by Lope de Vega
At the ready. 125
They exit* and PASCUALA and LAURENCIAenter.
LAURENCIA. Let's hope he never comes back!
PASCUALA. Well, I'm damned!
I thought you'd be broken-hearted at
The news.
LAURENCIA. Heaven forbid! I'd rather not
See him again in Fuente Ovejuna!
PASCUALA. Believe me, LAURENCIA, I've seen others 130
As fierce as you, some fiercer still,
And underneath a heart as soft
As butter.
LAURENCIA. Have you seen an oak
As dry and hard as myself?
PASCUALA. Oh, get
Away with you! No one should say 135
'I'll never drink that water!'
LAURENCIA. Well I
Shan't, though others may say differently.
What good would it do me to fall
For Fernando? Do you think he'd marry me?
PASCUALA. No.
LAURENCIA. Then I'll have nothing to do 140
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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 145
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 150
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, 155
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, 160
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,* 165
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!), 170
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 175
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, 180
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 185
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, 190
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, 195
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. 205
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, 215
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. 220
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, 225
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; 230
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 240
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; 245
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, 250
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. 255
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, 260
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! 265
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<
br /> 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. 270
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 280
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 285
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 290
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 295
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. 300
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 305
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. 315
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 320
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 330
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 335
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 340
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 345
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 350
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. 355
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, 360
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 365
Their whiteness matched the dappled pattern of
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Its skin. And at the MASTER 's side
Fernán Gómez, your overlord, upon
A strong and honey-coloured steed,
Its hooves black, its mouth white. Over 370
A coat of mail in Turkish style,
Brightest armour front and back,
And an orange doublet, and set atop
All this a helmet whose white plumes
Seemed, against that orange, more 375
Like blossoms. About his arm a band
Of red and white, couching a lance
Which seemed a mighty oak before
Which all Granada* trembles. Ciudad Real
Then took to arms, its people claiming they 380
Were loyal to the Crown and would
Defend their rights to so remain.
Despite all this, the MASTER seized
The town, and those who had offended his
Good name soon had their heads cut off, 385
While those of lesser worth were gagged
And flogged in public view. He is
So feared there and yet so loved,
They all believe that one who, though
So young, can fight and overwhelm 390
His enemies, will one day be
The scourge of Moorish Africa, forcing
Those blue and crescent moons to yield
To his red Cross. He has displayed
Such generosity to all -- 395
To our COMMANDER too -- the sacking of
The town seems more the plunder of
His own estate. But now the music sounds.
Receive him joyfully! Goodwill
Is easily the best reward 400
For such a triumph.
Enter theCOMMANDER and ORTUñO; MUSICIANS;
JUAN ROJO; and ESTEBAN and ALONSO,
magistrates.
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MUSICIANS [sing]. All hail our great Commander,
We welcome him
most warmly;
He conquers foreign lands for us,
And overcomes our enemy. 405
Long live all the Guzmanes!
Long live all the Girones!
In peace he is so gentle,
He speaks his words so sweetly;
But when it comes to killing Moors, 410
As strong as any oak-tree!
He comes now from Ciudad Real,
The great and glorious victor;
He brings his banners with him
To Fuente Ovejuna! 415
May he enjoy long life!
All hail Fernán Gómez!
COMMANDER. People of this town, I duly thank
You for this demonstration of
Your love.
ALONSO. It is but part of what 420
We feel. But since you are deserving of
Our love, why be surprised by it?
ESTEBAN. Fuente Ovejuna and its councillors,
Whom you so honour, now request
That you receive the humble offerings 425
Brought by these carts* in all due modesty,
For they, adorned by leafy boughs,
Contain not costly gifts but much
Goodwill. First, two baskets filled
With polished pots of clay. And then 430
An entire flock of geese who stretch
Their necks through nets, eager to sing
Of your warlike deeds. Ten salted hogs,
Choice animals, as well as other kinds
Of cured meats whose skins are sweet 435
As amber-scented gloves. A hundred pairs
Of hens and capons, whose widowed spouses can
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Be found in all our neighbouring villages.
They cannot offer arms or horses,
Or bridles edged with pure gold, 440
And yet your vassals' love is in
Itself the purest gold. And since
I mention 'pure', I promise you that these
Twelve wineskins would, if your troops
But drank from them, give them such strength 445
