JANICOLA

Fetch thine own Babulo lets ply our business. Go fool, cease this vain talk and fallen to work. Come Griselda, work sweet girl, here the warm Sun will shine on us, And when his fires begin, Wée'll cool our sweating brows in yonder shade. Indeed my child, men's eyes do now adais, Quickly take fire at the least spark of beauty, And if those flames be quenched by chased disdain, Then their envenomed tongues (alack) do strike, To wound her fame whose beauty they did Like. Thou needest not, in a painted coat goes sin, And loves those that love pride; none looks on thee, Then keep me company: how much unlike Are thy desires to many of thy sex? How many wantons in Salivia, Frown Like the sullen night, when their fair faces Are hid within doors: but God once abroad, Like the proud Sun they spread their staring beams, They shine out to be seen, their lose eyes tell, That in their bosoms wantonness do dwell: Thou canst not do so Griselda, for thy Sun, Is but a Star, thy Star, a spark of fire, Which hath no power t'inflame doting desire: Thy silks are third-bare russets: all thy portion Is but and honest name: that gone thou art dead, Though dead thou livest, that being unblemished. Pray God thou mayest: yet child my jealous soul Trembles through fears, so often as mine eyes Sees our Duke court Thee: and when to thine ears He tunes sweet lovesongs: o beware my Griselda He can prepare his way with gifts of gold, Upon his breath, winged Promotion flies O my deer Girl trust not his sorceries, Did he not seek the shipwreck of thy fame? Why should he send his tailors to take measure Of Grissils body: but as one should say, If thou wilt be the Marquess concubine, Thou shalt wear rich attires: but they that think, With costly garments, sins black face to hide, Wear naked bravery and ragged pride. The music of those words sweet ̄ mine ears Come girl lets faster work: time apace wears. Laureo my Son? o heaven let thy rich hand Pour plenteous showers of blessing on his head. Often I have wished to see you here, Why Laureo dost thou grieve to see thy father, Or dost thou scorn me for my poverty. Why son whats the matter? Peace fool, welcome my son, though I am poor My love shall not be so: go daughter Griselda, Fetch water from the spring to seeth our fish, Which yesterday I caught: the cheer is mean, But be content, when I have sold these Baskets, The money shall be spent to bid thee welcome: Griselda make hast, run and kindle fire. Exit Griselda. Nay grieve not Son, better have felt worse woe Come fit by me while I work to get bred, And Griselda spin us yearn to cloth our backs. Thou shalt read doctrine to us for the soul, Then what shall we there want, nothing my son For when we cease from work even in that while, My song shall charm griefs ears and care beguile. All happiness attend my gracious Lord. A poor despised scholar and my Son. The will of Princes subjects must not search, Let it suffice, your grace is welcome hither. I am unworthy of so great a good. Laureo My gracious Lord. What to my Lord seems best to me seems so Fallen on thy knees thou fool: see heeres our duke Banished from Count, o what have we miss done? Peace Babulo, we are banished from the Court. O my dear Griselda. Alas my Lord, you knew her state before. Our parting shall be short, daughter farewell. Remember thou didst live when thou Wertenberg poor, And now thou dost but live, come son no more. Very well my son, This labour is a comfort to my age, The Marquess hath to me been merciful, In sending me from Courtly delicates, To taste the quiet of this country life. Peace my son, I thought by learning thou hadst been made wise, But I perceive it puffeth up thy soul, Thou takest a pleasure to be counted joust, And kick against the faults of mighty men: O 'tis in vain, the earth may even as well Challenge the potter to be partial, For forming it to sundry offices: Alas the error of ambitious fools, How frail are all their thoughts, how faint, how weak? Those that do strive to justle with the great, Are certain to be bruised, or soon to break. Come, come mell with our Osiers, here let's rest, This is old homely home, & that's still best. Griselda is welcome home to poverty, What can I do, Though her he punish, he might pity you. Well said patience, Thy virtues arm mine age with confidence, Come son, bondmen must serve, shall we away? It is the Marquess pleasure I must drudge, Load me I pray thee, I am born to bear. Grief that I am ungracious in your eye, Who can be glad when he endureth wrong? Do, load me, for to bear is my desire. Let not thy tongue go so: fit down to work And that our labour may not seem to long, Weel cunningly beguile it with a song. Good Grissil bear all wrongs w to patience. Weeps A purse of gold Furio is fallen from thee. Daughter, here's nothing in this purse but gold. This purse that fellow did let fallen, run run, Carry it him again, run Babulo, Away with it, 'tis laid to do us wrong. What ails my Griselda ? comfort my child. I am glad thou takest this wound so patiently. Let him be whom he will, he seemed our friend, Griselda lay up this gold 'tis Furio's sure, Or it may be thy Lord did give it him, To let it fallen for thee, but keep it safe, If he disdain to love thee as a wife, His gold shall not buy food to nourish thee, Griselda come in, time swiftly runs away, The greatest sorrow hath and ending day. Exeunt. Fortune can do no more then she hath done, They that are marked to woe, to woe must run. Exit Futio & Janicola. I say but thus, Great men are Gods, and they have power over us, Are these my nephews that were murdered? O pardon me, Though dumb betwixt my grief and joy I be. I could have sung when I was free from care. Friend whats thy name?