Three Major Plays (8 page)

With him. How many girls in our village
Have put their trust in the
COMMANDER
,
And seen their reputation shot
To pieces?

PASCUALA
. I'll be amazed if you
Escape his clutches.

LAURENCIA . You shouldn't believe

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Everything you see. He's chased me for
A month,
PASCUALA
, and still got nowhere.

FLORES
, his pimp, and that scoundrel, Ortuño,
They showed me a bodice, a necklace, and

A bonnet, and said so many things

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About their master, Fernando,
They frightened me really, but they won't
Persuade me.

PASCUALA
. So where did this take place?

LAURENCIA
. There by the stream.* Six days ago.

PASCUALA . Well, I fancy they'll change your mind,

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LAURENCIA.

LAURENCIA
. What, me?

PASCUALA
. I don't mean the priest,
Now do I?

LAURENCIA
. I'm a young bird, true, but far
Too tough for his holiness. Believe me,

PASCUALA
, for breakfast I'd much

Rather have a nice slice of bacon,

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With a piece of bread from a loaf
I've baked myself, and pinch a glass
Of wine from my mother's jar. At noon
I'd rather see beef and cabbage

Dancing to a merry, bubbling tune,*

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And when I'm tired from travelling,
A slice of bacon wedded to
An aubergine. Then later on,
While supper's cooking, a bunch of grapes

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(God protect the vines from hailstones!),

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And, when it's ready, a tasty fry
Of chopped-up meat with oil and peppers.
And so at last happily to bed,
To say my prayers, including 'lead

Me not into temptation!' I much

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Prefer all this to the tricks and lies
Of rogues with all their talk and promises
Of love. Their only aim's to leave
Us in the lurch. They take us to bed

For their pleasure; when morning comes,

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It's 'Goodbye, treasure!'

PASQUALA
. Quite right, LAURENCIA.
When they stop loving, men are more
Ungrateful than the sparrows. In winter,
When the fields are frozen, they come down

From the rooftops -- 'chirp, chirp' -- and eat

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The crumbs from your kitchen table.
But once the cold of winter's passed,
And they see the fields grow green at last,
It's not 'chirp, chirp' any longer; more

'Twerp, twerp',* from the safety of the rooftops,

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All the farmer's kindness quite forgotten.
Such are men! Whenever they need us, we
Are their lives, their entire being;
Because of us their life has meaning.

But once their fire starts to cool,

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They act just like those sparrows.* Never again
Will you hear 'sweetheart'! Suddenly,
You become just a tart!

LAURENCIA
. Never trust
A man!

PASCUALA
. Oh, I agree, LAURENCIA!

Enter
MENGO, BARRILDO, and FRONDOSO.

FRONDOSO . Your argument's ridiculous,

200

BARRILDO.

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BARRILDO
. At least there's someone here
Who'll settle it.

MENGO
. Before you ask,
Let's come to an agreement. If they
Decide I'm right you both pay up
The prize for winning.

BARRILDO . Fair enough.

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But if you lose, you'll give us something.

MENGO
. You can have this fiddle.* It's worth
A granary, and to me much more
Than that.

BARRILDO
. Agreed then.

FRONDOSO
. Let's do it!

God be with you, lovely ladies!

210

LAURENCIA
. Since when, Frondoso, do you call us ladies?

FRONDOSO
. We are followers of fashion.
Nowadays your schoolboy's called a graduate,
Your blind as a bat, myopic;

Your cross-eyed man has just a squint,

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And your totally lame's arthritic.
The couldn't-care-less are upright chaps,
The stupid are called clever;
A pig of a man's described as bold,

And a big mouth an entertainer.

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A beady eye is said to be sharp,
Argumentative people try hard;
A silly ass is amusing,
And a chatterbox is a card.

A common upstart, oh, he's brave,

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A coward lacks initiative;
Your hothead, well, he's really dashing,
And your dolt is someone well worth knowing.
If you're off your head, you're free as air,

If down in the dumps, just full of care;

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If you're bald, you have authority,

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If you're stupid, oh, so very witty.
Big feet are the sign of a solid man,
The pox is only a runny nose,

Arrogance is but reserve,

235

And a hunchback wears bad-fitting clothes.
This is why, you see, I call you ladies.
I shan't say more or I might go on
Forever.

LAURENCIA
. That's city talk* when they want

To be polite. But take my word

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For it, they use a different style
When they insult you.

FRONDOSO
. How exactly?

LAURENCIA
. Everything's just the opposite.
They call a serious man a bore,

You speak your mind and you are rash;

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A thoughtful person's melancholic,
You criticize, and you are brash.
You give advice, it's pure cheek,
Be generous, you stick your nose in;

If you are just, you're seen as cruel,

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Show mercy and you're just a weakling.
Be constant and they call you boring,
Polite and you're a flatterer;
Be kind and you're a hypocrite,

A Christian's someone seeking favour.

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If you've got talent, that's just lucky,
You tell the truth, that's impudence;
Put up with things and you're a coward,
When things go wrong, it's your come-uppance.

A modest woman is a fool,

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Pretty but chaste, she's into seduction;
If she's virtuous, she's. . . no, no,
That's it, end of demonstration!

MENGO
. I swear you are a little devil.

BARRILDO . In the name of God, that wasn't bad!

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MENGO
. You must have been christened with something
Much saltier than water.*

LAURENCIA
. Anyway,
What were you arguing about?

FRONDOSO
. I'll tell you.

LAURENCIA
. Right.

FRONDOSO
. Pay attention.

LAURENCIA . You have it, for nothing. I'm all ears.

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FRONDOSO
. I put my faith in your judgement.

LAURENCIA
. So what's the argument?

FRONDOSO
. It's me
And
BARRILDO
against
MENGO
.

LAURENCIA
. About what?

BARRILDO
. Something that, though obviously true, he
Denies.

MENGO . Only because I know I'm right.

275

LAURENCIA
. So what's he say?

BARRILDO
. That love does not
Exist.

LAURENCIA
. That's very sweeping.

BARRILDO
. As well
As stupid. If love did not exist,
Neither would this world of ours.

MENGO . I'm no philosopher and, more's

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The pity, I can't read. But if
The elements are always in
A state of war, and our bodies -- blood,
Phlegm, melancholy, choler* -- draw

Their sustenance from them -- where

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Is love?

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BARRILDO
. In this world and the next,
My friend, there's perfect harmony.*
And harmony is love, since love's
Harmonious.

MENGO
. Oh, I don't deny

That love is natural and has

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Great power. It governs everything,
And everything we see it keeps
In balance. Nor have I ever said
That love does not exist in every man,

According to his humour, and that's

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What helps him to survive. If someone aims
A punch at me, my hand protects
My face. If danger comes, my feet
Will help me to escape it; if something

Approaches my eyes, my lids close sharpish.

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That's natural love.

PASCUALA
. So what's the point
You want to make?

MENGO
. That we love ourselves
And no one else.

PASCUALA
. Excuse me,
MENGO
,
But that's plain daft. The proof lies in

The fact that men and women love

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Each other passionately, as does
An animal its mate.

MENGO
. That's still
Self-love, not love. Tell me what love is.

LAURENCIA
. A desire for beauty.

MENGO
. And why
Does love desire it?

LAURENCIA . To enjoy it.

310

MENGO
. Right. And doesn't it want that pleasure for
Itself?

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LAURENCIA
. Well, yes.

MENGO
. In other words, because
It loves itself, it seeks enjoyment for
Itself?

LAURENCIA
. I suppose so.

MENGO
. Well, there you have it.

Self-love's the only kind of love.

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I seek it just for my own pleasure.
I'm the object of the whole endeavour.

BARRILDO
. But I remember the village priest
Once talked in his sermon about

A certain Plato* and what he said

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On love, which was that we should love
Only the soul and virtue of
The one we love.

PASCUALA
. Such topics frazzle
The brains of wise professors in

Our colleges and great academies.

325

LAURENCIA
. She's right. So don't get tangled up
Yourself, supporting their idiocies.
Be thankful,
MENGO
, you weren't made
To love.

MENGO
. So who do you love?

LAURENCIA
. Only
My honour.

FRONDOSO . Then may God punish you

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And make you jealous!

BARRILDO
. So who's the winner?

PASCUALA
. You'd best go to the sacristan.
He or the priest are bound to have
An answer. As for the two of us,

LAURENCIA 's not in love and I've

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Got no experience. We can't judge.

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FRONDOSO
. Her coldness is my answer!

Enter
FLORES
.

FLORES
. May God be with you, good people!

PASCUALA
. It's the
COMMANDER
's lackey.

LAURENCIA . Such a fine falcon!* So where have you come

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From, friend?

FLORES
. Can't you tell by my uniform?

LAURENCIA
. Is Don Fernando here as well?

FLORES
. The battle's finished. It's cost us friends
And no little blood.

FRONDOSO
. So give us an account
Of it.

FLORES . Who better if my eyes

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Were witness to it all? In order to
Prepare for that campaign against the town,
Ciudad Real, the gallant
MASTER
chose
From all his valiant followers

Two thousand infantry, supported by

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Three hundred men on horseback, secular
And clerical -- for if they wear
The Cross upon their breast, they are
Obliged, though they be friars,* to take

Up arms against the Moorish infidel.

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The young man was a splendid sight,
His doublet green with gold embroidery,
Revealing at the sleeves armlets held
In place by six bright fastenings.

He sat astride a mighty stallion,

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In colour dapple-grey, which drank
From the Guadalquivir* and grazed
Upon the fertile pasture of its banks.
Its tail was bound by strips of leather,

Its mane adorned by bows that in

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Their whiteness matched the dappled pattern of

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