Lord Edward Blakewell -- Shakespearean version

At which hour mine own nurse hath called me down to the drawing cubiculo, i bethought t wast timeth f'r mine own latin studyeth.  I didn’t realizeth what await'd me wouldst changeth mine own life f'rev'r. 

 

i am mary elizabeth hale.  I liveth in england, in the elizabethan age and tis 1573.  I am 15 years fusty.

 

as i walketh into the drawing cubiculo, instead of seeing mine own latin books, i seeth mine own parents, earl hale and his jointress, elizabeth, who is't i am nam'd aft'r.  At which hour i wast b'rn, th're wast most wondrous disappointment because i wast not a knave.  Girls doth not bringeth honour to the family.  Eke, as mine own fath'r’s greatest goal f'r me is to findeth a valorous matcheth, i am m're expensive because as the wench i has't to payeth the feather-bed dowry. 

 mine own fath'r speaks in his deep voice.

 “mary, mine own daught'r, prithee beest did seat. ”

as i sitteth down, i scan mine own parent’s faces to seeth if 't be true i am in ado.  Tis not oft yond i receiveth hath called down to talketh with those folk. 

 “mary, thou art 15.  Thou art anon a quite quaint young mistress, and many of thy age art did marry anon.  I has't hath found a rich, did educate and well-mann'r'd young sir who is't is keen to beest thy husband.  What sayeth thee, mary mine own lief?”

i stareth at that gent, did shock.  T hadst nev'r did cross mine own mind yond this might beest the reasoneth yond i hadst been hath called down.  I doth not answ'r f'r a few moments, trying to comprehend what mine own fath'r hast just did request of me. 

 “mary?” mine own moth'r asks softly.  “what sayeth thee?’

mine own fusty cousin from at which hour i wast 3 years fusty is anon did marry and a moth'r.  The lady is the same age as me.  I kneweth in the backeth of mine own mind yond i wouldst anon beest did wed, though i didst not bethink so anon. 

 “fath'r, i am but 15.  Is yond not young f'r me to beest did marry?”

i knoweth as i sayeth t what his answ'r shall beest.

 “mary elizabeth, thee knoweth many girls thy age who is't art already moth'rs.  Thee shouldst beest did marry anon bef're thee receiveth fusty'r and no-one shall wanteth thee. ”

“yes fath'r. ” i sayeth.  I won’t has't a choice concluded, be it, as i am completely and absolutely und'r his ruleth.  “what is his nameth?”

“l'rd edward blakewell. ” mine own fath'r answ'rs proudly.  “not many girls has't the privilege of marrying a l'rd. ”

i f'rce a smileth, receiveth up, and colours myself. 

 

 

i sinketh onto mine own sleep chamber, closeth mine own eyes and alloweth out a longeth, deep sigheth.  Drops of sorrow don’t cometh, but mine own heart is heavy.  I am afeard, and i don’t wanteth to marryeth. 

 l'rd edward.  That gent sounds despicable, i bethink to myself. 

 “my mistress?”

it’s mine own nurse coming in.

 “the l'rd toldeth me thou art to beest did marry. ”

i grunt in confirmation. 

 “well, well! what’s this? didst thy mann'rs leaveth with thy childhood?”

i prop myself up on mine own elbows. 

 “he sounds absolutely despicable. ” i sayeth to h'r, and gaze h'r did shock visage with a s'rt of satisfaction. 

 “but mine own mistress! thee has't the utmost privilege of marrying l'rd blakewell.  Thy fath'r hast chosen well. ”

i groaneth, and collapse onto the sleep chamber again.

 mine own nurse maketh a sympathetic hurtling, and cometh ov'r to stroketh mine own longeth hair. 

 “when wednesday cometh, thy big day, thee shall beest eft f'r thy new life; feather-bed. ” the lady whisp'rs. 

 

 

“ahh!” i groaneth.  “must t beest so tight, nurse?”

t is wednesday, the day of mine own wedding.  I has't many ladies bustling 'round me, and trying to receiveth me eft.  I has't three high-lone tightening mine own c'rset.  Well, tightening is an und'rstatement.  Those gents seemeth intent on crushing me.  At which hour mine own c'rset is done, tis all i can doth not to topple ov'r, and faint.  Then those gents sitteth me down on a stool, while those gents base'r a heavy r'd satin dresseth ov'r me, attacketh mine own headeth with pins, and ad'rn me in expensive jewelry.  At which hour i feeleth so heavy i might sinketh into the flo'r, those gents stepeth backeth and admireth their w'rk.  Mine own nurse sighs with happiness and clasps h'r hands in mineth. 

 “you art a quite quaint bride. ” the lady sniffs, taking out h'r handk'rchief, and mopping h'r eyes.

 mine own nurse hast hath brought me up and car'd f'r me since i wast just a baby.  The lady is devoted, and is liketh a second moth'r to me. 

 i smileth and beginneth to lift out mine own arms to embrace h'r, at which hour all the ladies caterwauling out in unison. 

 “my mistress, restrain yourself!” one mistress tuts.  “you shall rip the seams. ”

i sigheth, disgruntled, wond'ring if 't be true this is what mine own new life shall beest liketh. 

 

music swells as i walketh but soft to the front of the church, a thick veil shrouding mine own visage.  I wond'r what mine own fiancé looks liketh, i bethink.  I has't not hath met l'rd edward blakewell yet, as t is custom f'r the bride and groom not to seeth each oth'r till the wedding day.  I reacheth the front of the church, and mine own veil is did lift off mine own visage.  I stareth into the eyes of l'rd edward, who is't in a few minutes shall beest mine own husband.  That gent hast dark blue eyes, and longeth black hair, and a strange smileth i tryeth to w'rk out.  But th're is nay timeth.  The augurer is calling us to kneeleth, and i somehow manageth to receiveth down on mine own hams, with mine own dresseth flowing 'round me.  Kneeling beside the altar, the augurer starts speaking in latin, and giving us a blessing.  At which hour the augurer asks that gent too, edward enthusiastically sayeth ‘i doth. ’ then the augurer turns to me, starts speaking in sloweth latin, and then, gulping down mine own n'rves, i sayeth ‘i doth. ’

i am did lift to mine own feet by mine own husband, trying to beest brave as i visage this new life as mistress mary blakewell