Four Plays of Gil Vicente Part 37

_Serra._ What a thing for thee to say!

_Fool._ Who? G.o.d? why, now, I swear to G.o.d That He must always have His way.

For I was at Coimbra, I, 40 At the time this very queen In the palace bore a daughter: I will tell you all about it.

This same queen, and may G.o.d bless her, The queen herself was in the palace, 45 For, you know, on such occasions She is rarely seen outside it.

And the Lady of the Bedchamber, For she's from Castille, they say At this very time began to pray 50 A girl, not a boy, be given her.

(Even here, see, goes our way) And would you know the reason why?

The Empress had just before Given birth unto an Emperor, 55 And they will marry by and by.

'Twas different with my mother, she Cared not whether it might be A boy or eke a girl by chance But unto the Virgin Mary 60 Prayed she for deliverance.

_Enter Goncalo, a shepherd of the Serra, who comes from the Court, singing:_

Flying, the magpie has flown away, O that 'twere brought to me again: In yonder covert 'Twas mine at will, 65 With its dark-brown eyes And its golden bill.

O that 'twere brought to me again!

By Heaven in fine trim to-day Our Serra is and all aglow!

70 _S._ Come, Goncalo, come away, For I minded am to go, Leaving these my haunts straightway, Gathering you all together Forthwith and without delay 75 That we may all journey thither A visit to our queen to pay If G.o.d a.s.sist us on our way.

_G._ I am now come even thence And from all that I could tell 80 Our going thither will be well, Aye, 'twill be no vain pretence, For the child of royal line, The princess that has now had birth Seems, they say, a thing divine, 85 A star that ceases not to s.h.i.+ne Though it has appeared on earth.

_S._ I'll tell thee how it is, I ween: Her birth is in a hill-country, Of a king fairest to be seen 90 Of all that are upon the earth And of a most lovely queen.

And she is born in a city Which will bless her and blest has been And of great authority.

95 On lucky day too was she born, Of Mars, the G.o.d of victory, And the winds that very morn Brought rain needed instantly For the birth of gra.s.s and corn.

100 _Fool._ Sometimes G.o.d, it is a fact, Sometimes, I say, G.o.d doth act All upside down, as one might say.

For unless I'm much mistaken Mondego will be in flood 105 And all the wine from the casks be taken: Could a demon do less good?

For He so brings it about That the aldermen grow stout And like dry sticks girls wither away, 110 Purple the friars wax and red, Yellow and jaundiced are the lay, And l.u.s.ty they whose youth is fled While the young grow weak and grey And for nothing doth He care.

115 At Coimbra when for oats they pray Of mussels enough and e'en to spare And fish likewise He sends straightway.

_G._ Serra, if you would fain go With shepherds and with shepherdesses 120 First their loves of long ago Must mutual agreement show That as yet no ending blesses.

And for my part willingly Would I Madanela wed, 125 That design is in my head But I know not if she'll agree.

_Enter Felipa, a shepherdess of the Serra, singing:_

Two falcons to follow me have I, But one of them of love shall die.

Two falcons had I, and the twain 130 Are here with me, being of love's train, But one of them of love shall die.

(_Spoken:_)

_F._ Goncalo, hast thou seen my sheep, Tell me hast thou seen them now?

_G._ From the town I am just returned and trow 135 That I for thee thy flocks must keep.

_F._ Well, thou hast been married here: They only for thy coming stay.

_G._ What, married ere I can appear?

Then am I in a pretty way.

140 _F._ Nay thou must marry on thy return And must go and live with her Unless Madanela thou wouldst prefer.

_G._ From the game's chance aside I turn.

_F._ Wouldst thou the best of them all thus spurn?

145 _G._ Is it, is it Alvarenga?

_F._ No, but Catherine Meigengra.

_G._ In evil fire would I rather burn.

Of Meigengra is no question here: The greatest slattern, I a.s.sert, 150 Is she and if unsewn her skirt Not a st.i.tch will it get from her, And though she covered be with dirt Yet will she never comb her hair, And at the merest word will she 155 Be vanquished of laughter utterly.

She sweeps and lets the sweepings lie, She eats and will never wash the dishes, Her uncle beats her hourly, So laxly doth she flout his wishes.

160 Madanela's the apple of my eye.

And there is no more to be said But tell Meigengra presently To reckon on another head.

_F._ Thy father has given his hand, thus clinching 165 The matter beyond any flinching.

_G._ To give her my foot would I be willing As if she were a melon's rind, But as for me, my heart and mind With love of Madanela are thrilling.

170 _F._ Yet richer Meigengra thou'lt find, For Madanela has not a s.h.i.+lling.

_G._ A curse upon money, say I, Which only brings me fresh distress: A single hour of happiness 175 'S worth all the gold beneath the sky.

G.o.d give me but the girl I love Or deprive me of life's breath, And my marriage be with death If to her I faithless prove.

180 _F._ Well, I must go instantly After my flocks and see how they fare.

_G._ And I to my father will repair And find out how this thing may be.

_Enter Catherina Meigengra, singing:_

Lofty the mountain-height, 185 But stronger is love's might, Could he but hear!

_F._ Whither, Meigengra, sister, away?

_C._ 'Tis the heifer I go to seek, Hast thou seen it here, I pray?

190 _F._ I have not seen it all this week.

But Goncalo is just gone hence, Even from the Court came he And I gave him great offence When I spoke to him of thee, 195 As if thou wert a pestilence, Such disaffection hast thou won.

_C._ And by my life I'm glad of it For, sister, I have lost my wit For Ferdinand, my uncle's son.

200 If I do not marry him I will surely die of love.

But Goncalo can only move My thoughts, yes even in a dream, To distaste and weariness.

205 _F._ If for him thou dost not care He for thee cares even less.

_C._ Bad luck to him through all the land If to think of me he dare.

But if Heaven only planned 210 My marriage with Ferdinand Death to me that day welcome were, Joy's victim, not of this distress.

O Ferdinand, my uncle's son, For thee was all this love begun!

215 _F._ This your love, your Ferdinand, Secretly offered me his hand.