Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio
Page 397
Get off your trinkets: you shall want naught.
Pal. Sirrah —
Arc. I’ll hear no more. Exit
Pal. If he keep touch, he dies for’t.
Exit
Act III. Scene IV.
ENTER THE JAILER’S Daughter
Jai. Dau. I am very cold, and all the stars are out too,
The little stars and all, that look like aglets —
The sun has seen my folly. Palamon!
Alas, no, he’s in heaven. Where am I now?
Yonder’s the sea and there’s a ship — how’t tumbles! 5
And there’s a rock lies watching under water —
Now, now, it beats upon it — now, now, now,
There’s a leak sprung, a sound one — how they cry!
Open her before the wind — you’ll lose all else.
Up with a course or two and tack about, boys. 10
Good night, good night, you’re gone. I am very hungry.
Would I could find a fine frog — he would tell me
News from all parts o’th’ world, then would I make
A carrack of a cockle-shell, and sail
By east and north-east to the King of Pygmies, 15
For he tells fortunes rarely. Now my father,
Twenty to one, is trussed up in a trice
Tomorrow morning. I’ll say never a word.
(She sings)
For I’ll cut my green coat, a foot above my knee,
And I’ll clip my yellow locks, an inch below mine eye,
Hey nonny, nonny, nonny, 21
He s’buy me a white cut, forth for to ride,
And I’ll go seek him, through the world that is so wide,
Hey nonny, nonny, nonny.
O for a prick now, like a nightingale, 25
To put my breast against. I shall sleep like a top else.
Exit
Act III. Scene V.
ENTER GERALD, THE schoolmaster, five Countrymen, one of whom is dressed as a Babion, five Wenches, and Timothy, a taborer. All are attired as morris dancers
Sch. Fie, fie,
What tediosity and disinsanity
Is here among ye! Have my rudiments
Been laboured so long with ye, milked unto ye,
And, by a figure, even the very plum-broth 5
And marrow of my understanding laid upon ye?
And do you still cry ‘where?’ and ‘how?’ and ‘wherefore?’
You most coarse frieze capacities, ye jean judgements,
Have I said, ‘thus let be’, and ‘there let be’,
And ‘then let be’, and no man understand me? 10
Proh deum, medius fidius — ye are all dunces.
Forwhy, here stand I. Here the Duke comes. There are you,
Close in the thicket. The Duke appears. I meet him,
And unto him I utter learnèd things
And many figures. He hears, and nods, and hums, 15
And then cries, ‘Rare!’, and I go forward. At length
I fling my cap up — mark there — then do you,
As once did Meleager and the boar,
Break comely out before him, like true lovers,
Cast yourselves in a body decently, 20
And sweetly, by a figure, trace and turn, boys.
First Cou.
And sweetly we will do it, master Gerald.
Second Cou.
Draw up the company. Where’s the taborer?
Third Cou.
Why, Timothy!
Taborer Here, my mad boys, have at ye!
Sch. But I say, where’s these women?
Fourth Cou. Here’s Friz and Madeline.
Second Cou.
And little Luce with the white legs, and bouncing Barbara. 26
First Cou.
And freckled Nell, that never failed her master.
Sch. Where be your ribbons, maids? Swim with your bodies
And carry it sweetly and deliverly,
And now and then a favour and a frisk. 30
Nell
Let us alone, sir.
Sch. Where’s the rest o’th’ music?
Third Cou.
Dispersed as you commanded.
Sch. Couple, then,
And see what’s wanting. Where’s the babion?
(To the Babion) My friend, carry your tail without offence
Or scandal to the ladies; and be sure 35
You tumble with audacity and manhood,
And when you bark, do it with judgement.
Babion Yes, sir.
Sch. Quousque tandem? Here is a woman wanting!
Fourth Cou.
We may go whistle — all the fat’s i’th’ fire.
Sch. We have, 40
As learnèd authors utter, washed a tile;
We have been fatuus, and laboured vainly.
Second Cou.
This is that scornful piece, that scurvy hilding
That gave her promise faithfully she would be here —
Cicely, the seamstress’ daughter. 45
The next gloves that I give her shall be dogskin.
Nay, an she fail me once — you can tell, Areas,
She swore by wine and bread she would not break.
Sch. An eel and woman,
A learnèd poet says, unless by th’ tail 50
And with thy teeth thou hold, will either fail —
In manners this was false position.
First Cou.
A fire-ill take her! Does she flinch now?
Third Cou. What
Shall we determine, sir?
Sch. Nothing;
Our business is become a nullity, 55
Yea, and a woeful and a piteous nullity.
Fourth Cou.
Now, when the credit of our town lay on it,
Now to be frampold, now to piss o’th’ nettle!
Go thy ways — I’ll remember thee, I’ll fit thee!
Enter the Jailer’s Daughter
Jai. Dau. (sings)
The George Alow came from the south, 60
From the coast of Barbary-a;
And there he met with brave gallants of war,
By one, by two, by three-a.
‘Well hailed, well hailed, you jolly gallants,
And whither now are you bound-a? 65
O let me have your company
Till I come to the sound-a.’
There was three fools fell out about an owlet —
The one he said it was an owl,
The other he said nay, 70
The third he said it was a hawk,
And her bells were cut away.
Third Cou.
There’s a dainty madwoman, master,
Comes i’th’ nick, as mad as a March hare.
If we can get her dance, we are made again. 75
I warrant her, she’ll do the rarest gambols.
First Cou.
A madwoman? We are made, boys.
Sch. (to the Jailer’s Daughter)
And are you mad, good woman?
Jai. Dau. I would be sorry else.
Give me your hand.
Sch. Why?
Jai. Dau. I can tell your fortune.
[She examines his hand]
You are a fool. Tell ten — I have posed him. Buzz! 80
Friend, you must eat no white bread — if you do,
Your teeth will bleed extremely. Shall we dance, ho?
I know you — you’re a tinker. Sirrah tinker,
Stop no more holes but what you should.
Sch. Dii boni —
A tinker, damsel?
Jai. Dau. Or a conjurer — 85
Raise me a devil now and let Ijim play
Qui passa o’th’ bells and bones.
Sch. Go, take her,
And fluently persuade her to a peace.
Et opus exegi, quod nec Iovis ira, nec ignis —
Strike up, and lead her in.
Second Cou.Come, lass, let’s trip it. 9
0
Jai. Dau. I’ll lead.
Third Cou. Do, do.
Sch. Persuasively and cunningly —
Wind horns within away, boys,
I hear the horns. Give me some meditation,
And mark your cue.Exeunt all but Gerald the Schoolmaster
Pallas inspire me. 95
Enter Theseus, Pirithous, Hippolyta, Emilia, Arcite, and train
The. This way the stag took.
Sch. Stay and edify.
The. What have we here?
Pir. Some country sport, upon my life, sir.
The. (to the Schoolmaster)
Well, sir, go forward — we will edify. 100
Ladies, sit down — we’ll stay it.
They sit.
Thou doughty Duke, all hail! All hail, sweet ladies.
The. This is a cold beginning.
Sch. If you but favour, our country pastime made is.
We are a few of those collected here, 105
That ruder tongues distinguish ‘villager’;
And to say verity, and not to fable,
We are a merry rout, or else a rabble,
Or company, or, by a figure, chorus,
That fore thy dignity will dance a morris. 110
And I, that am the rectifier of all,
By title pedagogus, that let fall
The birch upon the breeches of the small ones,
And humble with a ferula the tall ones,
Do here present this machine, or this frame; 115
And dainty Duke, whose doughty dismal fame
From Dis to Daedalus, from post to pillar,
Is blown abroad, help me, thy poor well-willer,
And with thy twinkling eyes, look right and straight
Upon this mighty ‘Moor’ — of mickle weight — 120
‘Ice’ now comes in, which, being glued together,
Makes ‘morris’, and the cause that we came hither.
The body of our sport, of no small study,
I first appear, though rude, and raw, and muddy,
To speak, before thy noble grace, this tenor 125
At whose great feet I offer up my penner.
The next, the Lord of May and Lady bright;
The Chambermaid and Servingman, by night
That seek out silent hanging; then mine Host
And his fat Spouse, that welcomes, to their cost, 130
The gallèd traveller, and with a beck’ning
Informs the tapster to inflame the reck’ning;
Then the beest-eating Clown; and next, the Fool;
The babion with long tail and eke long tool,
Cum multis aliis that make a dance — 135
Say ‘ay’, and all shall presently advance.
The. Ay, ay, by any means, dear dominie.
Pir. Produce.
Sch. (knocks for the dance)
Intrate filii, come forth and foot it.
[Music. The Schoolmaster leads in: May Lord, May Lady. Servingman, Chambermaid. A Country Clown, or Shepherd, Country Wench. An Host, Hostess. A He-babion, She-babion. A He-fool, The Jailer’s Daughter as She-fool. All these persons apparelled to the life, the men issuing out of one door and the wenches from the other. They dance a morris]
Ladies, if we have been merry,
And have pleased ye with a derry, 140
And a derry, and a down,
Say the schoolmaster’s no clown.
Duke, if we have pleased thee too,
And have done as good boys should do,
Give us but a tree or twain 145
For a maypole, and again,
Ere another year run out,
We’ll make thee laugh, and all this rout.
The. Take twenty, dominie. (To Hippolyta) How does my sweetheart?
Hipp.
Never so pleased, sir.
Emi. ’Twas an excellent dance, 150
And for a preface, I never heard a better.
The. Schoolmaster, I thank you. One see’ em all rewarded.
Pir. And here’s something to paint your pole withal.
He gives them money
The. Now to our sports again.
Sch. May the stag thou hunt’st stand long, 155
And thy dogs be swift and strong;
May they kill him without lets,
And the ladies eat his dowsets.
Exeunt Theseus and train. Wind horns within
Come, we are all made. Dii deaeque omnes,
Ye have danced rarely, wenches. Exeunt
Act III. Scene VI.
ENTER PALAMON FROM the bush
Pal. About this hour my cousin gave his faith
To visit me again, and with him bring
Two swords and two good armours; if he fail,
He’s neither man nor soldier. When he left me,
I did not think a week could have restored 5
My lost strength to me, I was grown so low
And crest-fall’n with my wants. I thank thee, Arcite,
Thou art yet a fair foe, and I feel myself,
With this refreshing, able once again
To out-dure danger. To delay it longer 10
Would make the world think, when it comes to hearing,
That I lay fatting, like a swine, to fight,
And not a soldier. Therefore this blest morning
Shall be the last; and that sword he refuses,
If it but hold, I kill him with; ’tis justice. 15
So, love and fortune for me!
Enter Arcite with two armours and two swords
O, good morrow.
Arc. Good morrow, noble kinsman.
Pal. I have put you
To too much pains, sir.
Arc. That too much, fair cousin,
Is but a debt to honour, and my duty.
Pal. Would you were so in all, sir — I could wish ye 20
As kind a kinsman, as you force me find
A beneficial foe, that my embraces
Might thank ye, not my blows.
Arc. I shall think either,
Well done, a noble recompense.
Pal. Then I shall quit you.
Arc. Defy me in these fair terms, and you show 25
More than a mistress to me — no more anger,
As you love anything that’s honourable.
We were not bred to talk, man. When we are armed
And both upon our guards, then let our fury,
Like meeting of two tides, fly strongly from us; 30
And then to whom the birthright of this beauty
Truly pertains — without upbraidings, scorns,
Despisings of our persons, and such poutings
Fitter for girls and schoolboys — will be seen,
And quickly, yours or mine. Will’t please you arm, sir? 35
Or, if you feel yourself not fitting yet,
And furnished with your old strength, I’ll stay, cousin,
And every day discourse you into health,
As I am spared. Your person I am friends with,
And I could wish I had not said I loved her, 40
Though I had died; but loving such a lady,
And justifying my love, I must not fly from’t.
Pal. Arcite, thou art so brave an enemy
That no man but thy cousin’s fit to kill thee.
I am well and lusty — choose your arms.
Arc. Choose you, sir.
Pal. Wilt thou exceed in all, or dost thou do it 46
To make me spare thee?
Arc. If you think so, cousin,
You are deceived, for as I am a soldier,
I will not spare you.
Pal. That’s well said.
Arc. You’ll find it.
Pal. Then as I am an honest man, and love 50
With all the justice of affection,
I’ll pay thee soundly.
He chooses one armour
This I’ll take.
Arc. (indicating the remaining armour)<
br />
That’s mine, then.
I’ll arm you first.
Pal. Do.
Arcite arms Palamon
Pray thee tell me, cousin,
Where gott’st thou this good armour?
Arc. ’Tis the Duke’s,
And to say true, I stole it. Do I pinch you?
Pal. No. 55
Arc. Is’t not too heavy?
Pal. I have worn a lighter —
But I shall make it serve.
Arc. I’ll buckle’t close.
Pal. By any means.
Arc. You care not for a grand guard?
Pal. No, no, we’ll use no horses. I perceive
You would fain be at that fight.
Arc. I am indifferent. 60
Pal. Faith, so am I. Good cousin, thrust the buckle
Through far enough.
Arc. I warrant you.
Pal. My casque now.
Arc. Will you fight bare-armed?
Pal. We shall be the nimbler.
Arc. But use your gauntlets, though — those are o’th’ least.
Prithee take mine, good cousin.
Pal. Thank you, Arcite. 65
How do I look? Am I fall’n much away?
Arc. Faith, very little — love has used you kindly.
Pal. I’ll warrant thee, I’ll strike home.
Arc. Do, and spare not —
I’ll give you cause, sweet cousin.
Pal. Now to you, sir.
Palamon arms Arcite
Methinks this armour’s very like that, Arcite, 70
Thou wor’st that day the three kings fell, but lighter.
Arc. That was a very good one, and that day,
I well remember, you outdid me, cousin.
I never saw such valour. When you charged
Upon the left wing of the enemy, 75
I spurred hard to come up, and under me
I had a right good horse.
Pal. You had indeed —
A bright bay, I remember.
Arc. Yes. But all
Was vainly laboured in me — you outwent me,
Nor could my wishes reach you. Yet a little 80
I did by imitation.
Pal. More by virtue —
You are modest, cousin.
Arc. When I saw you charge first,
Methought I heard a dreadful clap of thunder
Break from the troop.
Pal. But still before that flew
The lightning of your valour. Stay a little, 85
Is not this piece too strait?
Arc. No, no, ’tis well.
Pal. I would have nothing hurt thee but my sword —
A bruise would be dishonour.
Arc. Now I am perfect.
Pal. Stand off, then.
Arc. Take my sword; I hold it better.
Pal. I thank ye. No, keep it — your life lies on it. 90
Here’s one — if it but hold, I ask no more