Four Plays of Gil Vicente Part 30

520 _Pe._ Nay, by the Lord, John, listen to me: That were t'expect without good ground A watch-dog to become a hound.

To the peasant far more honour doth Coa.r.s.e sacking than your flimsy cloth.

And to set his hand to till the soil And for the n.o.bleman by birth To have men on his ways to toil And let the rustic plough the earth.

For in Flanders and in Germany, 530 In Venice and the whole of France, They live well and reasonably And thus win deliverance From the woes that are here to hand.

For there the peasant on the land Doth the peasant's daughter wed, Nor further seeks to raise his head, And even so the skilled workmen too Those only of their own cla.s.s woo, By law is it so ordered.

540 And there the n.o.bility Serve kings and lords of high degree And do so with a lowly heart And simple, for their needs are small, And the sons of the peasants for their part Sow and reap the crops for all.

_P._ I'll go and announce you now.

_Pe._ Go and announce to your heart's fill: By the solemn G.o.d of Heaven I vow There are G.o.ds here more solemn still.

550 _P._ Sir, they've brought the clothes for you, And the carrier's at the door; Please to tell me, Sir, therefore, Who is to pay him what is due.

_N._ That's what I should like to know.

What business is it of yours? You go And look to what they've brought for me: Stow it away in safety And trouble about nothing more.

_P._ From over against Viseu is he 560 And properly belongs to me Since I it was answered the door.

_The carrier comes in and says:_

_Pe._ Sir, I've brought the goods, you see, For your wors.h.i.+p, they're not small, Here they are, pack-mules and all.

_N._ This is the strangest carrier's jargon That has ever come my way.

A thousand crowns for you, a bargain.

_Pe._ Nay, Sir, I would have you pay Simply what you owe to me, 570 For I must straightway be gone.

_N._ And what may the carriage be?

_Pe._ Sixteen hundred reis: you alone Would I charge so little, Sir.

_N._ Go speak with my head messenger For he's master of the horses And the mules' astrologer: Let him in a neat account Fairly reckon the amount, What is due, and how bought, how sold, 580 For this customary course is Ever followed in my household.

And if he's absent by some chance, And I _believe_ he is in France, Then return some other day And for the present go your way.

And your pay is in your hand.

_Pe._ I wish I had it in my feet.

O woe is me, O by my mother!

_N._ And have you a father and a brother?

590 _Pe._ Jest not but pay me as is meet, For I come from beyond the moor, Return I cannot to the Court.

_N._ Whenever you come to town my door Is open: lodge with my men you must.

_Pe._ Never again will I put trust In any n.o.ble of this sort, Not though St Matthew himself exhort.

_N._ To making friends your thoughts incline, Such friends as I especially, 600 For money is but vanity.

_Pe._ To the devil with such friends, say I, Who cozen me of what is mine.

_The carrier goes away and another n.o.bleman comes and the first n.o.bleman says:_

_1st N._ O how well you time your visit And your coming is most kind.

_2nd N._ Sir, it is not doubtful, is it?, That to serve you I'm inclined.

And I would not have it said Out of sight is out of mind.

_1st N._ A large sum of money I 610 To a goldsmith have just paid For some silver he inlaid.

To a carrier too, though why I should pay him scarce appears, Or how he won what he obtains.

_2nd N._ So ill-gotten are their gains That they rob your very ears.

_1st N._ Nay by the consecrated Host And the Holy G.o.d of Heaven Their onslaught is more fierce almost 620 Than that of wolves on a sheepfold even.

Why my very chaplain too For the little work he does for me By whatever saints there be Yea and by the Gospels true For his prayers I must be willing To give him for each ma.s.s a s.h.i.+lling.

There's not in Portugal a man More liable to pay than I: Nor one who is from love so free.

630 _2nd N._ Ah keep yourself from its fell ban, For lovers' joys and misery I think will be the end of me.

_1st N._ For all the ladies upon earth I would not give a halfpenny: Frankly I say that's what they're worth.

_2nd N._ A lover gentle, you must know, As I excels in delicacy, By my faith 'tis even so.

And who should a fair lady's eyes 640 Behold and not be lost in sighs?

And their pretty ways that lead You to toils in which indeed You will find no thoroughfare: Only infinite thorns and care.

_1st N._ Nevermore for lady I Shall be made to pine or sigh.

But if she have fine estate Thither then will my eyes turn And my heart begin to burn, 650 Let the profit be but great.

Dance she ne'er so gracefully, Skilfully with nimble feet, Be she sensible, discreet, And fairest of all fair to see: If of her father I have no profit, Much good, I say, may she have of it.

Do not you be so lovelorn, For 'tis scarcely to be borne, Love? nay madness, verily.

660 _2nd N._ By your way of it, I see, I the husbandman discover And in very sooth 'twill be A fine story this for me Of the farmer turning lover.

_1st N._ O mock me, Sir, if mock you can.

_2nd N._ Sir, the perfect gentleman Doth not link his lady fair With what her father may possess.

Nor descries he other scope, 670 Nor sighs for greater happiness Than 'In the tresses of thy hair,'

For indeed is all his hope Centred in that single song, And 'Sorrows to him alone belong,'

And 'If they say so, let it be,'

And 'Who, my love, hath vexed thee?'

I will sing and gloss them too, All these songs both old and new.

_1st N._ Sir, you are so fierce and brave 680 That I'm half afraid of you: By the holy books you have A wont to carry with high hand Even what you can't command.

_2nd N._ You mock me, yet 'tis but to prove That as you mock you understand.

For I must far above you stand, Since if you are exempt from love 'Tis at least for you to know That where I go you cannot go.

690 When you are a lover, then A discretion more profound And subtlety your mind may fill: The lover's world's beyond your ken, A different world that's to be found In regions further than Brazil.

O my world, the only true one, O the right I fight for oft, Sweet illusions that pursue one!

_1st N._ O the straw that's in my loft!

700 For a world of straw is mine That all wants for a year will meet, And I have a world of wheat And will sell to all beholders, And a head upon my shoulders.