buttons were illustrious and resplendent diamonds, but it’s all one.
Far. Nay, they were all scarce one.
Emu. Divine lady, as I said, we both lying, —
Far. I’ll be sworn thou dost.
Emu. I must recognize and confess, very generously and heroically at our ward, the Welsh knight, making a very desperate thrust at my bosom, before God, fairly missed my embroidered jerkin that I then wore; and with my poignard vapulating and checking his engine, down it cut me a pair of very imperial cloth of gold hose, at least thus long thwart the cannon, at least.
Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker Page 113