Patient Grissel – Act 3, Scene 2

Return to previous scene

Enter URCENZE and ONOPHRIO at several doors, and
FARNEZE in the midst.

 FARNEZE
Onophrio and Urcenze, early met.  Every man take his stand, for there comes a most rich purchase of mirth.  Emulo with his hand in a fair scarf, and Julia with him.  She laughs apace, and therefore I am sure he lies apace.

 Enter EMULO with JULIA.

 ONOPHRIO
His arm in a scarf? Has he been fighting?

FARNEZE
Fighting!  Hang him, coward!

URCENZE
Perhaps he does it to show his scarf.

FARNEZE
Peace!  Here the ass comes.  Stand aside, and see him curvet.

JULIA
Did my new married cousin Sir Owen wound you thus?

EMULO
He certes, as he is allied to the illustrious Julia, I live his devoted, as Signior Emulo’s enemy.  No adulatory language can redeem him from vengeance.  If you please, my most accomplish’d mistress, I will make a most palpable demonstration of our battle.

JULIA
As palpably as you can, good servant.

ONOPHRIO
Oh, she gulls him simply!

FARNEZE
She has reason; is he not a simple gull?

URCENZE
Sound an alarum ere his battle begin.

FARNEZE
Peace, sa, sa, sa.

EMULO
Sir Owen and myself encount’ring, I vail’d 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.

FARNEZE
Oh, ho, ho, this is rare!

JULIA
You did wisely to confer before you combated.

EMULO
Verily we did so, but falling into the hands of bitter words, we retorted a while, and then drew.

ONOPHRIO
True, his gloves to save his hands.

URCENZE
No, his handkercher to wipe his face.

FARNEZE
He sweat pitifully for fear if it were true.  If—

EMULO
I was then encountered 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.

FARNEZE
Nay, they were all scarce one.

EMULO
Divine lady, as I said, we both lying—

FARNEZE
I’ll be sworn thou dost.

EMULO
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 miss’d my embroidered jerkin that I then wore, and with my poniard vapulating and checking his engine down, it cut me a pair of very imperial cloth of gold hose, as least thus long thwart the cannon, as least.

JULIA
And miss’d your leg?

FARNEZE
Ay, and his hose too.

EMULO
And miss’d my leg, most bright star, which advantageous sign I (    ), this leg, having a fair carnation silk stocking on, stumbled, my spangled garters in that imprision fell about my feet, and he fetching a most valorous and ingenious career, invaded my rapier hand, entered this gilded fort, and in that passado vulnerated my hand thus deep, I protest, and contest heaven.

JULIA
No more, it’s too tragical.

EMULO
I conclude.  I thought, by the syntheresis of my soul, I had not been imperished till the blood showing his red tincture at the top of a fair enveloped glove, sunk along my arm, and spoil’d a rich waistcoat in silk and gold, a toy &c.

FARNEZE
He’ll step himself out of his shirt anon.  For God’s sake, step in!

EMULO
My opinion is I shall never recuperate the legitimate office of this member of my arm

ALL THREE
Signior Emulo!

EMULO
Sweet and accomplish’d Signiors!

FARNEZE
Ha, ha!  Madam, you had a pitiful hand with this fool, but see he is recovered.

JULIA
But, servant, where is your other hand?

ONOPHRIO
See, sweet mistress, one is my prisoner.

URCENZE
The other I have ta’en up with the fine finger.

JULIA
Look in his scarf, Farneze, for another.  He has a third hand, and ‘tis pitifully wounded he tells me; pitifully, pitifully!

FARNEZE
Wounded!  Oh palpable!  Come, a demonstration of it.

ONOPHRIO
Give him your larded cloak, Signior, to stop his mouth, for he will undo you with lies.

URCENZE
Come, Signior, one fine lie now to apparel all those former, in some light sarcenet robe of truth.  None, none in this mint?

JULIA
Fie, servant!  Is your accomplish’d courtship nothing but lies?

ONOPHRIO
Fie, signior!  No music in your mouth but battles, yet a mere milk-sop.

URCENZE
Fie, Emulo!  Nothing but wardrop, yet here’s all your trunks of suits.

FARNEZE
Fie Signior!  A scarf about your neck, yet will not hang yourself to hear all this?

JULIA
Servant, I discharge you my service.  I’ll entertain no braggarts.

ONOPHRIO
Signior, we discharge you the court.  We’ll have no gulls in our company.

FARNEZE
Abram, we casher you our company.  We’ll have no minions in court.

EMULO
Oh patience, be thou my fortification!  Italy thou spurnest me for uttering that nutriment which I suck’d from thee.

FARNEZE
How Italy?  Away, you idiot!  Italy infects you not, but your own diseased spirits.  Italy? Out, you froth, you scum!  because your soul is mud, and that you have breathed in Italy, you’ll say Italy have defiled you.  Away you bore!  Thou wilt wallow in mire in the sweetest country in the world.

EMULO
I cannot conceit this rawness.
Italy, farewell! Italians adieu!
A virtuous soul abhors to dwell with you.                                               [Exit.

ALL
Ha, ha, ha!

 Enter MARQUESS and SIR OWEN.

 JULIA
Peace, signiors, here comes the duke my brother.

MARQUESS
Lo, cousin, here they be.  Are ye here, gentlemen?
And Julia, you too?  Then I’ll call your eyes
To testify that to Sir Meredith
I do deliver here four sacred bonds.
Coz, have a care to them, it much behoves you,
For, gentlemen, within this parchment lies
Five thousand ducats payable to him
Just fourteen days before next Pentecost.
Coz, it concerns you, therefore keep it safe.

SIR OWEN
Fah!  Her warrant her shall log them up from sun and moon, and seven stars too I hobs.  But hard you, cousin Marquess.

MARQUESS
Now, what’s the matter?

SIR OWEN
A pox on it, ‘tis scald matter.  Well, well, pray cousin Marquess, use her Lady Grissil a good teal better, for as God udge me, you heard Sir Owen out a cry by maging her sad and powd so, see you?

MARQUESS
Hurt you?  What harm or good reap you thereby?

SIR OWEN
Harm, yes, by God’s lid, a poggie teal of harm, for loog you cousin, and cousin Julia, and shentlemen awl, for awl if to know her wife’s case, you know her tag to wife the widow Gwenthyan.

MARQUESS
True, cousin, and she’s a virtuous gentlewoman.

ONOPHRIO
One of the patientest ladies in the world.

URCENZE
She’s wondrous beautiful and wondrous kind.

FARNEZE
She’s the quietest woman that ere I knew, for good heard, she’ll put up any thing.

JULIA
Cousin, I am proud that you are sped so well.

SIR OWEN
Are you?  By God so are not I.  I’ll tell you what, cousin Marquess, you awl know her well, you know here face is liddle fair and smug, but her has a tongue goes jingle jangle, jingle jangle, petter and worse then pells when her house is a-fire.  Patient?  Ha, ha!  Sir Owen shall tag her heels and run to Wales and her play the tevil so out a-cry terrible a-pogs on her, la.

JULIA
Why, cousin, what are her qualities that you so commend her?

SIR OWEN
Comment her?  No, by God, not I.  Ha, ha!  Is know her qualities petter and petter, for I commend her.  But Gwenthyan is worse and worse out a cry.  Owe out a cry worse, out of all cry.  She’s feared to be made fool as Grissil is, and, as God udge me, her mag fine pobbie fool of Sir Owen.  Her shide and shide, and prawl and scould, by God and scradge terrible sometime.  Owe and had her will do what her can, ha, ha, ha!  and Sir Owen were hansome pacheler agen, pray cousin Marquess tag some order in Grissil, or tedge Sir Owen to mag Gwenthyan quiet and tame her.

MARQUESS
To tame her?  That I’ll teach you presently.
You had no sooner spake the word of taming
But mine eye met a speedy remedy.
See cousin, here’s a plot where osiers grow.
The ground belongs to old Janicola,
My Grissil’s father.  Come, Sir Meredith,
Take out your knife, cut three and so will I.
So, keep yours cousin; let them be safe laid up.
These three, thus wound together, I’ll pleasure.

SIR OWEN
What shall her do now with these?  Peat and knog her Gwenthyan?

 Enter MARIO.

 MARQUESS
You shall not take such counsel from my lips.
How now, Mario?  What news brings thee hither
In such quick haste?

MARIO
Your wife, my gracious lord,
Is now delivered of two beauteous twins;
A son and daughter.

MARQUESS
Take that for thy pains,
Not for the joy hat I conceive thereby,
For Grissil is not gracious in the eye
Of those that love me; therefore I must hate
Those that do make my life unfortunate.
And that’s my children; must I not, Mario?
[Aside.] Thou bowest thy knee, well; I know thy mind.
Virtue in villains can no succour find.
A son and daughter?  I by them will prove
My Grissil’s patience better, and her love.
[To them.]Come Julia, come Onophrio, coz, farewell.
Reserve those wands, these three I’ll bear away
When I require them back, then I will show
How easily a man may tame a shrew.  [Exeunt MARQUESS, JULIA and ONOPHRIO.

SIR OWEN
Ha, ha, ha!  Tame a shrew!  Owe, ‘tis out a cry terrible hard, and more worse then tame a mad pull.  But what mean her cousin to mag her cut her wands?  Ha, ha!  God udge me ‘tis fine knag.  I see her knavery now.  ‘Tis to pang Gwenthyan’s pody and she mag a noise and prabble.  Is not so?  By God’s lid so, and Gwenthyan, Sir Owen will knog you before her abide such horrible dough.

 Enter GWENTHYAN and RICE.

God’s lid, here her comes.  Terdawgh, Gwenthyan, Terdawgh. [“Good day to you, Gwenthyan etc.”]

GWENTHYAN
Terdawgh whee, Sir Owen Terdawgh whee [“Good day to you, Sir Owen, etc.”]

SIR OWEN
Owe, loog here, fine wands, Gwenthyan, is not?

GWENTHYAN
Rees, tag them and preag them in pieces.

RICE
What say you forsooth?

GWENTHYAN
What say you forsooth?  You saucy knave.  Must her tell her once, and twice, and thrice, and four times what to do?  Preag these wands.

SIR OWEN
Rees, is petter preak Rees his pate.  Here Rees, carry her home.

RICE
Would I were at gallows, so I were not here.

GWENTHYAN
Do and her tare, do and her tare, see you now, what shall her do with wands?  Peat Gwenthyan pody?  And mag Gwenthyan put her finger in me hole?  Ha!  By God, by God!  Is scradge her eyes out that tudge her; that tawg to her; that loog on her.  Marg you that, Sir Owen?

SIR OWEN
Yes, her marg her.  Rees, pray marg her lady.

RICE
Not I sir; she’ll set her marks on me then.

GWENTHYAN
Is pread?  Is pread?  go to, Rees.  I’ll Rees her, you tawg you.

SIR OWEN
Pray, Gwenthyan, be patient, as her cousin Grissil is.

GWENTHYAN
Grissil owe? owe?  Grissil?  No, no, no, no, her shall not mag Gwenthyan such ninny pobby fool as Grissil.  I say preak her wands.

SIR OWEN
Cod’s plood is pought her to peat dust out of her cloag and parrels.

GWENTHYAN
Peat her clog and parrels?  Fie, fie, fie!  ‘Tis lie Sir Owen, ‘tis lie!

RICE
Your worship may stab her.  She gives you the lie.

SIR OWEN
Peace, Rees, go to.  I pought them indeed to mag her horse run and go a mighty teal of pace.  Pray, let Rees tag her in, good Gwenthyan.

GWENTHYAN
Rees bear in her wands because Sir Owen beg so gently.

SIR OWEN
Go Rees, go lock them up in a pox of shest; Go.

RICE
You shall not need to bid me go, for I’ll run.                                            [Exit.

SIR OWEN
I pought them for her horse indeed, for here was her cousin Marquess and prought her ponds and keep her wisely.  Sirrah Gwenthyan is tell her prave news.  Grissil is brought to bed of liddle shentleman and shentlewoman.  Is glad out a-cry speag her fair.  Yes, truely, Grissil is brought a-bed.

GWENTHYAN
Grissils.  No pody but Grissils?  What care I for Grissil?  I say, if Sir Owen love Gwenthyan, shall not love Grissil nor Marquess so, see you now?

SIR OWEN
God udge me, not love her cousin?  Is shealous?  Owe, is fine trig, not love her cousin?  God udge me her will, and hand her self, see you now?

GWENTHYAN
Hang her self.  Owe, owe, owe!  Gwenthyan’s tother husband is scrawn to say hang her self.  Hand her self?  Owe, owe, owe, owe!

SIR OWEN
God’s plood!  What cannon get by prawles, is get by owe, owe, owe!  Is terrible, lady, pray be peace and cry no more owe, owe, owe!  Tawsone Gwenthyans! [“Hold your tongue, Gwenthyan!”] God udge me, is very fury!

GWENTHYAN
O mon Iago, mon due! [“Oh, by Saint James, by God!”] Hang Gwenthyans?

SIR OWEN
Adolgo whee Gwenthyan, bethogh en Thlonigh, er moyen due! [“Prithee, Gwenthyan, be quiet for God’s sake!”]

GWENTHYAN

Ne vethoen Thlonigh  Gna wathe gethla Tee! [“I shan’t be quiet.  Do the worst thou canst!”] Hang Gwenthyans?

SIR OWEN
Sir Owen shall say no more.  Hang her self.  Be out a-cry still, and her shall pye her new card to ride in, and two new fine horses, and more plew coats and padges ta follow her heels, see you now?

GWENTHYAN
But will her say no more hang her self?

 Enter RICE.

 SIR OWEN
Oh, no, as God udge me, no more!  Pray leave, owe, owe, owe!

RICE
[Aside to GWENTHYAN.] Tannekin the Froe hath brought your rebato.  It comes to three pound.

SIR OWEN
What a pestilence is this for Gwenthyan?

GWENTHYAN
For her nag, is called repatoes.  Gwenthyan wear it here.  Is’t not prave?

SIR OWEN
Prave?  yes, is prave, ‘tis repatoes, I warrant her.  I patoes money out a-cry.  Yes, ‘tis prave.  Rees the preece?  Rees the preece?

RICE
The Froe, sir, says five pound.

SIR OWEN
Ha, ha, ha!  Pound!  Gwenthyan, pray, do not pye it.

GWENTHYAN
By God udge me, her shall pye it.

SIR OWEN
God udge me her shall not.

GWENTHYAN
Shall not?  Rees, tag her away.  I say her shall and wear it pye and pye.

SIR OWEN
Then mag a pobbie fool of Sir Owen indeed.  God’s plood shall?  I say shall not.  Five pound for puble, for patoes!  Here there [Tears it.], so tag it now.  Wear it now pout her neg.  Shall pridle Sir Owen, ha?

RICE
Oh, rare, Sir Owen!  Oh, precious knight!  Oh, rare Sir Owen!

GWENTHYAN
Out, you rascals!  You prade and prade.  I’ll brade your neacs.

RICE
Oh, rare Madam!  Oh, precious Madam!  Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh.                 [Exit.

GWENTHYAN
Is domineer now.  You tear her ruffs and repatoes.  You preak her ponds.  I’ll tear as good ponds, and petter too.

 [Tears the bonds.

 SIR OWEN
Owe, Gwenthyan!  Cod’s plude is five thousand ducats!  Hold, hold, hold!  A pogs on her pride!  What has her done?

GWENTHYAN
Go loog.  Is now paid for her repatoes.  I’ll have her wills and desires.  I’ll teadge her pridle her lady.  Catho crogge!, Ne verho, en Thlonigh gna wathee Getha tee!  [“May she hang!  I shan’t be quiet, do the worst thou canst!”]

[Exit.

SIR OWEN
A breath vawer or no tee! [“The great pox on thee!”] Pridle her, Sir Owen is pridled, I warrant.  Widows, were petter God’s plude marry whore, were petter be hang’d and quarter, then marry widows, as God udge me!  Sir Owen fall on her knees, and pray God to tag her to her mercy, or else put petter mind in her lady.  Awl Prittish shentlemens tag heed how her marry fixen widow!
Sir Owen ap Meredith can rightly tell,
A shrew’s sharp tongue is terrible as hell.                                       [Exit.

Proceed to next scene

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

%d bloggers like this: