Far. Ay; but, Sir Owen, the kissing hur lady is no mirth to us, if we kiss the post.
Sir Ow. Owe! her cousin marquess has terrible mighty news for tell her; or els is made ready a great banquet at home for all. Pray come home, is all ready for her; her lady say not bo-peep now. But, first, hear her cousin marquess’ news.
Mar. Julia and gentlemen, these are the news,
Brought on the wings of haste and happiness,
By trusty Lepido. Our endeared brother
Is hard at hand, who in his company
Brings my fair second choice, a worthy bride,
Attended by the states of Pavia:
She’s daughter to the duke of Brandenburgh.
Now shall no subject’s envious soul repine,
And call her base whom now I will make mine;
None shall upbraid me now, as they have done,
That I will slay a daughter and a son.
Grissil’s two babes are dead, and kill’d by scorn,
But that fair issue, that shall now be born,
Shall make a satisfaction of all wrongs.
Come, gentlemen, we will go meet this train:
Let every one put on a smiling brow.
Sir Owen, I will have your company,
And yours, fair cousin. Well remember’d, too;
Bring your three wands, Sir Owen, to the court.
Though Gwenthyan look with a smoother eye,
I’ll teach you how to win the sovereignty.
Sir Ow. Is glad of that: ha, ha, ha! tage heed of wands, laty.
Gwe. Tage heed of nails, knight.
Mar. We play the unthrifts in consuming time.
Though your curst wife make some afraid to woo,
Yet I’ll woo once more, and be married too.
Sir Ow. God udge me, Sir Owen would hang before marry once more, if I were another pachelor — marry? oh! — [Exeunt omnes.
ACT V.
SCENE I. — Near Janiculo’s Cottage.
ENTER LAUREO, READING, and BABULO with him.
Bab. Come, I have left my work to see what matters you mumble to yourself. Faith, Laureo, I would you could leave this Latin, and fall to make baskets. You think ’tis enough if at dinner you tell us a tale of pigmies, and then munch up our victuals; but that fits not us: or the history of the well, Helicon, and then drink up our beer: we cannot live upon it.
Lau. A scholar doth disdain to spend his spirits, Upon such base employments as hand-labours.
Bab. Then you should disdain to eat us out of house and home: you stand all day peeping into an ambry there, and talk of monsters, and miracles, and countries, to no purpose. Before I fell to my trade I was a traveller, and found more in one year, than you can by your poets and paltries in seven years.
Lau. What wonders hast thou seen, which are not here?
Bab. Oh, God! I pity thy capacity, good scholar: as a little wind makes a sweet ball smell, so a crumb of learning makes your trade proud s what wonders? wonders not of nine days, but 1599. I have, seen, under John Prester and Tamer Cam, people with heads like dogs.
Lau. Alas, of such there are too many here!
All Italy is full of them that snarl,
And bay, and bark at other men’s abuse,
Yet live themselves like beasts in all abuse.
Bab. It’s true: I know many of that complexion; but I have seen many without heads, having their eyes, nose, and mouths in their breasts.
Lau. Why that’s no wonder: every street with us swarms full of such.
Bab. I could never see them.
Lau. Dost thou not see our wine-belly drunkards reel;
Our fat-fed gluttons wallow in the streets,
Having no eyes but to behold their guts,
No heads but brainless scalps, no sense to smell,
But where full feasts abound in all excess?
These Epimoei be our epicures.
Bab. I have seen monsters of that colour too; but what say you to them that have but one leg, and yet will outrun a horse?
Lau. Such are our bankrupts, and our fugitives,
Scarce having one good leg, or one good limb,
Outrun their creditors, and those they wrong.
Bab. Mass! ’tis true. There was a cripple in our village ran beyond Venice, and his creditors, with their best legs, could never since take him. But let me descend, and grow lower and lower: what say you to the little pigmies, no higher than a boy’s gig, and yet they tug and fight with the long-necked cranes?
Lau. Oh, poor and wretched people are the pigmies;
Oh, rich oppressors the devouring cranes!
Within my father’s house I’ll shew thee pigmies;
Thou seest my sister Grissil; she’s a pigmy.
Bab. She’s a pretty little woman, indeed, but too big for a pigmy.
Lau. I am a pigmy.
Bab. Fie, fie! worse and worse.
Lau. My old father’s one.
Bab. No, no, no; giants all.
Lau. The marquess is the rich devouring crane,
That makes us less than pigmies, worse than worms.
Enter JANICULO with an angling rod, GRISSIL with a reel, and FURIO.
Bab. Yonder they come, and a crane with them.
Fu. Janiculo, leave your fish-catching, and you your reeling, you; and you, sirrah, you must trudge to court presently.
Jan. Must we again be hurried from content,
To live in a more grievous banishment?
Lau. Methinks, my lord the marquess should be pleas’d
With marriage of another: and forbear
With trumpets to proclaim this injury,
And to vex Grissil with such lawless wrong.
Gri. ’Tis no vexation; for what pleaseth him
Is the contentment of his handmaid’s heart.
Fu. Will you go?
Jan. Yes, we will go,
To fly from happiness to find out woe.
Bab. Good Furio, vanish: we have no appetite, tell your master. Clowns are not for the court; we’ll keep court ourselves; for what do courtiers do, but we do the like? you eat good cheer, and we eat good bread and cheese; you drink wine, and we strong beer; at night you are as hungry slaves as you were at noon — why, so are we; you go to bed, you can but sleep — why, and so do we; in the morning you rise about eleven of the clock — why, there we are your betters, for we are going before you; you wear silks, and we sheepskins. Innocence carries it away in the world to come; and, therefore, vanish, good Furio; torment us not, good my sweet Furio.
Fu. Ass, I’ll have you snaffled.
Bab. It may be so; but then, Furio, I’ll kick.
Fu. Will you go, or shall I force you?
Gri. You need not, for I’ll run to serve my lord;
Or, if I wanted legs, upon my knees
I’ll creep to court, so I may see him pleas’d.
Then courage, father.
Jan. Well said, patience!
Thy virtues arm mine age with confidence.
Come, son; bondmen must serve; shall we away?
Lau. Ay, ay; but this shall prove a fatal day.
Gri. Brother, for my sake, do not wrong yourself.
Lau. Shall I in silence bury all our wrongs?
Gri. Yes; when your words cannot get remedy.
Learn of me, Laureo; I that share most woe,
Am the least mov’d. Father, lean on my arm;
Brother, lead you the way, whilst wretched I
Uphold old age, and cast down misery.
Fu. Away.
Bab. Old master, you have fish’d fair, and caught a frog. — [Exeunt.
SCENE II. — The Palace of Saluzzo.
ENTER MARQUESS, PAVIA, LEPIDO, ONOPHRIO, URCENZE, FARNEZE, and MARIO.
Mar. Lords, as you love our state, affect our loves,
Like of your own content, respect your lives,
Urge us no further: Gwaiter is resolv’d
To marry the half heir of Brandenburgh.
My
brother Pavia, with no small expense,
Hath brought the princess out of Germany,
Together with prince Gwalter, her young brother.
Now they are come, learn of the rising sun;
Scatter the cloudy mists of discontent,
As he disperseth vapours with his beams.
Pa. Brother, there is no eye but brightly shines:
Gladness doth lodge in [all] your nobles’ looks,
Nor have they any cause to cloud their brows.
Enter SIR OWEN, GWENTHYAN, and RICE with Wands.
Far. Oh, here comes Sir Owen and my lady patience! Room, there.
Sir Ow. Tardawgh, cousin marquess and lords all.
Mar. Welcome, good cousin Gwenthyan. Will you please Go in, and lend your presence to my bride?
Gwe. Cousin, ’tis hur intentions so to do; but I swear, an I were Grissil, I would pull her eyes out, an she were as many Shermans daughter as there be cows in
Cambria; and that is above twenty score, and a little more, you know, Sir Owen.
Sir Ow. Yes, truly; above a dozen more, is warrant hur.
Mar. Grissil is patient: madam, be you pleas’d.
Gwe. Well, and she be so basely minded, ’tis well; but I know what I know. Sir Owen here thinks to make Gwenthyan so patience: Sir Owen, ’tis all in vains. Well, I go to her brides. — [Exit.
Sir Ow. You prade and you tawg, Gwenthyan, but I made you put on parrels for all your tawg and prade. Rees! where’s Rees? Pring the wands here, Rees.
Rice. They are here, sir, in the twinkling of an eye.
Sir Ow. Cousin, when hur weddings are done and at leisures, I will learn your medicines to tame shrews.
Mar. You shall anon, good cousin Meredith.
Sir Ow. Stand by, Rees; walk in the halls among the servingmans: keep hur wands till I call, hear you now.
Rice. Yes, sir. — [Exit.
Enter FURIO.
Mar. Furio, are Grissil and the other come?
Fu. Yes, they are come.
Mar. Are they employ’d according to our charge?
Fu. They are.
Mar. How does her brother take it?
Fu. Ill.
Afar. How her father?
Fu. Well.
Mar. How herself?
Fu. Better.
Mar. Furio, go call out Grissil from the bride.
Fu. I will. — [Exit FURIO.
Far. It’s pity that fellow was not made a soldier: we should have but a word and a blow at his hands.
Enter JANICULO and BABULO, carrying coals; LAUREO with wood, GRISSIL with wood.
Bab. Master, go you but under the coal staff: Babulo can bear all, staff, basket and all.
Jan. It is the marquess’ pleasure I must drudge.
Load me, I pray thee, I am born to bear.
Lau. But I’ll no longer bear a loggerhead:
Thus I’ll cast down his fuel in despight.
So, though my heart be sad, my shoulder’s light.
Gri. Alas! what do you, brother? see you not
Our dread lord yonder? come, perform his will.
Oh, in a subject this is too, too ill!
Mar. What mean’st thou, fellow, to cast down thy load?
Lau. I have cast down my burthen, not my load:
The load of your gross wrongs lies here like lead.
Mar. What fellow is this?
Gri. Your handmaid Grissil’s brother.
Mar. Take him away into the porter’s lodge.
Lau. Lodge me in dungeons, I will still exclaim
On Gwalter’s cursed acts and hated name.
[Exit with MARIO.
Mar. Grissil, take you his load and bear it in.
Bab. Oh tiger-minded, monstrous marquess! make thy lady a collier?
Mar. What’s that that villain prates so?
Bab. God bless the noble marquess!
Mar. Sirrah, take you his coals. Grissil, depart:
Return, but bear that first.
Gri. With all my heart.
[Exeunt GRISSIL, and BABULO grinning at him.
Mar. Stay you, Janiculo. I have heard you sing.
Jan. I could have sung, when I was free from care.
Mar. What grief can in your aged bosom lie?
Jan. Grief, that I am ungracious in your eye.
Far. Then, would he not desire your company.
[Re-Enter GRISSIL.
Mar. Janiculo, here is a bridal song:
Play you the lark, to greet my blessed sun.
Grissil, are you return’d? play you the morning
To lead forth Gratiana, my bright bride.
Go in, and wait on her. Janiculo,
Sing Hymeneus’ hymns. Music, I say!
[Exit GRISSIL.
Sir Ow. Tawson, Tawson, cousins all; and hear hur sol fas.
THE SONG.
Beauty, arise, shew forth thy glorious shining;
Thine eyes feed love, for them he standeth pining.
Honour and youth attend to do their duty
To thee, their only sovereign beauty.
Beauty arise, whilst we, thy servants, sing,
Io to Hymen, wedlock’s jocund king.
Io to Hymen, Io, Io, sing,
Of wedlock, love, and youth, is Hymen king.
Beauty, arise, thy glorious lights display,
Whilst we sing lo, glad to see this day.
Io, lo, to Hymen Io, Io, sing,
Of wedlock, love, and youth, is Hymen king.
Mar. Art thou as glad in soul as in thy song?
Jan. Who can be glad when he endureth wrong?
Sir Ow. As Cod udge me, Jan Niclas is honest man: he does not flatter, and semblés, but tell his intentions. How? more melodies? Oh! here comes her new pride.
Music sounds. Enter GRISSIL alone; after her the marquess’ son and daughter; JULIA, GWENTHYAN, and other ladies, MARIO and FURIO.
Mar. Salute my beauteous love.
All. All joy betide. To Gratiana, our dear marquess’ bride.
Mar. Bring me a crown of gold to crown my love;
A wreath of willow for despised Grissil.
Gri. Grissil is not despised in your eye,
Sithence you name her name so gently.
Sir Ow. Gwenthyan, there’s wives, there’s patient wives! —
Gwe. Fuh! fuh! is fools: tawson, is errant pooby fools.
Mar. Grissil, place you this crown upon her head;
Put these embroidered slippers on her feet —
’Tis well: deliver me your wedding-ring;
Circle her finger with it. Now stand by.
Art thou content with all? —
Gri. Content with all.
Mar. My bride is crown’d! Now tell me, all of you,
Which of you ever saw my love before?
What is her name, her birth-place, or estate?
Lep. Till now, I never beheld her beauty.
Ono. Nor I.
Urc. Trust me, nor I.
Far. By my troth, nor I.
Ma. We hear that she was born in Germany,
And half heir to the Duke of Brandenburgh.
Mar. You all hear this, and all think this?
All. We do.
Mar. Then, Furio, stand thou forth. —
Lords, in his breast
A loyal servant’s true soul doth rest.
Furio shall be apparell’d in a robe.
Fu. I shall not become it.
Mar. Some that are great put robes on parasites. —
Mario, Lepido, come you two hither:
Are not you richly clad? — have I done so?
Both. What means your grace by this?
Mar. Graceless, have done: —
Truth seldom dwells in a still talking tongue.
Furio, bring Laureo from the porter’s lodge:
Take in Janiculo, and clothe them both
In rich habiliments. They shall awhile
Be flattered with false fortune’s wanton smile.
&nbs
p; Jan. Fortune can do no more than she hath done:
They that are mark’d to woe, to woe must run.
[Exeunt FURIO and JANICULO.
Mar. How do you like my bride?
Gri. I think her blest
To have the love of such a noble lord.
Mar. You flatter me.
Gri. Indeed, I speak the truth;
Only I prostrately beseech your grace,
That you consider of her tender years,
Which, as a flower in spring, may soon be nipp’d
With the least frost of cold adversity.’
Mar. Why are not you then nipp’d? you still seem fresh,
As if adversity’s cold icy hand
Had never laid his fingers on your heart.
Gri. It never touch’d my heart: adversity
Dwells still with them that dwell with misery,
But mild content hath eas’d me of that yoke;
Patience hath born the bruise, and I the stroke.
Enter FURIO, JANICULO, and LAUREO, striving about attire.
Lau. Give him his silks: they shall not touch my back.
Mar. What strife is there? what aileth Laureo?
Lau. I will not wear proud trappings, like a beast,
Yet hourly feel the scornful rider’s spur.
Mar. Clothe old Janiculo in rich attire.
Jan. Do; load me, for to bear is my desire.
Mar. Do ye repine? Nay then, I’ll vex you more.
Grissil, I will receive this second wife
From none but from thy hands: come, give her me.
Gri. I here present you with an endless bliss:
Rich honour, beauteous virtue, virtuous youth.
Long live my lord with her contentedly!
Sir Ow. Marg patience there, Gwenthyan: see you that?
Mar. Grissil, dost thou deliver me this maid
As an untainted flower, which I shall keep,
Despite of envy’s canker, till the rust
Of all-consuming death finish her life?
Gri. I do, my dear lord; and as willingly
As I delivered up my maiden youth.
Mar. What says Janiculo?
Jan. I say but thus:
Great men are gods, and they have power o’er us.
Mar. Grissil, hold fast the right hand of my bride:
Thou wear’st a willow wreath, and she a crown.
True bride, take thou the crown, and she the wreath.
Ma. My gracious lord, you do mistake yourself.
Mar. Peace, peace, thou sycophant! Grissil, receive
Large interests for thy love and sufferance.
Thou gav’st me this fair maid; I, in exchange,
Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker Page 117