University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

Griselda's Apartment. Lenette watching the young children.
Enter Griselda.
GRISELDA.
Sleep they, Lenette?

LENETTE.
Since thou went hence, Madonna,
They have not stirred.

GRISELDA.
My little noble girl,
Doth she rest well?

LENETTE.
The shadow of her brother,
She sleeps and wakes with him; they'd live to die
If they should live to sever.

GRISELDA.
Sayest thou so?
God keep her as He may, if that be true.

LENETTE.
Madonna, why?

GRISELDA.
All things may chance to all,
And this to her.

LENETTE.
Nay, never!

GRISELDA.
But it may,—
Alas! indeed, it may.

LENETTE.
Ah! surely no.
Look at them sleeping, when they smile asleep
Good angels show them what their lives will be,
And the sight makes them glad. I've heard it told
By ancient nurses.

GRISELDA.
Let me see them smile.—
Dear loves! fit company for heavenly ones,
I could believe that silver pennons paused
Above them, and that angels' eyes looked down,
Love-wrapt, as I do now—so pure they seem,
So beautiful, so tender, and so new
From walking in the paths of Paradise:—
Ah! my sweet girl, she smiles! Would God, Lenette,
I could believe thy tale!

LENETTE.
Thou mayest believe it.
What jewels will my noble lady wear
Upon St. Michael's feast?

GRISELDA.
Jewels, Lenette!

LENETTE.
If it shall please you. Thou didst warmly praise
My lord's last gift,—the zone of amethyst,—
The silver one: 'twill clasp right worthily
Thy crimson robes.

GRISELDA.
Aye, robes! Thou dost remind me.
Bring me the gown and kirtle that I wore
When my lord rode to fetch me from the field;—
I had well-nigh forgotten that these two
May soon be one; and if it come to that,
There is much need to learn the lesson well,
And they shall be my book.
(Lenette brings them.)
Thanks, good Lenette!
These maiden-weeds, all lowly as they be,
Teach patience wondrous well.
(Knocking.)
Who's at the door?
(Lenette opens.)

LENETTE.
A message from my lord.

GRISELDA.
Who beareth it?

Enter Martino.
MARTINO.
I, lady.

GRISELDA.
Who art thou?

MARTINO.
Martino Scalza,
The sergeant of the guard.

GRISELDA.
I know thee not.

MARTINO.
'Tis very like thou wilt not hold me hence
In fair remembrace.

GRISELDA.
Why, what bringest thou?

MARTINO.
That which I mean to speak. Great ones, good madam,
Do as they list; and they who suffer of them
Must bear it and bewail. I am not one
To stand against the storm; and, sooth to say,
Madam, I will not.

GRISELDA.
Say what wrings you, sir?

MARTINO.
Thy lord—my master, buds me bear thee what
Thou must take of me.

GRISELDA.
If it come from him,
Speak welcomely; I'll hear it willingly!

MARTINO.
Thus then, I am intrusted to deliver:—
My lord commends me to your patient grace,
And prays you, of your courtesy, to give
Unto me here, without or let or stop,
The little maid your child.

GRISELDA.
So soon?

MARTINO.
Aye! now.

GRISELDA.
What is your warrant, sir?

MARTINO.
His signet-ring,
Behold it here!

GRISELDA.
It never yet set seal
To aught unworthy of his nobleness:
I will obey it.

MARTINO.
Madam, you were best.

GRISELDA.
Yes! but this cometh somewhat suddenly;
Yet I'll obey it. Give me pardon, sir;
Art thou to have my girl?

MARTINO.
Madam, I am.
My lord's behest is that you render it,
Sleeping or waking, here into my hands,
Thereafter—

GRISELDA.
Oh! say on!

MARTINO.
I say too much,
More is not in my message; by your leave
I'll find it here, and quit you.

(Goes to the bed)
GRISELDA.
No! oh, no!
Thou art not gentle, thou wilt wake my babe.

MARTINO.
She'll sleep enough anon.

GRISELDA.
I fear I read
A bitter meaning in your broken speech:
But I'll not think so,—you are not to take her;
Your hands are hard with arquebuss and sword,
Used to the clench of iron. You are fierce,
And soldierlike, and stern; your gentleness
Would crush this little life. What canst thou do
With her whose bed hath been of silks and down,—
Whose food were delicates,—whose rosy beauty
Nought harder than a kiss hath ever touched?
It is not true,—tell me it is not true!

MARTINO.
So true, that I shall take what you refuse me,
If you refuse it longer than my leave.

GRISELDA.
Keep off! I had forgotten: it is true!
Stand there, sir; you shall have her—take her—so.

(Gives the child.)
MARTINO.
'Tis well! thou dost this wisely; and I go.
Pardon the needful pain.

GRISELDA.
Oh! stay, good sergeant.
(Sweet angels make me strong!) Thou askest pardon,
Thou shalt have thanks; render me back my child.

MARTINO.
Nay, madam!

GRISELDA.
But a minute,—she is thine.
Hath he not so commanded? Ah! dear love,
Lie back a breathing space upon this breast—
Thy home no more—thy home and life no more!
My little sleeping girl—my silent daughter!
To-night thou diest for the fault of me,
Thine o'er-fond mother. Therefore, pretty one!—
Aye, smile on so—even as thy father smiled,
And I shall get the heart to say the word,—
Therefore, farewell,—farewell! and let me take
Thine earthly sorrows off with this last kiss:
Thy soul, my little child, is His to have
Who died upon the cross, whereof in token
I sign thee with the sign. Take! here again,
Good sergeant, your young maid.

MARTINO.
I pity you,
And thank you, good my lady.

GRISELDA.
You are courteous
In an ungentle task. If, at the least,
My lord forbade you not, out of your grace
Bury this small slight body in some grave
Where birds and beasts shall miss it.
[Exit Martino with Child.
Ah, Lenette!
He answers not, but goes.

LENETTE.
Dear mistress—cry!
If thou dost feel it, cry upon this wrong,
Let him not part so! I will after him
And bring him back. Oh! let me go!

GRISELDA.
Stay here!
It is no wrong,—he doth it to his own;
Let not thy love lose mine, blaming my lord.
Look to the little Prince, and take these hence,—
Their work is done, and well. I will away;
She shall not see me weep—none shall,—but God!

[Exit Griselda.