Four Plays of Gil Vicente Part 28

_P._ They were ladies, Sir.

_N._ How called?

_P._ My lord, no one was calling.

280 _N._ These rustic churls are too appalling.

And serve me right for keeping such.

Henceforth I really must contrive To have a page of better stuff.

_P._ Sir, I'll grow speedily enough To please you, yes and will do much Provided G.o.d leaves me alive: And the rest I'll quickly learn As others who good wages earn.

_N._ Well do so, and then I will see 290 How you may come to serve the King And even page of the Chamber be.

_P._ So I did well to leave my home.

Since even shepherds may become Attendants on the King, the King!

So thrives with corn the land, bereft Of labourers, whom their fathers send To Court their fortunes for to mend, And soon there'll be no peasants left, For all will on the King attend.

300 _N._ What mockery's this?

_P._ Nay, Sir, I know That some poor Christians even so From toil shall have deliverance.

_Re-enter the Chaplain._

_C._ Have you, my lord, by any chance Yet spoken to the King of me?

_N._ I've had no opportunity.

_C._ The remedy may be delayed Another three years, I'm afraid.

_N._ The King's so busy, now with France, Now with the Turk, and now the Pope, 310 And other matters of high scope, And with such careful secrecy That I can see but little hope.

I'm always there at the levee, But get no long talk with the King In which to settle anything.

Meanwhile you may still serve with me Until I find an opening.

_C._ Sir, I would have the matter brought To a conclusion.

_N._ To conclusion?

320 Yes, and perhaps better than you thought.

_C._ Conclusion here I see in nought, In everything only confusion.

Sir, a cope and a chasuble too Have I in your service quite worn out: Pay me the wages that are due.

_N._ Could you now but from East to West Discover us the lat.i.tude So, since your voice's not of the best, You might win the King's grat.i.tude.

330 _C._ Sir, I perceive you do but jest: Would you pay me with a plat.i.tude?

(_He goes out._)

_P._ The King should take him, since he's cheap At any price, is such a fighter: He's from our village, and the sheep Was in his boyhood wont to keep, And now he's searching for a mitre.

But there's no chaplain of them all Could ever bring him to a fall, And Labaredas is his name.

340 _N._ But here Coto's yclept the same, The n.o.blest in the land withal.

Now he demands what's his by right As though 'twere not as easy quite For me all Turkey's lands to burn, Since any service to requite Gives one a melancholy turn.

_Pero Vaz, a carrier, comes with a parcel of clothes for the n.o.bleman and enters with jingling of bells, singing:_

The snow is on the hills, the hills so cold and high, I saw a maiden of the hills, graceful and fair, pa.s.s by.

(_Speaking:_)

Go on there, _arre_, my fine mule, 350 You cost me in the market-place Seven thousand and nine hundred reis And a kick in the eye for the tax-gatherer fool.

Get on, my roan. And add thereto The portion of five hundred too That Nuno Ribeiro had to pay: All this, my mule, was paid for you.

Get on, _arre_, upon your way, For the afternoons now are the best of the day, Get on, you brute, get on, I say, 360 Look you the crupper's all awry And see, right round is pulled the girth: Candosa wines bring little mirth To any such poor fool as I.

(_He sings:_)

The snow is on the hills, the hills so cold and high, I saw a maiden of the hills, graceful and fair, pa.s.s by.

(_He speaks:_)

Curse you, go on, _arre_, I say, And now you're going all askew As one who would at skittles play: Come up, my mule, _arre_, _arre_.

370 But if I once begin with you I'll make you groan upon your way.

By my Theresa, you'd lose your load, You would, would you, upon the road?

But I'll not give you any rest Nor leave flies leisure to molest.

(_He sings:_)

I saw a maiden of the hills, graceful and fair, pa.s.s by, And towards her then went I with great courtesy.

(_He speaks:_)

Yes, and I would have you sigh For the Aveiro bakeress, 380 For the inn you'll come to by and by And then we'll off with the packsaddle And the innkeeper we'll straddle If he have not, to slake our thirstiness, Good wine at threepence and kid at less, And for hard bread soft b.u.t.termilk, A fair wench to serve and sheets of silk, If the floor's strewn with rushes the night be long, If it hails, be the roof both new and strong, When the lamp burns dim welcome fiddler's strain.

390 Hold up, there! At your tricks again?

Bandy-legged brute, shall I prevail, If I rain down barnacles on your tail, To make you look where you are going.

To the Devil with you! He'll be knowing How to handle your like without fail.

'And towards her then went I with great courtesy: Will you, said I, lady, of my company?'

_Vasco Afonso, another carrier, comes along and they meet on the road, and Pero Vaz says:_

_P._ Ho, Vasco Afonso, where goest thou?

_V._ Look you, I go along the road.

400 _P._ Without thy bells nor any load?

_V._ They were stolen from me even now By a cursed robber at the inn.

_P._ We had a drink there as we came.

_V._ Whose, Pero Vaz, is all this stuff?