Patient Grissel – Act 4, Scene 3

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Enter GWENTHYAN and RICE; she meanly, he like a cook.

 GWENTHYAN
Rees, lay her table and set out her fitails, and preads, and wines, and ail, and pear, and salt for her guess.

RICE
Yes, forsooth my lady, but what shall I do with all yonder beggars?

GWENTHYAN
Send out the peggars into her lady, go.

RICE
How?  The beggars in.  We shall have a lousy feast, madam.                  [Exit RICE.

GWENTHYAN
You rascals prate no more, but fetch them in.  Shall pridle Sir Owen a good teal will enough, is warrant her.  Sir Owen is gone to bid her cousin Marquess and a meiny to dine at her house, but Gwenthyan shall kive her dinner, I warrant her, for peggars shall have all her meat.

Enter RICE with company of Beggars; a table is set with meat.

 RICE
Come, my hearts, troop, troop; every man follow his leader.  Here’s my lady.

ALL
God bless your ladyship, God bless your ladyship!

GWENTHYAN
I thang you my good peggars.  Rees, pring stools, sid awl down, Rees, pring more meat.

RICE
Here, madam, I’ll set it on, tak’t off who will.

FIRST BEGGAR
Let us alone for that.  My lady, shall we scramble or eat mannerly?

GWENTHYAN
Peggars, I hobe, have no manners, but first hear me, pray you now, and then fall to our a cry.

FIRST BEGGAR
Peace, hear my lady.  Jack Mumble-Crust, steal no penny loaves.

GWENTHYAN
Peggars awl, you know Sir Owen?

ALL
Passing well, passing well, God bless his worship!

FIRST BEGGAR
Madam, we know him as well as a beggar knows his dish.

GWENTHYAN
All these fittals is made for cousin Marquess.  Sir Owen is gone to fedge him, but Sir Owen has anger her lady.

FIRST BEGGAR
More shame for him, he’s not a knight, but a knitter of caps for it.

GWENTHYAN
Sir Owen has anger her lady, and therefore her lady is anger Sir Owen.

FIRST BEGGAR
Make him a cuckold, madam, and upon that I drink to you.  Helter skelter here, rogues.  Top and top gallant; pell mell, huftie tuftie, hem, God save the Duke, and a fig for the hangman!

GWENTHYAN
Rees, fedge wine and pears enough, and fall to peggar, and eat awl her share, and tomorrow, see you now, pray do.

[A drunken feast; they quarrel and grow drunk, and pocket up the meat, the dealing of cans like a set at maw.  Exit RICE.

GWENTHYAN
Nay, I pray peggars, be quiet, tag your meats.  You have trinks enough, I see, and get you home now, good peggars.

FIRST BEGGAR
Come you rogues, let’s go tag and rag, cut and long tail.  I am victualed for a month.  God b’oy, madam, pray God Sir Owen and you may fall out every day.  Is there any harm in this now?  Hey tri-lill, give the dog a loaf, fill the t’other, pot your whore, and God save the Duke!                                                           [Exeunt Beggars.

GWENTHYAN
I thang you, good peggars.  Ha, ha!  This is a fine sport, by God, is have peggars eat her fittals all day long.

 Enter SIR OWEN and RICE.

 SIR OWEN
Where is the sheer, Rees?  Cod’s plood, where?

RICE
I beseech you, sir, be patient.  I tell you the beggars have it.

SIR OWEN
Wad a pogs is do with peggars?  Wad is peggars do at knight’s house?  Is peggars Sir Owen’s guests, Rees?

RICE
No, Sir Owen, they were my lady’s guests.

SIR OWEN
Ha?  You hungry rascals, where’s here Lady Gwenthyan?  Cod’s plood!  Eat her sheer and cousin Marquess, come.

RICE
I know not where my lady is, but there’s a beggar woman.  Ask her, for my lady dealt her alms amongst them her self.

SIR OWEN
A pogs on you, peggar whore.  Where’s their pread and sheer?  Cod udge me, I’ll peggar you for fittals!

GWENTHYAN
Hawld, hawld, hawld!  What is mad now?  Here is her lady.  Is her lady peggar, you rascals?

RICE
No, sweet madam, you are my lady.  A man is a man though he have but a hose on his head, and you are my lady though you want a hood.

SIR OWEN
How now?  How now?  Ha, ha!  Her lady in tawny coat and tags and rags so?  Where is her meat, Gwenthyan?  Where is her sheer?  Her cousin Marquess is here and great tale of shentlefolks and laties and lawrds, py and py.

GWENTHYAN
What care her for laties or cousin too.  Fittals is awl gone.

SIR OWEN
Ow, gone?  Is her lady mad?

GWENTHYAN
No, our lord is mad.  You tear her ruffles and repatoes, and pridle her.  Is her pridled now?  I’ll tedge her pridle her lady again.  Her cousin Marquess shall  eat no pread and meat here, and her lady Gwenthyans will go in tags and rags, and like a peggar to vex and chafe Sir Owen, see you now?

SIR OWEN
A pogs see her!  Cod’s blood!  What is do now, Rees?

RICE
Speak her, fair master, for she looks wildly.

SIR OWEN
Is look wildly indeed.  Gwenthyan, pray go in, and put pravery upon her pack and pelly.  Cod udge me, is pie new repatoes and ruffs for her lady.  Pray do so, pray good ladies.

RICE
Do, good madam.

GWENTHYAN
Gato grogi! [“May she hang!”] Gwenthyan scorns her flatteries.  Her lady go no petter.  Sir Owen, hang her self!

SIR OWEN
O myn Iago! [“Oh, by {Saint} James!”] Her Prittish plood is not endure it, by Cod!  A pogs on her!  Put on her fine coats is pest.  Put on, go to, put on!

RICE
Put off, Sir Owen, and she’ll put on.

GWENTHYAN
A pogs on her!  Is put on none, but go like peggar.

SIR OWEN
Rees, go mag fire, and let her have more sheer.

GWENTHYAN
Rees, mag fire, and I’ll scald her like pig, see you now?

RICE
I shall be peppered how e’er the market goes.

SIR OWEN
Mag great teal of fire, or Sir Owen shall knog your ears.

GWENTHYAN
Make little teal of fire, or Gwenthyan shall cut off your ears and pob you, Rees, see you now?

RICE
Hold, good madam.  I see you and feel you too.  Y’are able to set stones together by th’ears.  I beseech you, be quiet both.  I’ll make a fire, Sir Owen, to please you.

SIR OWEN
Do, Rees.  I’ll pridle her ladies well enough.

GWENTHYAN
Will you, you rascals?

RICE
Nay, but hear you, sweet madam.  I’ll make a fire to please, Sir Owen, and when it burns, I’ll quench it to please you.                                                                          [Exit.

Enter FARNEZE apace.

FARNEZE
Ha, ha, ha!  Why, how now, Sir Owen?  Your cousin, the Marquess and all your guests are at hand, and I see no meat towards.

SIR OWEN
Is no meat towards, but her Laty is fery untoward.

FARNEZE
What baggage is this stands laughing then?

SIR OWEN
A pogs on her!  ‘Tis our Laty baggage; ‘tis Gwenthyan.

FARNEZE

How, my Lady Gwenthyan?  Ha, ha, ha!

 Enter MARQUESS, JULIA, ONOPHRIO, URCENZE, and MARIO.

 MARQUESS
You see, Sir Owen, we are soon invited.
Where is your wife, the Lady Gwenthyan?

SIR OWEN
Is come py and py.  Cod udge me, Gwenthyan, pray, put on your pravery and fine knags, and shame not Sir Owen.  Yes, truly, Gwenthyan is come py and py.  Mae ‘ngras wrthych chwi, [“My grace is with you!”] cousin Marguess, Man ‘ngras wrthych chwi, Julia.  Is welcome all!

FARNEZE
Ha, ha!  Welcome!  Come, come, madam, appear in your likeness, or rather in the likeness of another.  My lord, y’are best send back to your own cooks, if your mean to set your teeth a-work today.

MARQUESS
Why, Farneze, what’s the matter?

FARNEZE
Nay, there’s no such matter in it.  The fire’s quench’d, the victuals given to beggars.  Sir Owen’s kitchen looks like the first chaos, or like a broker’s stall, full of odd ends, or like the end of some terrible battle, for upon every dresser lies legs and feathers, and heads of poor capons and wild fowl that have been drawn and quartered, and now mourn that their carcasses are carried away.  His cooks are not rheumatic, for there’s no spitting. Here lie fish in a pitiful pickle, there stands the coffins of pies, wherein the dead bodies should have been buried, but their ghosts have forsaken their graves and walk’d abroad.  The best sport is to see the scullions, some laughing, some crying, and whilst they wipe their eyes they black their faces.  The cooks curse her lady, and some pray for our lord.

MARQUESS
Sir Owen Meredith, is all this true?

SIR OWEN
True, et is true, I warrant her.  Pogs on her, too true!

ONOPHRIO
You told his grace you had tam’d your wife.

SIR OWEN
By Cod, is tell her a lie then, her wife has pridled and tam’d her indeed.  Cousin Marquess, pecause Grissil is made fool and turn away, Gwenthyan is mag fool of Sir Owen.  Is good?  Ha!  Is good?

GWENTHYAN
‘Tis lie, cousin Marquess, is terrible lie!  Taw son, yn enw’r Diawl! [“Hold thy tongue in the name of the Devil!”].  ‘Tis lie, ‘tis lie!  Sir Owen tear her repatoes and ruffs and pridle her laty, and bit her hang herself, but is pridled, I warrant her, is not, Sir Owen?

SIR OWEN
Atolwg I chwi, byddwch yn llonydd er mwyn Duw, Gwenthyan! [“Prithee, be quiet, for God’s sake, Gwenthyan!”]

GWENTHYAN
Ni fydda un llonydd, gwna waetha gelli di! [“I shan’t be quiet, do the worst thou canst!”]

URCENZE
What says she, Sir Owen?

SIR OWEN
I pray, and pray her for Cod’s love, be quiet.  ‘Sblood, her say her will not be quiet, so what Sir Owen can.  Myn Duw, Gwenthyan, mi gnocia dy ben, bob  dydd a bob nos! [“By God, Gwenthyan, I’ll knock thy head, every day and every night!”]

GWENTHYAN
Gweld sich ola fuasech chwi ‘y nharo I! [“Seeing your last, you’ll be, striking me!”]

JULIA
Stand between them, Farneze.

FARNEZE
You shall bob no nose here.

GWENTHYAN
‘Y nhato I?  Mi grafa dy lygaid di allan o’ th ben di o droi mewn dicter! [“Strike me?  I’ll scratch your eyes out of your head for turning on me in anger!”]

ONOPHRIO
Doth she threaten you, Sir Owen?  Bind her to the peace.

SIR OWEN
By Cod, is threaten her indeed!  Her says she’ll scradge out Sir Owen’s eyes, and her frown upon her, a pogs on her nails!

MARQUESS
[Aside.] Oh my dear Grissil!  How much different
Art thou to this curst spirit here.  I see
My Grissil’s virtues shine. [Aloud.] Sir Meredith
And Cousin Gwenthyan, come; I’ll have you friends.
This dinner shall be sav’d, and all shall say
‘Tis done because ‘tis Gwenthyan’s fasting day.

GWENTHYAN
Gwenthyan scawrns to be friends.  Her lady will be master Sir Owen.

SIR OWEN

By Cod, I’ll see her lady hang’d first.  Cousin Marquess and cousins awl, pray tag time and stay here.  Rees shall dress more fittels, and shall dine her in spite of her lady.  Cod’s plood, Rees, Rees!                                                                                  [Exit.

GWENTHYAN
Will you?  Is try that py and py.  Steddwch chwi I lawr. [“Sit down”] Cousin Marquess, Steddwch chwi I lawr.  Shentlemen, Gwenthyan is not pridled so soon.                                                                                                                               [Exit.

MARQUESS
I’ll see the peace kept sure, do what he can,
I doubt his wife will prove the better man.                                                             [Exit.

JULIA
Signior Mario, you say nothing.  How like you this interlude?

MARIO
So well, madam, that I rather wish to play the beggar, then a king’s part in it in Sir Owen’s apparel.

JULIA
Why, this it is to be married.  Thus you see those that go to woo, go to woe.  Oh, for a drum to summon all my lovers, my suitors, my servants together!

FARNEZE
I appear, sweet mistress, without summons.

ONOPHRIO
So does Onophrio.

URCENZE
So does Urcenze.

JULIA
Signior Emulo, I see, will not appear without calling.

FARNEZE
No faith, madam, he’s blown up.  No calling can serve him.  He has ta’en another manner of calling upon him, and I hope repents the folly of his youth.

JULIA
If he follow that vocation well, he’ll prove wealthy in wit.

URCENZE
He had need, for his head is very poor.

FARNEZE
Well, mistress, we appear without drumming, what’s you parley?  And yet, not so; your eyes are the drums that summon us.

URCENZE
And your beauty, the colours we fight under.

ONOPHRIO

And the touch of your soft hand arms at all points with devotion to serve you, desire to obey you, and vows to love you.

JULIA
Nay then, in faith, make me all soldier, mine eyes a drum, my beauty your colours, and my hand your armour.  What becomes of the rest?

FARNEZE
It becomes us to rest, before we come to the rest.  Yet for a need we could turn you into an armoury, as for example, your lips, let me see, no point of war for your lips?  Can I put them to no use but kissing?  Oh yes, if you charge them to shoot out unkind language to us that stand at your mercy, they are two culverins to destroy us.

JULIA
That I’ll try.  My tongue shall give fire to my words presently.

ALL
Oh, be more merciful, fair Julia.

JULIA
Not I.  Would you have me pity you and punish myself?  Would you wish me to love?  How bitter?  How full of blemishes?  My lord and brother insults our Grissil. That makes me glad.  Gwenthyan curbs Sir Owen.  That makes you glad.  Sir Owen is mastered by his mistress.  That makes you mad.  Poor Grissil is martyred by her lord.  That makes you merry, for I always wish that a woman may never meet better bargains when she’ll thrust her sweet liberty into the hands of a man.  Fie upon you!  You’re nothing but wormwood, and oak, and glass.  You have bitter tongues, hard hearts and brittle faith.

ONOPHRIO
Condemn us not till you try our loves.

JULIA
Sweet servant, speak not in this language of love.  Gwenthyan’s peevishness and Grissil’s patience make here to defy that ape Cupid.  If your love stand upon his laws, I charge you leave it.  I charge you neither to sigh for love, nor speak of love, nor frown her hate.  If you sigh I’ll mock you.  If you speak, I’ll stop mine ears.  If you frown, I’ll bend my fist.

FARNEZE
Then you’ll turn warrior indeed.

JULIA
Had I not need encountering with such enemies?  But say, will you obey and follow me or disobey, and I’ll fly you?

ONOPHRIO
I obey, since it is your pleasure.

URCENZE
I obey, though I taste no pleasure in it.

FARNEZE
I obey too, but so God help me, mistress, I shall show you a fair pair of heels and cry a new mistress a new, if any pitiful creature will have me.

JULIA
Better lost then found, if you be so wavering.

  Enter MARQUESS, LEPIDO, SIR OWEN, GWENTHYAN brave, and
FURIO.

 MARQUESS
Furio, hie thee to old Janicola’s
Charge him, his daughter Grissil, and his son,
To come to court, to do such office
Of duty to our marriage as shall like
Our state to lay upon them.

JULIA
Oh, my lord,
Vex not poor Grissil more, alas, her heart—

MARQUESS
Tut, tut!  I’ll have my will and tame her pride.
I’ll make her be a servant to my bride.
Julia, I’ll bride her.

JULIA
You do her wrong.

MARQUESS
Sister, correct that error.  Come, Sir Owen.
Is not this better music then your brawls?

SIR OWEN
Yes, as Cod udge me, is.  How, cousin Julia, is out a cry friends now. Gwenthyan is laugh and be fery patience now.  Sir Owen kiss her lady a great teal now, see else?

FARNEZE
Ay, but, Sir Owen, the kissing her lady is no mirth to us, if we kiss the post.

SIR OWEN
Owe, her cousin Marquess has terrible mighty news for tell her, or else is made ready a great banquet at home for awl.  Pray, come home, is awl ready for her.  Her lady say not bo peep now, but first hear her cousin Marquess news.

MARQUESS
Julia and gentlemen, these are the news,
Brought on the wings of hast and happiness
By trusty Lepido. Our endear’d brother
Is hard at hand, who in his company
Brings my fair second choice a worthy bride
Attended by the states of Pavio.
She’s daughter to the Duke of Brandenburg.
Now shall no subject’s envious should 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 borne
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 remembered too.
Bring you three wands, Sir Owen, to the court
Though Gwenthyan look with a smoother eye,
I’ll teach you how to win the sovereignty.

SIR OWEN
Is glad of that, ha, ha, ha!  Tag heed of winds, lady.

GWENTHYAN
Tag heed of nails, knight.

MARQUESS
We play the unthrifts in consuming time.
Though your curst wife make some afraid to woe,
Yet I’ll woe once more and be married too.

SIR OWEN
Cog udge me, Sir Owen, would hang before her marry once more, if I were another patchelor.  Marry owe!                                                                            [Exeunt omnes.

Proceed to the next scene

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