University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Griselda's Robing-room.
Lenette and the women of Griselda.
LENETTE.

Lay the robes there, and fetch forth the cinture
and minivers. My Lady weareth none else tomorrow.

JACINTA.

How knowest thou?

LENETTE.

'Twas her wedding-gear, wench; and to-morrow
is twelve years that she hath needed to weep for
wearing them.

JACINTA.

And I could weep to wear them! 'Twill be a
brave show, if it match the glitter of this, Lenette.

LENETTE.

'Tis a fine fashion!

JACINTA.

Dio! thou sayest but little;—where throne they
to-morrow?

LENETTE.

In the great hall—all the country is coming to
greet may lady.

JACINTA.

She hath graciously earned their greeting.

LENETTE.

Aye! and all the wages that this poor world
pays virtue.

JACINTA.

Bertram told me he had written a song on her
patience.

LENETTE.

If my lord know, he will not sing it twice: but,
in sooth, if pitiful words could stead her, a wrong
should be quickly righted. There is none that hath
not a fair story of her.

JACINTA.

Nay, 'tis so! Shall I set forth these broidures?
—they are marvellous fit.

LENETTE.

Silk vest shroudeth sad breast:—it would dull
thy praise to know what a heart these shall hide.
But my lady cometh soon; do thou take these
hence, Jacinta.

JACINTA.

And these small girdles?—how fine their silver is!

LENETTE.

Let them lie! my lady sayeth ever a prayer for
the little ones they circled; it may be she will take
pleasure to see them.

Enter Griselda.
GRISELDA.
My girl! bear hence my service to thy lord—
Tell him I would his steps might this way bend,
His leisure being come.
[Exit Jacinta.
What now, Lenette,
Wherefore these gauds?

LENETTE.
Madam, we sought to find
What gems and vesture might least misbecome
Their wearer at the feast.

GRISELDA.
I' the court to-morrow?

LENETTE.
Good lady, yes!

GRISELDA.
I know not that I need them.
The Book saith, Solomon in all his glory
Wore none such raiment as the lilies wear.

LENETTE.
Look! here are silver lilies.

GRISELDA.
Even thus
Their country sisters shame them.

LENETTE.
For a day!
Most wise madonna.

GRISELDA.
Ah! Lenette, Lenette!
Ah! measure nothing by the space it stays!
Who loves not dear delight, though it die soon,
Ended by only being. I'd a dream,—
A very short sweet dream of motherhood,
That died away as summer lilies do.
Oh, Mary Mother! there are twelve years gone,
And none of all their months hath brought a joy
Like what one took away.

LENETTE.
These lilies, madam,
My lord the Marquis gave.

GRISELDA.
Aye! and the others!
Thou speakest well,—in faith, a pretty thing.

LENETTE.
I mind you said so once.

GRISELDA.
I say so now;
The more that they bring back to memory,
As the others bring the pleasant sun to mind,
My marriage morning. But I'll wear no flowers;—
Lilies grow low, Lenette.

LENETTE.
And all unseen,

GRISELDA.
They toil not,—runs it not so? Yesternight
I won my father from his cottage home
To see my splendours, but he praised them not
Beyond his wont;—he held them all in scorn,
Something too long, whereat I led his steps
Along the terrace. Know'st thou where my vines
Run o'er the garden olives, and the elms,
Hanging their purple berries on strange stems,
And crowning the grave trees like revellers?
We rested there. I said,—These leafy bowers,
These flowers of gold starring a sky of green,—
Is it not dainty fair? Say that of these!
Ah me!—he pointed out between the stalks,
And not an arrow's flight away, there stood
A hut,—about it gleamed those lowly lilies,
Those lilies clad more gorgeously than kings;
And underneath its eaves God's pensioner
And man's light friend, the swallow, nested thick;
And from the vineyard came the goodman home,
Red from his work i' the fruit; and a low door,
Made lower with the leaves that corniced it,
Gave a young mother and her gold-haired girl
Unto our eyes—whose eyes awaited him:
And all the happy circumstance of this,
God's equal sunshine cast a glory on,
And touched it into perfectness and peace;—
While mine stood in cold shadow.—Girl! I wept!

LENETTE.
I would you did weep more!

GRISELDA.
Wherefore, Lenette?

LENETTE.
That so the grief
Which lies a large dark lake within your heart,
Might come in rivers from your yielded eyes
And ease you, madam.

GRISELDA.
Of what load, Lenette?

LENETTE.
A twelve-years' gathered one. Oh pardon me,
Too patient mistress mine,—a load of loss
Crushing the heart that bears it silently.

GRISELDA.
Art thou not bold? how knowest thou what I bear?

LENETTE.
Less loving eyes and leal know what I know,
Thy mirror sees it, and the tell-tale breeze,
Finding dead lilies where young roses were,
Goes past thy sad face sighing.

GRISELDA.
By my crown!—

LENETTE.
I speak the truth,—else dared I not to speak;
Nay, frown on me, but be as I am bold;
Say with thine eyes that thy life dies for lack
Of what these girdles rounded.

(Showing them to Griselda.)
GRISELDA.
Ah! sweet souls!
Give them me here, where gott'st them?

[She takes the girdles, and kneeling down, covers them with kisses. The Marquis meantime enters, who motions to Lenette to leave the apartment, remaining unseen to Griselda till she rises.
GRISELDA.
I did not mean thou shouldst have seen me weep?

MARQUIS.
And wherefore weepest thou?

GRISELDA.
For what is not,
And cannot be, and therefore foolishly.

MARQUIS.
Thy tears are wet upon these silver zones:
Wherefore?

GRISELDA.
Am I to speak?

MARQUIS.
If it shall please you

GRISELDA.
Our children that are gone these twelve years wore them.

MARQUIS.
Grievest thou them gone with grief a twelve-years old?

GRISELDA.
Aye, lord! I must.

MARQUIS.
How fits thine oath with that?

GRISELDA.
Faithfully still,—my sorrow murmurs not.

MARQUIS.
I knew not that it lived.

GRISELDA.
Thou hadst not known
But for this chance.

MARQUIS.
Now knowing, was it well
To cover sadness with a cheek serene,
And smile me back my smiles?

GRISELDA.
Aye! very well.

MARQUIS.
Give me the toys.—Why then, thou lovedst thy babes?

GRISELDA.
Thou shalt have answer, lord. I loved my life,—
The pleasant air I breathed, the stretching skies,—
God's gracious summer, with its fruits and flowers,
Fine sounds, fair sights,—earth's every circumstance,
As a most happy woman and a wife
Might in her May-time: but, with heart and mind
Ten times more fast and set, I loved those twain.

MARQUIS.
And yet thou gav'st them?

GRISELDA.
Yes! thee I loved more!

MARQUIS.
I think it. Wherefore sent'st thou?

GRISELDA.
If I might,
To know what care keeps thee these two months pale.
Hast thou that news from Rome thou didst look for?

MARQUIS.
Why yes, my girl! to-morrow in the hall
Thou shalt thyself deliver it; none else
So fitly, as I think. Come with me now.

SCENE II.

The Presence Chamber.
Courtiers, &c., Bertram, Bertolo, Lenette, Jacinta, Antonio, &c.
BERTRAM.

Will they not come? Who'll go a voyage for
tidings?

JACINTA.

I for one.

BERTRAM.

And I; one and one make two.

BERTOLO.

An thou dost so readily multiply, one and one
shall make three.

ANTONIO.

Nay, he was ever quick at numbers,—'tis his
vocation.

BERTRAM.

Heed them not, Jacinta.

JACINTA.

I!—I speak with my cheeks.

ANTONIO.

Aye, so they grow roses; may a man touch at
these, and defy rain.

JACINTA
(striking him).

So he fear not the thunder.

BERTRAM.

Ha! ha! by my lute, well stormed!

ANTONIO.

Swearest thou by cat-gut?

BERTRAM.

Aye, a string of oaths, that of thee spake the wise
Arnaultz:—

More foolish than fat,
And more feeble than that.

(He thrums his guitar.)
ANTONIO.

Hast thou more of like matter?

BERTRAM.

Needs it?

ANTONIO.

Aye, to sing thyself into a fever with—then if
thou lackest leech, I will blood thee.

BERTRAM.

Wilt thou? thy fee shall be the fee-simple of thy
length in land.

LENETTE.

Sirs, my lady cometh, let this end.

BERTOLO.

Certes! it were ill brawling, and she so gentle.

ANTONIO.

I sheathe my tongue.

BERTRAM.

And I:—are they at hand?

LENETTE.

Do you not see the people how they press her for
a smile? They have but one voice for her name,
and one heart to bless it.

ANTONIO.

Yet she smileth little.

LENETTE.

For the very good cause meseems, that she hath
none.

JACINTA.

Thou sayest it!—the Marquis looketh but ill
pleased.

LENETTE.

He hath nought in this greeting, and liketh it
nought; but they enter.

Enter Marquis, Griselda, and Attendants, amid the rejoicing of the people.
OMNES.

Health to the lady Griselda!

[Pietro kneels.
GRISELDA.

Why kneel'st thou, good Pietro?

PIETRO.
To lay in loving words the people's greeting
At thy kind feet.

GRISELDA
(raising him).
Thus let me lift it then
As high as to my heart.
(To Frederigo, a Courtier)
And wherefore thou?

FREDERIGO.
Long time ago I spake ill things of thee,
Which sin thy gentle pity punished most,—
I sue for pardon, where these have thy love.

GRISELDA.
Thanks for thy bettered thought, if thou lack'st mine,
Keep thy heart light, good friend!

OMNES.
Long live our lady!

MARQUIS.
Lords and leal hearts, my lady hath no phrase
To stead her gratefulness, but she doth mind,
Some half-score summers back this very day,
Fair Sirs! how stiffly your joints bent to her:
Sweet dames! how scornfully ye crown'd the braids,
Whose tiring-women were but Health and Youth:
Sith she stands better; let this late-got grace
Make a late-given thing not less a gift.

OMNES.
Long live lord Walter!

MARQUIS
to Griselda.
I prithee play the clerk;
Thou bad'st me tell thee my last news from Rome.

BERTOLO
(aside).

A revel, I warrant ye.

LENETTE.

Or a tourney.

ANTONIO.

Three days' fiesta, and the fountains to run wine.

BERTOLO.

Nay 'tis a bull; mark but the broad sigil of it.

BERTRAM.

Baccho! what cometh?

ANTONIO.

Hold thy peace! she reads.

[Griselda first glances at the paper and extends it doubtfully to the Marquis, who signs command. She descends slowly from her throne, and taking off her crown lays it at Walter's feet.
GRISELDA.
Good friends! our Holy Father,
Who hath on earth the keys to bind and loose,
Doth herein freely
Loose our most noble lord and this fair state
From an unworthy wife and unfit lady.
(They raise a confused murmur of discontent.)
Nay, let me end;—and lest this palace lack
A queenly presence, and Saluzzo's house
For lack of young ones fail—

MARQUIS.
Canst not thou read?

GRISELDA.
Aye, Sir!—it granteth leave and faculty
Of a fresh spousal and new wedding vows,
None other hindrance letting than the old.

(She returns the paper.)
MARQUIS.
Why so? ye scowl upon me, and your hands
Play with your dagger-hilts; ye bade me wive,
I took a wife; ye held her all too base
To breed you kings, I sent them otherwhere
Those that she bore: now will I for your loves
Marry me royally, what would ye else?
[To Griselda.
Certes, Griselda, it was pleasance dear
To call thee wife, not I from what I chose
Sunder my heart; but what a serf holds safe
A king must love and lose,—and, sooth to say,
She that shall have thy place is distant hence
Only a two-days' stage.

GRISELDA.
The high God guard her!
It shall be void! (After a pause.)
It may be that a queen
Should speak a braver speech to keep a crown,
But I—ah memory! I think not on that,
Something I need to say. Thou ledd'st me here;
In show thy equal wife, in heart thy servant,—
Thy mindful servant. And so have I been;
And so I thank thee now for thy long love,
And so—I yield it.

MARQUIS.
Why then! this goes well!
As thou art patient-hearted, take with thee,
I give it of my grace, what dower ye brought me.

GRISELDA.
Thou wottest, Walter, that I brought thee none.
My lord, why sayest thou that? this ring is thine,
Ah, the good God! how gentle and how kind
Thou wert that day; these braveries be thine,—
Rich gifts of lost love, here I render them,—
And this,—and these; they have no lustre less,
'Tis love that is not old, as when 'tis new.
The remnant of your jewels ready be,
I kept them safe, as I kept all sweet words,
And looks, and thoughts of thine; only these last
Are heart-stores, and I cannot render them;
The others thou shalt have, for with them all
Ye decked me of your grace; but for the dower,
Sooth of my bringing, there is none to take;
For faith, and first-love, and my maiden name,
And what poor praise my village beauty had,
Came with me here, and I shall leave them here;
And beside these, I had not—save the weeds
They stripped me of, long lost: my robes are there,
(She takes off her velvet gown and mantle.)
But these are thine, I am so wholly thine
That thou canst shame me, taking what is thine;
Yet out of pity, for dear honour's sake,
Give one gift more, and let me not go hence
Smockless. They are not here to speak for me,
Yet I did bear thee children. Ah, good lord!
It cannot be thy will,—though 'tis thy word,—
To send their mother gazed at from thy gate,
Naked and shamed.

MARQUIS.
The smock upon thy back
Let it rest there, and bear it forth with thee.

[Exit Marquis.
PIETRO.
By our lady, this shall not go thus!

OMNES.
No, no!

LENETTE.
Madam! Madam! take again thy crown.

OMNES.
Aye, it shall not off!

ANTONIO.
Oh! thou noble patience, oh my idle blade!
Good lady! let me draw it.

OMNES.
Out blades all,
She shall be only queen!

GRISELDA.
Good people, peace!
Thou wearest that steel to guard thy lord, Antonio.
Lenette take these, and see the jewels safe.
I thank you all, I thank you much. Farewell!

[Exit Griselda, the people following.

SCENE III.

Janicola's Cottage.
Janicola stooping over the embers of a fire. Enter Griselda, who walks to the press, and takes from its place her old gown and kirtle, stoops over her father and kisses him on the cheek; and then takes the herbs that are beside him and finishes the preparation of his meal. She places it before him, while he looks fixedly on her. Then she fetches her spinning-wheel, and, sitting down, begins to spin. Janicola at last speaks slowly.
If thou art come from heaven,—a white angel,
To stead me so, why thou art come in time.
I am nigh gone with age, and lack of sight
Of my scorned daughter; but if thou art she
These should be silks,—or is it all not so,
And no years gone?

GRISELDA.
Sir, there are twelve years gone
Since I did tend thee here, and I am come
To tend thee here again.

JANICOLA.
Hath not one else
A right to that and thee?

GRISELDA.
Not now.

JANICOLA.
Why, girl?

GRISELDA.
My lord doth wed again.

JANICOLA.
Wedded, and wed!
Oh, Cross of Christ! art come to tell me this?
Is't not enough that he hath slain thy brats?
Give me my arblast! Oh, these old grey hairs!
I looked for this all the gay tinselled time;
But he shall answer it.

GRISELDA.
Dear father, patience!

JANICOLA.
For him!

GRISELDA.
(She sings.)

[She rises and stands watching Janicola, while the scene closes.