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Title: Four Plays of Gil Vicente

Author: Gil Vicente

Editor: Aubrey F. G. Bell

Release date: March 24, 2009 [eBook #28399]

Language: English, Portuguese

Credits: Produced by David Starner, Júlio Reis and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOUR PLAYS OF GIL VICENTE ***




Produced by David Starner, Júlio Reis and the Online
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TRANSCRIPTION NOTES:

* the English translation was placed after the Portuguese text (it was
originally side by side with the Portuguese text)

* critical edition notes were placed after the Portuguese text

* critical notes which refer to the play's introduction, before the line
numbering, were labelled '0.'

* accented characters were put between brackets, with an indication of
which accent they had, e.g. c with cedilla is [c,] and accented e is
['e]

* dagger was represented as [+]

* the paragraph sign (or pilcrow) was represented as [p]

* reversed question mark was represented as [?]

* Greek text was transliterated and marked as [Greek: ]

* ^ not preceded by a [ is used for superscript.





                            COPILACAM DE
                TODALAS OBRAS DE GIL VICENTE, A QVAL SE
            REPARTE EM CINCO LIVROS O PRIMEYRO HE DE TODAS
            suas cousas de deua[c,]am. O segundo as comedias.
          O terceyro as tragicomedias. No quarto as farsas.
                      No quinto as obras meudas.

                           [Illustration]

    [p] Empremiose em a muy nobre & sempre leal cidade de Lixboa
        em casa de Ioam Aluarez impressor del Rey nosso senhor
                          Anno de M D LXII

        [p] Foy visto polos deputados da Sancta Inquisi[c,]am.

                        COM PRIVILEGIO REAL.

[p] Vendem se a cruzado em papel em casa de Francisco fernandez na rua
                                noua.

    TITLE-PAGE OF THE FIRST (1562) EDITION OF GIL VICENTE'S WORKS




                      FOUR PLAYS OF GIL VICENTE


Edited from the _editio princeps_ (1562), with Translation and Notes, by

                          AUBREY F. G. BELL

    [Greek: Tharrein chr[^e] ton kai smikron ti dunamenon eis to prosthen
    aei pro["i]enai.]

                                          PLATO, _Sophistes_.

                              CAMBRIDGE
                      AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS
                                1920

                          KRAUS REPRINT CO.
                              New York
                                1969




      TO ALL THOSE WHO HAVE LABOURED IN THE VICENTIAN VINEYARD

                            LC 24-15201

                        _First Published 1920_
     _Reprinted by permission of the Cambridge University Press_
                          KRAUS REPRINT CO.
       A U. S. Division of Kraus-Thomson Organization Limited

                         Printed in U. S. A.




PREFACE


Gil Vicente, that sovereign genius[1], is too popular and indigenous for
translation and this may account for the fact that he has not been
presented to English readers. It is hoped, however, that a fairly
accurate version, with the text in view[2], may give some idea of his
genius. The religious, the patriotic-imperial, the satirical and the
pastoral sides of his drama are represented respectively by the _Auto da
Alma_, the _Exhorta[c,][~a]o_, the _Almocreves_ and the _Serra da
Estrella_, while his lyrical vein is seen in the _Auto da Alma_ and in
two delightful songs: the _serranilha_ of the _Almocreves_ and the
_cossante_ of the _Serra da Estrella_. Many of his plays, including some
of the most charming of his lyrics, were written in Spanish and this
limited the choice from the point of view of Portuguese literature, but
there are others of the Portuguese plays fully as well worth reading as
the four here given.

The text is that of the exceedingly rare first edition (1562). Apart
from accents and punctuation, it is reproduced without alteration,
unless a passage is marked by an asterisk, when the text of the _editio
princeps_ will be found in the foot-notes, in which variants of other
editions are also given.

In these notes A represents the _editio princeps_ (1562): _Copila[c,]am
de todalas obras de Gil Vicente, a qual se reparte em cinco livros. O
primeyro he de todas suas cousas de deua[c,]am. O segundo as comedias. O
terceyro as tragicomedias. No quarto as farsas. No quinto as obras
meudas. Empremiose em a muy nobre & sempre leal cidade de Lixboa em casa
de Ioam Aluarez impressor del Rey nosso senhor. Anno de MDLXII_. The
second (1586) edition (B) is the _Copila[c,]am de todalas obras de Gil
Vicente... Lixboa, por Andres Lobato, Anno de MDLXXXVJ_. A third edition
in three volumes appeared in 1834 (C): _Obras de Gil Vicente, correctas
e emendadas pelo cuidado e diligencia de J. V. Barreto Feio e J. G.
Monteiro_. Hamburgo, 1834. This was based, although not always with
scrupulous accuracy, on the _editio princeps_, and subsequent editions
have faithfully adhered to that of 1834: _Obras_, 3 vol. Lisboa, 1852
(D), and _Obras_, ed. Mendes dos Remedios, 3 vol. Coimbra, 1907, 12, 14
[_Subsidios_, vol. 11, 15, 17][3] (E). Although there has been a
tendency of late to multiply editions of Gil Vicente, no attempt has
been made to produce a critical edition. It is generally felt that that
must be left to the master hand of Dona Carolina Micha["e]lis de
Vasconcellos[4]. Since the plays of Vicente number over forty the
present volume is only a tentative step in this direction, but it may
serve to show the need of referring to, and occasionally emending, the
_editio princeps_ in any future edition of the most national poet of
Portugal[5].

AUBREY F. G. BELL.

_8 April 1920._


FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Este soberano ingenio._ Marcelino Men['e]ndez y Pelayo,
_Antologia_, tom. 7, p. clxiii.

[2] Although the text has been given without alteration it has not been
thought necessary to provide a precise rendering of the coarser
passages.

[3] The Paris 1843 edition is the Hamburg 1834 edition with a different
title-page. The _Auto da Alma_ was published separately at Lisbon in
1902 and again (in part) in _Autos de Gil Vicente. Compila[c,][~a]o e
prefacio de Affonso Lopes Vieira_, Porto, 1916; while extracts appeared
in _Portugal. An Anthology, edited with English versions, by George
Young._ Oxford, 1916. The present text and translation are reprinted, by
permission of the Editor, from _The Modern Language Review_.

[4] I understand that the eminent philologist Dr Jos['e] Leite de
Vasconcellos is also preparing an edition.

[5] Facsimiles of the title-pages of the two early editions of Vicente's
works are reproduced here through the courtesy of Senhor Anselmo
Braamcamp Freire.




CONTENTS


                                                            PAGE

    PREFACE                                                    v

    INTRODUCTION                                              ix

    AUTO DA ALMA (THE SOUL'S JOURNEY)                          1

    EXHORTA[C,]AO DA GUERRA (EXHORTATION TO WAR)              23

    FARSA DOS ALMOCREVES (THE CARRIERS)                       37

    TRAGICOMEDIA PASTORIL DA SERRA DA ESTRELLA                55

    NOTES                                                     73

    LIST OF PROVERBS IN GIL VICENTE'S WORKS                   84

    BIBLIOGRAPHY OF GIL VICENTE                               86

    CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF GIL VICENTE'S LIFE AND WORKS       89

    INDEX OF PERSONS AND PLACES                               95

           *       *       *       *       *

    FACSIMILE OF TITLE-PAGE OF THE FIRST EDITION (1562)
        OF GIL VICENTE'S WORKS                    _Frontispiece_

    FACSIMILE OF TITLE-PAGE OF THE SECOND EDITION
        (1586)                                        _page_ lii




INTRODUCTION


I. LIFE AND PLAYS OF GIL VICENTE

Those who read the voluminous song-book edited by jolly Garcia de
Resende in 1516 are astonished at its narrowness and aridity. There is
scarcely a breath of poetry or of Nature in these Court verses. In the
pages of Gil Vicente[6], who had begun to write fourteen years before
the _Cancioneiro Geral_ was published, the Court is still present, yet
the atmosphere is totally different. There are many passages in his
plays which correspond to the conventional love-poems of the courtiers
and he maintains the personal satire to be found both in the
_Cancioneiro da Vaticana_ and the _Cancioneiro de Resende_. But he is
also a child of Nature, with a marvellous lyrical gift and the insight
to revive and renew the genuine poetry which had existed in Galicia and
the north of Portugal before the advent of the Proven[c,]al love-poetry,
had sprung into a splendid harvest in rivalry with that poetry and died
down under the Spanish influence of the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries. He was moreover a national and imperial poet, embracing the
whole of Portuguese life and the whole rapidly growing Portuguese
empire. We can only account for the difference by saying that Gil
Vicente was a genius, the only great genius of that day in Portugal, and
the most gifted poet of his time. It is therefore all the more
tantalizing that we should know so little about him. A few documents
recently unearthed, one or two scanty references by contemporary or
later authors, are all the information we have apart from that which may
be gleaned from the rubrics and colophons of his plays and from the
plays themselves. The labours of Dona Carolina Micha["e]lis de
Vasconcellos, Dr Jos['e] Leite de Vasconcellos[7] and Snr Anselmo
Braamcamp Freire are likely to provide us before long with the first
critical edition of his plays. The ingenious suppositions of Dr
Theophilo Braga[8] have, as usual, led to much discussion and research.
He is the Mofina Mendes of critics, putting forward a hypothesis,
translating it a few pages further on into a certainty and building
rapidly on these foundations till an argument adduced or a document
discovered by another critic brings the whole edifice toppling to the
ground. The documents brought to light by General Brito Rebello[9] and
Senhor Anselmo Braamcamp Freire[10] enable us to construct a sketch of
Gil Vicente's life, while D. Carolina Micha["e]lis has shed a flood of
light upon certain points[11]. The chronological table at the end of
this volume is founded mainly, as to the order of the plays, on the
documents and arguments recently set forth by one of the most
distinguished of modern historical critics, Senhor Anselmo Braamcamp
Freire. The plays, read in this order, throw a certain amount of new
light on Gil Vicente's life and give it a new cohesion. Whether we
consider it from the point of view of his own country or of the world,
or of literature, art and science, his life coincides with one of the
most wonderful periods in the world's history. At his birth Portugal was
a sturdy mediaeval country, proud of her traditions and heroic past. Her
heroes were so national as scarcely to be known beyond her own borders.
Nun' Alvarez (1360-1431), one of the greatest men of all time, is even
now unknown to Europe. And Portugal herself as yet hardly appraised at
its true worth the life and work of Prince Henry the Navigator
(1394-1460), at whose incentive she was still groping persistently along
the western coast of Africa. His nephew Afonso V, the amiable grandson
of Nun' Alvarez' friend, the Master of Avis, and the English princess
Philippa of Lancaster, daughter of John of Gaunt, was on the throne, to
be succeeded by his stern and resolute son Jo[~a]o II in 1481. In his
boyhood, spent in the country, somewhere in the green hills of Minho or
the rugged grandeur and bare, flowered steeps of the Serra da Estrella,
all _ossos e burel_[12], Gil Vicente might hear dramatic stories of the
doings at the capital and Court, of the beginning of the new reign, of
the beheadal of the Duke of Braganza in the Rocio of Evora, of the
stabbing by the King's own hand of his cousin and brother-in-law, the
young Duke of Viseu, of the baptism and death at Lisbon of a native
prince from Guinea.

The place of his birth is not certain. Biographers have hesitated
between Lisbon, Guimar[~a]es and Barcellos: perhaps he was not born in
any of these towns but in some small village of the north of Portugal.
We can at least say that he was not brought up at Lisbon. The proof is
his knowledge and love of Nature and his intimate acquaintance with the
ways of villagers, their character, customs, amusements, dances, songs
and language. It is legitimate to draw certain inferences--provided we
do not attach too great importance to them--from his plays, especially
since we know that he himself staged them and acted in them[13]. His
earliest compositions are especially personal and we may be quite sure
that the parts of the herdsman in the _Visita[c,]am_ (1502) and of the
mystically inclined shepherd, Gil Terron, in the _Auto Pastoril
Castelhano_ (1502) and the _rustico pastor_ in the _Auto dos Reis Magos_
(1503) were played by Vicente himself. It is therefore well to note the
passage in which Silvestre and Bras express surprise at Gil's learning:

    _S._ Mudando vas la pelleja,
         Sabes de achaque de igreja!

    _G._ Ahora lo deprendi....

    _B._ Quien te viese no dir['a]
         Que naciste en serran['i]a.

    _G._ Dios hace estas maravillas.

It is possible that Gil Vicente, like Gil Terron, had been born _en
serran['i]a_. Dr Leite de Vasconcellos was the first to call attention
to his special knowledge of the province of Beira, and the reference to
the Serra da Estrella dragged into the _Comedia do Viuvo_ is of even
more significance than the conventional _beir[~a]o_ talk of his
peasants. Nor is the learning in his plays such as to give a moment's
support to the theory that he had, like Enzina, received a university
education, or, as some, relying on an unreliable _nobiliario_, have
held, was tutor (_mestre de rhetorica_) to Prince, afterwards King,
Manuel. The King, according to Dami[~a]o de Goes, 'knew enough Latin to
judge of its style.' Probably he did not know much more of it than Gil
Vicente himself. His first productions are without the least pretension
to learning: they are close imitations of Enzina's eclogues. Later his
outlook widened; he read voraciously[14] and seems to have pounced on
any new publication that came to the palace, among them the works of two
slightly later Spanish playwrights, Lucas Fern['a]ndez and Bartolom['e]
de Torres Naharro. With the quickness of genius and spurred forward by
the malicious criticism of his audience, their love of new things and
the growing opposition of the introducers of the new style from Italy,
he picked up a little French and Italian, while Church Latin and law
Latin early began to creep into his plays. The parade of erudition
(which is also a satire on pedants) at the beginning of the _Auto da
Mofina Mendes_ is, however, that of a comparatively uneducated man in a
library, of rustic Gil Vicente in the palace. Rather we would believe
that he spent his early life in peasant surroundings, perhaps actually
keeping goats in the scented hills like his Prince of Wales, Dom
Duardos: _De mozo guard['e] ganado_, and then becoming an apprentice in
the goldsmith's art, perhaps to his father or uncle, Martim Vicente, at
Guimar[~a]es. It is extremely probable that he was drawn to the Court,
then at Evora, for the first time in 1490 by the unprecedented
festivities in honour of the wedding of the Crown Prince and Isabel,
daughter of the Catholic Kings, and was one of the many goldsmiths who
came thither on that occasion[15]. If that was so, his work may have at
once attracted the attention of King Jo[~a]o II, who, as Garcia de
Resende tells us, keenly encouraged the talents of the young men in his
service, and the protection of his wife, Queen Lianor. He may have been
about 25 years old at the time. The date of his birth has become a
fascinating problem, over which many critics have argued and disagreed.
As to the exact year it is best frankly to confess our ignorance. The
information is so flimsy and conflicting as to make the acutest critics
waver. While a perfectly unwarranted importance has been given to a
passage in Vicente's last _comedia_, the _Floresta de Enganos_ (1536),
in which a judge declares that he is 66 (therefore Gil Vicente was born
in 1470), sufficient stress has perhaps not been laid on the lines in
the play from the Conde de Sabugosa's library, the _Auto da Festa_, in
which Gil Vicente is declared to be 'very stout and over 60.' This
cannot be dismissed like the former passage, for it is evidently a
personal reference to Gil Vicente. It was the comedian's ambition to
raise a laugh in his audience and this might be effected by saying the
exact opposite of what the audience knew to be true: e.g. to speak of
Gil Vicente as very stout and over 60 if he was very young and
spectre-thin. But Vicente was certainly not very young when this play
was written and we may doubt whether the victim of _calentura_ and hater
of heat (he treats summer scurvily in his _Auto dos Quatro Tempos_) was
thin. We have to accept the fact that he was over 60 when the _Auto da
Festa_ was written. But when was it written? Its editor, the Conde de
Sabugosa, to whom all Vicente lovers owe so deep a debt of
gratitude[16], assigned it to 1535, while Senhor Braamcamp Freire, who
uses Vicente's age as a double-edged weapon[17], places it twenty years
earlier, in 1515. This was indeed necessary if the year 1452 was to be
maintained as the date of his birth. The theory of the exact date 1452
was due to another passage of the plays: the old man in _O Velho da
Horta_, formerly assigned to 1512, is 60 (III. 75). Yet there is
something slightly comical in stout old Gil Vicente beginning his
actor's career at the age of 50 and keeping it up till he was 86. Other
facts that may throw light on his age are as follows: in 1502 he almost
certainly acted the boisterous part of _vaqueiro_ in the
_Visita[c,]am_[18]. In 1512 he is over 40 and married (inference from
his appointment as one of the 24 representatives of Lisbon guilds in
that year). In 1512 a 'son of Gil Vicente' is in India. His son Belchior
is a small boy in 1518. In 1515 he received a sum of money to enable his
sister Felipa Borges to marry. In 1531 he declares himself to be 'near
death'[19], although evidently not ill at the time. He died very
probably at the end of 1536 or beginning of 1537[20]. Accepting the fact
that the _Auto da Festa_ was written before the _Templo de Apolo_ (1526)
I would place it as late as possible, i.e. in the year 1525, and
subtracting 60 believe that the date _c._ 1465 for Gil Vicente's birth
will be found to agree best with the various facts given above.

The wedding of the Crown Prince of Portugal and the Infanta Isabel was
celebrated most gorgeously at Evora. The Court gleamed with plate and
jewellery[21]. There were banquets and tournaments, _ricos momos_ and
_singulares antremeses_, pantomimes or interludes produced with great
splendour--e.g. a sailing ship moved on the stage over what appeared to
be waves of the sea, a band of twenty pilgrims advanced with gilt
staffs, etc., etc.--all the luxurious show which had made the
_entremeses_ of Portugal famous and from which Vicente must have taken
many an idea for the staging of his plays. Next year the tragic death of
the young prince, still in his teens, owing to a fall from his horse at
Santarem, turned all the joy to ashes. Gil Vicente was certainly not
less impressed than Luis Anriquez, who laments the death of Prince
Afonso in the _Cancioneiro Geral_, or Juan del Enzina, who made it the
subject of his version or paraphrase of Virgil's 5th eclogue. Vicente's
acquaintance with Enzina's works may date from this period, although we
need not press Enzina's words _yo vi_ too literally to mean that he was
actually present at the Portuguese Court. Vicente may have accompanied
the King and Queen to Lisbon in October of this year, but for the next
ten years we know as much of his life as for the preceding twenty, that
is to say, we know nothing at all. The only reference to his sojourn at
the Court of King Jo[~a]o II occurs in the mouth of Gil Terron (I, 9):

      [?]Conociste a Juan domado
         Que era pastor de pastores?
         Yo lo vi entre estas flores
         Con gran hato de ganado
         Con su cayado real.

A note in the _editio princeps_ declares the reference to be to King
Jo[~a]o II. If we read _domado_ it can only be applied to the
indomitable Jo[~a]o II in the sense of having yielded to the will of
Queen Lianor in acknowledging as heir her brother Manuel in preference
to his illegitimate son Jorge. Perhaps however it is best to read
_damado_, which recurs in the same play. Perhaps we may even see in the
passage an allusion merely to an incident occurring in the time of
Jo[~a]o II and not to the King himself[22]. We may surmise that about
this time, perhaps as early as 1490, Vicente became goldsmith to Queen
Lianor. The events of this wonderful decade must have moved him
profoundly, events sufficient to stir even a dullard's imagination as
new world after new world swept into his ken: the conquest of Granada
from the Moors in 1492, the arrival of Columbus at Lisbon from America
in 1493, the similar return of Vasco da Gama six years later from India,
the discovery of Brazil in 1500. Two years later Vicente emerges into
the light of day. King Manuel had succeeded to the throne on the death
of King Jo[~a]o (25 Oct. 1495) and had married the princess Maria,
daughter of the Catholic Kings. Their eldest son, Jo[~a]o, who was to
rule Portugal as King Jo[~a]o III from 1521 to 1557, was born on June 6,
1502, on which day a great storm swept over Lisbon. On the following
evening[23] or on the evening of June 8 Gil Vicente, dressed as a
herdsman, broke into the Queen's chamber in the presence of the Queen,
King Manuel, his mother Dona Beatriz, his sister Queen Lianor, who was
one of the prince's godmothers, and others, and recited in Spanish a
brief monologue of 114 lines. Having expressed rustic wonder at the
splendour of the palace and the universal joy at the birth of an heir to
the throne he calls in some thirty companions to offer their humble
gifts of eggs, milk, curds, cheese and honey. Queen Lianor was so
pleased with this 'new thing'--for hitherto there had been no literary
entertainments to vary either the profane _ser[~a]os de dansas e bailos_
or the religious solemnities of the court--that she wished Vicente to
repeat the performance at Christmas. He preferred, however, to compose a
new _auto_ more suitable to the occasion and duly produced the _Auto
Pastoril Castelhano_. King Manuel had just returned to Lisbon from a
pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in thanksgiving for the
discovery of the sea-route to India. He found the Queen in the palace of
Santos o Velho and was received _com muita alegria_. But no allusion to
great contemporary events troubles the rustic peace of this _auto_,
which is some four times as long as the _Visita[c,]am_, and which
introduces several simple shepherds to whom the Angel announces the
birth of the Redeemer. Queen Lianor was delighted (_muito satisfeita_)
and a few days later, on the Day of Kings (6 Jan. 1503), a third
pastoral play, the _Auto dos Reis Magos_, was acted, the introduction of
a knight and a hermit giving it a greater variety. The _Auto da Sibila
Cassandra_ has been assigned to the same year, and the _Auto dos Quatro
Tempos_ and _Quem tem farelos?_ to 1505, but there are good reasons for
giving them a later date. The only play that can be confidently asserted
to have been produced by Vicente between January 1503 and the end of
1508 is the brief dialogue between the beggar and St Martin: the _Auto
de S. Martinho_, in ten Spanish verses _de rima cuadrada_, recited
before Queen Lianor in the Caldas church during the Corpus Christi
procession of 1504. The reasons for this silence are not far to seek. In
September 1503, Dom Vasco da Gama returned from his second voyage to
India with the first tribute of gold: 'The lords and nobles who were
then at Court went to visit him on his ship and accompanied him to the
palace. A page went before him bearing in a bason the 2000 _miticaes_ of
gold of the tribute of the King of Quiloa and the agreement made with
him and the Kings of Cananor and Cochin. Of this gold King Manuel
ordered a monstrance to be wrought for the service of the altar, adorned
with precious stones, and commanded that it should be presented to the
Convent of Bethlehem[24].' At this monstrance, still the pride of
Portuguese art, Gil Vicente worked during three years (1503-6). He was
perhaps already living in the Lisbon house in the _Rua de Jerusalem_
assigned to him by his patroness, Queen Lianor[25]. There were other
reasons for his silence. The death of Queen Isabella of Spain in 1504
and again the death of King Manuel's mother, Dona Beatriz, in 1506,
threw the Portuguese Court into mourning. Plague and famine raged at
Lisbon from 1505 to 1507, while, after the awful massacre of Jews at
Easter 1506, during which some thousands were stabbed or burnt to death,
the city of Lisbon was placed under an interdict which was not raised
till 1508.

Let us take advantage of Vicente's long silence to explain why it can be
asserted so confidently that he was now at work on the Belem _custodia_.
The burden of producing some definite document to show that Gil Vicente
the poet and Gil Vicente the goldsmith were two different persons rests
on the opponents of identity. The late Marcelino Men['e]ndez y Pelayo,
whose death in 1912 was a great blow to Portuguese as well as to Spanish
literature, would certainly have changed his view if he had lived. In
his brilliant study of Gil Vicente, a 'sovereign genius,' 'the most
national playwright before Lope de Vega[26],' 'the greatest figure of
our primitive theatre[27],' he remarked that if Vicente had been a
goldsmith and one of such skill he must infallibly have left some trace
of it in his dramatic works and that the contemporaries who mention him
would not have preserved a profound silence as to his artistic
talent[28]; yet Men['e]ndez y Pelayo himself speaks of Vicente's _alma
de artista_[29] and of the plastic character which the most fantastic
allegorical figures receive at his hands[30]. If we were assured that
the dreamy Bernardim Ribeiro had fashioned the Belem monstrance we might
well remain sceptical, but Vicente stands out from among the vaguer
poets of Portugal in having, like Garcia de Resende, an extremely
definite style, and his imagination, as in his dream of fair women in
the _Templo de Apolo_, coins concrete figures, not intellectual
abstractions. Resende, we know, was a skilled draughtsman as well as
poet, chronicler and musician, and it is curious that the very phrase
applied by Vicente to Resende, _de tudo entende_ (II, 406), is used of
Vicente himself in an anecdote quoted by Senhor Braamcamp Freire. As to
his own silence and that of his contemporaries, their silence[31]
concerning the presence of two Gil Vicentes at Court would be quite as
astonishing, especially as they distinguish between other homonyms of
the time, and the silent satellite dogged the poet Vicente's steps with
the strangest persistence. According to the discoveries or inventions of
the Visconde Sanches de Baena[32] he was the poet's uncle; according to
Dr Theophilo Braga they were cousins[33]. The poet, as many passages in
his plays show, was interested in the goldsmith's art[34]; the goldsmith
wrote verses[35]. The poet made his first appearance in 1502, the artist
in 1503. Splendid as was the Portuguese Court and although its members
had almost doubled in number in less than a century[36], the King did
not keep men there merely on the chance of their producing 'a new
thing.' The sovereign of a great and growing empire had something better
to do than to indulge in forecasts as to the potential talents of his
subjects. When Gil Vicente in 1502 produced a new thing in Portugal his
presence in the palace can only be explained by his having an employment
there, and since we know that Queen Lianor had a goldsmith called Gil
Vicente who wrote verses and since the poet wrote all his earlier plays
for Queen Lianor[37], it is rational to suppose that this employment was
that of goldsmith to the Queen-Dowager. His presence at Court was
certainly not by right of birth: Vicente was not a 'gentleman of good
family,' as Ticknor and others have supposed, but the noble art of the
goldsmith (its practice was forbidden in the following century to slaves
and negroes) would enable him to associate familiarly with the
courtiers. In 1509 or later[38] the poet joined, at the request of Queen
Lianor, in a poetical contest concerning a gold chain, in which another
poet, addressing Vicente, refers especially to necklaces and jewels. In
the same year Gil Vicente is appointed overseer of works of gold and
silver at the Convent of the Order of Christ, Thomar, the Hospital of
All Saints, Lisbon, and the Convent of Belem. At the Hospital of All
Saints the poet staged one of his plays. To Thomar and its fevers he
refers more than once and presented the _Farsa de Ines Pereira_ there in
1523. In 1513 he is appointed _Mestre da Balan[c,]a_, in 1517 he resigns
and in 1521 the poet alludes to the goldsmith's former colleagues: _os
da Moeda_, while his production as playwright increases after the
resignation and his complaints of poverty become more frequent[39]. In
1520 Gil Vicente the goldsmith is entrusted by King Manuel with the
preparations for the royal entry into Lisbon, an _auto_ figuring in the
programme. If there was nothing new in a goldsmith writing verses the
drama of Vicente was an innovation and Jo[~a]o de Barros would quite
naturally refer (as Andr['e] de Resende before him) to the
poet-goldsmith as _Gil Vicente comico_. On the other hand there is an
almost brutal egoism in the silence concerning his unfortunate uncle (or
cousin) maintained by Gil Vicente, who refers to himself as poet more
than once, with evident pride in his _autos_. Recently General Brito
Rebello (1830-1920), whose researches helped to give shape and substance
to Gil Vicente's life, discovered a document of 1535 in which the poet's
signature differs notably from that of the goldsmith in 1515[40]. It is,
however, possible to maintain that the former signature is not that of
Gil Vicente at all and that the words of the document _per seu filho
Belchior Vicente_ mean that Belchior signed in his father's name; or,
alternatively, we can only say that Gil Vicente's handwriting had
changed, a change especially frequent in artists. To those who examine
all the evidence impartially there can remain very little doubt that Gil
Vicente was first known at Court for his skill as goldsmith, and that he
began writing verses and plays at the suggestion of his patroness, Queen
Lianor.

On March 3, 1506, Vicente momentarily resumed his literary character and
composed for Queen Lianor a long lay sermon, spoken before the King on
the occasion of the birth of the Infante Luis (1506-55), who was himself
a poet and the friend and patron of men of letters. The envious feared
that Vicente was playing too many parts and contended that this was no
time for a sermon by a layman, but Vicente excused himself with the
saying, commonly attributed to Garci Sanchez de Badajoz, that if they
would permit him to play the fool this once he would leave it to them
for the rest of their lives, and launched into the exposition of his
text: _Non volo, volo et deficior_. His next play _Quem tem farelos?_
is assigned by Senhor Braamcamp Freire to December 1508 or January
1509[41]. The reference to the _embate_ in Africa in all probability
alludes to the siege of Arzila in 1508. King Manuel had made
preparations to set sail for an African campaign in 1501 and 1503, but
the word _embate_ implies something more definite. The later date (it
was formerly assigned to 1505) is more suitable to the finished art of
this first farce and to the fact that its success--so great that the
people gave it the name by which it is still known, i.e. the first three
words of the play--would be likely to cause its author to produce
another farce without delay. Its successor, the _Auto da India_, acted
before Queen Lianor at Almada in 1509, has not the same unity and its
action begins in 1506 and ends in 1509. It displays a broader outlook
and the influence of the discovery of India on the home-life of
Portugal. In 1509 the fleet sailed from Lisbon under Marshal Coutinho on
March 12 and _Maio_ (III. 28) might be a misprint for _Mar[c,]o_; the
_partida_ alluded to, however, is that of Trist[~a]o da Cunha and Afonso
de Albuquerque in 1506. It is just possible that _Quem tem farelos?_ was
begun in 1505 (the date of its rubric) and the _Auto da India_ in 1506.
Early in this year 1509 (Feb. 15) Vicente received the appointment of
_Vedor_ and at Christmas of the following year he produced a play at
Almeirim, a favourite residence of King Manuel, who spent a part of most
winters there in the pleasures of the chase[42]. This _Auto da F['e]_ is
but a simple conversation between Faith and two peasants, who marvel at
the richness of the Royal Chapel. In 1511, perhaps at Carnival[43], the
_Auto das Fadas_ further shows the expansion, perhaps we may say the
warping, of his natural genius, for although we may rejoice in the
presentation of the witch Genebra Pereira, the play soon turns aside to
satirical allusions to courtiers, while the Devil gabbles in picardese.
Peasants' _beir[~a]o_ with a few scraps of biblical Latin had hitherto
been Vicente's only theatrical resource as regards language. The _Farsa
dos Fisicos_ is now[44] assigned to 1512, early in the year. It is leap
year (III. 317) and Senhor Braamcamp Freire sees in the lines (III.
323):

        Voyme a la huerta de amores
        Y traer['e] una ensalada
        Por Gil Vicente guisada
        Y diz que otra de mas flores
        Para Pascoa tien sembrada

a reference to _O Velho da Horta_, acted before King Manuel in 1512. In
August of the following year James, Duke of Braganza, set sail from
Lisbon with a fleet of 450 ships to conquer Azamor:

        Foi h[~u]a das cousas mais para notar
        Que vimos nem vio a gente passada[45].


Gil Vicente was in the most successful period of his life. In December
1512 he was chosen by the Guild of Goldsmiths to be one of the
twenty-four Lisbon guild representatives and some months later he was
selected by the twenty-four to be one of their four proctors, with a
seat in the Lisbon Town Council. On February 4, 1513, he had become
Master of the Lisbon Mint. For the departure of the fleet against Azamor
he comes forward as the poet laureate of the nation and vehemently
inveighs against sloth and luxury while he sings a hymn to the glories
of Portugal. The play alludes to the gifts sent to the Pope in the
following year and this probably led to the date of the rubric (1514),
but it also refers to the royal marriages of 1521, 1525 and 1530, and we
may thus assume that it was written in 1513 and touched up for a later
production or for the collection of Vicente's plays. Perhaps at
Christmas of this year was acted before Queen Lianor in the Convent of
Enxobregas at Lisbon the _Auto da Sibila Cassandra_, hitherto placed ten
years earlier. Senhor Braamcamp Freire points out that the Convent was
only founded in 1509[46]. A scarcely less cogent argument for the later
date is the finish of the verse and the exquisiteness of the lyrics,
although the action is simple and the reminiscences of Enzina are
many[47] (a fact which does not necessarily imply an early date:
Enzina's echo verses are imitated in the _Comedia de Rubena_, 1521). We
may note that the story of Troy is running in Vicente's head as in the
_Exhorta[c,][~a]o_ of 1513 (he had probably just read the _Cronica
Troyana_). The last lyric, _A la guerra, caballeros_, is out of keeping
with the rest of the play, but fighting in Africa was so frequent that
it cannot help to determine the play's date. It is in this period
(1512-14) that it is customary to place the death of Vicente's first
wife Branca Bezerra, leaving him two sons, Gaspar and Belchior. She was
buried at Evora with the epitaph:

        Aqui jaz a mui prudente
        Senhora Branca Becerra
        Mulher de Gil Vicente
        Feita terra.

This gives the _Comedia do Viuvo_, acted in 1514, a personal note, which
is emphasized by the names of the widower's daughters, Paula, the name
of Gil Vicente's eldest daughter, and Melicia, the name of his second
wife. In the following year private grief was merged in the growing
renown of Portugal in the _Auto da Fama_, which the rubric attributes to
1510, although it alludes to the siege of Goa (1510), the capture of
Malaca (1511), the victorious expedition against Azamor (1513), and the
attack on Aden (1513). It was acted first before Queen Lianor and then
before King Manuel at Lisbon, and we may surmise that it was written or
begun when the first news of Albuquerque's successes reached Lisbon and
recast in 1515. The year 1516 has also been suggested, but the death of
King Ferdinand the Catholic in January of that year and the death of
Albuquerque in December 1515 render this date unsuitable. Even if the
play was acted at Christmas 1515, there is the ironical circumstance
that, at the moment when the Court was ringing with praises of the
Portuguese deeds in India, the great Governor was lying dead at Goa. The
date of the _Auto dos Quatro Tempos_ is equally problematic. It was
acted before King Manuel at the command of Queen Lianor in the S. Miguel
Chapel of the Alca[c,]ova palace on a Christmas morning. The name of the
palace indicates the year 1505 or an earlier date[48], and it has been
assigned to the year 1503 or 1504; but the superior development of the
play's structure and even of its thought (e.g. I. 78), its resemblance
to the _Triunfo do Inverno_ (1529), the introduction of a French song,
of the gods of Greece and of a psalm similar to that in the _Auto da
Mofina Mendes_ (1534)[49] and the perfection of the metre all indicate a
fairly late date, while imitations of Enzina[50] are not conclusive. On
the whole the intrinsic evidence counterbalances the statement of the
rubric as to the Alca[c,]ova palace and we may boldly assign this
delightful piece to Christmas 1516[51], while admitting that in a
rougher form it may have been presented to Queen Lianor[52] at a much
earlier date.

The approximate date of the next play, the _Auto da Barca do Inferno_,
is certain. This first part of Vicente's remarkable trilogy of _Barcas_
was acted 'in the Queen's chamber for the consolation of the very
catholic and holy Queen Dona Maria in the illness of which she died in
1517.' If we manipulate the commas so as to make the date refer to the
play as well as to the Queen's death, the remedy proved fatal, for she
died on March 7, but it is possible that it was acted earlier, towards
the end of 1516. The subject was a gloomy one but its treatment was
intended to raise many a laugh and it ends with the famous brief
invocation of the Angel to the knights who had died fighting in Africa.
On August 6, 1517, Vicente resigned the post of Master of the Mint in
favour of Diogo Rodriguez and probably about this time he married his
second wife, Melicia Rodriguez. The second and third parts of the
_Barcas_ trilogy were given in 1518 and 1519, but between the first and
third parts Senhor Braamcamp Freire now places the _Auto da Alma_, and
his scholarly suggestion[53] is amply borne out by the maturity and
perfection of this beautiful play[54] and by the likelihood that Vicente
when he wrote it was acquainted with Lucas Fern['a]ndez' _Auto de la
Pasion_ (1514). The _Auto da Barca do Purgatorio_ was acted before Queen
Lianor on Christmas morning, 1518, at the _Hospital de Todolos Santos_
(Lisbon). King Manuel had been at Lisbon in July of this year, going
thence to Sintra, Collares, Torres Vedras and Almeirim, whence at the
end of November he proceeded to Crato to welcome his new Queen, Dona
Lianor. They returned together to Almeirim and the next months were
spent there 'in great bullfights, jousts, balls and other entertainments
till the beginning of Spring [May] when the King went to Evora[55].' The
_Auto da Barca da Gloria_ was played before his Majesty in Holy Week,
1519, and the fact that it is in Spanish and treats not of 'low
figures,' but of nobles and prelates, reveals the taste of the Court and
the wish to please the young Queen. In the following year (Nov. 29,
1520) Vicente was sent from Evora to Lisbon to prepare for the entry of
the King and Queen into their capital (January 1521). He seems to have
worked hard in arranging and directing the festivities, and in the same
year (1521) he staged both the _Comedia de Rubena_ and the _Cortes de
Jupiter_. The latter is the only Vicente play of which we have a
contemporary description. It was acted on the departure of the King's
daughter, Beatriz, at the age of sixteen to espouse the Duke of Savoy.
Her dowry, including precious stones, pearls and necklaces, was
magnificent, and after brilliant rejoicings at Lisbon she embarked on a
ship of a thousand tons in a fleet commanded by the Conde de Villa Nova.
She was accompanied by the Archbishop of Lisbon and many nobles. On the
evening of August 4, in the Ribeira palace 'in a large hall all adorned
with rich tapestry of gold, well carpeted, with canopy, chairs and
cushions of rich brocade, began a great ball in which the King our lord
danced with the lady Infanta Duchess his daughter and the Queen our lady
with the Infanta D. Isabel, and the Prince our lord and the Infante D.
Luis with ladies they chose; and so all the courtiers danced who were
going to Savoy and many other gentlemen and courtiers for a long space.
And the dancing over, began an excellent and well devised comedy with
many most natural and well adorned figures, written and acted for the
marriage and departure of the Infanta; and with this very skilful and
suitable play the evening ended[56].'

Twenty weeks after these splendid scenes and the _alegrias d'aquelas
naves tam belas_[57] the King was dead. He died (13 Dec. 1521) in the
full tide of apparent prosperity. As he watched the slow funeral
procession passing in the night from the palace to Belem amid 600
burning torches[58] Gil Vicente must have thought of his own altered
position. King Manuel had treated his sister's goldsmith generously[59]
and had personally attended the acting of many of his plays. The
diversion of elephant and rhinoceros had been only a momentary
backsliding, and he had sat through the whole of the _Barca da Gloria_,
in which a King and an Emperor fared so lamentably at the hands of the
modern Silenus. But he does not appear to have done anything to secure
the poet's well-being. King Manuel's sister, Vicente's faithful
patroness, was, however, still alive, and he had much to hope from the
new king who had grown up along with the Vicentian drama. Vicente's
first literary production had celebrated his birth, at the age of nine
the prince had been given a special verse in the _Auto das Fadas_ (III.
111), at the age of twelve he had actually intervened in the acting of
the _Comedia do Viuvo_ (II. 99), although his part was confined to a
single sentence. Finally, in the very year of his accession, he had been
represented as a second Alexander in the _Cortes de Jupiter_, and the
_Comedia de Rubena_ had been acted especially for him[60]. But King
Jo[~a]o III had not the careless temperament or graceful magnificence of
his father, and while he evidently trusted Vicente and showed him
constant goodwill--we have the proof in the pensions received by Vicente
during this reign--the favourite of one king rarely finds the same
atmosphere in the _entourage_ of his successor, however friendly the
king himself. Thus while Jo[~a]o III brooded over affairs of Church and
State the _detractores_ had more opportunity to attack the Court
dramatist. On December 19 the new king was proclaimed at Lisbon and
Vicente, placed too far away to hear what was said at the ceremony,
invented verses which he placed on the lips of the various courtiers as
they kissed hands (III. 358-64). It was not only the king but the times
that had changed, and King Manuel died not a moment too soon if he
wished not to see the reverse side of the brightly coloured tapestry of
his reign. Vicente ends his verses with the significant words:

        Diria o povo em geral:
        Bonan[c,]a nos seja dada,
        Que a tormenta passada
        Foi tanta e tam desigual.


In the following year he wrote a burlesque lamentation and testament,
entitled _Pranto de Maria Parda_, 'because she saw so few branches in
the streets of Lisbon and wine so dear, and she could not live without
it[61].' In the late summer of 1523 in the celebrated convent of Thomar
he presented one of his most famous farces before the King: _Farsa de
Ines Pereira_. The critics were already gaining ground and 'certain men
of good learning' doubted whether he was the author of his plays or
stole them from others, a doubt suggested perhaps by the somewhat close
resemblance of the _Barca da Gloria_ to the Spanish _Danza de la
Muerte_.

Vicente vindicated his originality by taking as his theme the proverb
'Better an ass that carries me than a horse that throws me,' and
developing it into this elaborate comedy. At Christmas of the same year
at Evora, in the introductory speech of the _Auto Pastoril Portugues_,
placed in the mouth of a _beir[~a]o_ peasant, the audience is informed
that poor Gil who writes plays for the King is without a farthing and
cannot be expected to produce them as splendidly as when he had the
means (I. 129). He was probably disappointed that the 6 milreis which he
had received that year (May 1523) was not a regular pension. His
complaint fell on listening ears and in 1524 (the year of Cam[~o]es'
birth) he was granted two pensions, of 12 and of 8 milreis, while in
January 1525 he received a yet further pension of three bushels of
wheat. Thus, although his possession of an estate near Torres Vedras,
not far from Lisbon, has been proved to be a myth and we know that the
entire fortune of his widow consisted in 1566 of ten milreis and that of
his son Luis of thirty[62], and while we must remember his expenses in
travelling and in the production of his plays, his financial position
compares very favourably with that of Luis de Cam[~o]es half a century
later.

The _Fragoa de Amor_, wrongly assigned to 1525, belongs to the year
1524, the occasion being the betrothal of King Jo[~a]o III to Catharina,
sister of the Emperor Charles V[63]. The year 1525 is the most discussed
date in the Vicentian chronology. Two plays are doubtfully assigned to
it and we may perhaps add a third, the _Auto da Festa_, as well as the
_trovas_ addressed to the Conde de Vimioso. Senhor Braamcamp Freire[64]
plausibly places in this year the _Farsa das Ciganas_, although the date
of the rubric is 1521, the year perhaps in which the idea of this slight
piece took shape in the poet's brain. There is a more definite reason
for assigning _Dom Duardos_ to this year. It is a play based on the
romance of chivalry commonly known as _Primaleon_, of which a new
edition appeared at Seville in October 1524[65], and we know from Gil
Vicente's dedication that Queen Lianor ([+] 17 Dec. 1525) was still
alive[66]. Yet we are still in the region of hypothesis, for the
adventures of Dom Duardos were in print since 1512 (Salamanca)[67], and
we may perhaps doubt whether this 'delicious idyl[68],' the longest of
Vicente's works, was ready a year after the publication of the Seville
edition, although as Senhor Braamcamp Freire points out[69], the
betrothal of the Emperor Charles V to the King's sister was a suitable
occasion for the production of the play[70]. The only play assigned with
some certainty to 1525 is that in which the husband of Ines Pereira
reappears as a rustic judge _[`a] la Sancho Panza: O Juiz da Beira_, acted
before the King at Almeirim.

It was a year of famine and plague at Lisbon. The fact that the verses
addressed by Vicente to the Conde de Vimioso inform us that Vicente's
household was down with the plague and his own life in danger (III. 38)
bind these verses to no particular date, the plague being then all too
common a visitation. Indeed General Brito Rebello and Senhor Braamcamp
Freire both attribute this poem to 1518. His complaints of poverty would
thus have begun immediately after his resignation of the lucrative post
of Master of the Mint and before he had received his pensions. 'He who
does not beg receives nothing,' he says, and later on in the same poem
'If hard work and merit spelt success I would have enough to live on and
give and leave in my will' (III. 382-3). The general tone of these
verses is more in accordance with that of his later plays[71], and the
occasion was more probably that in which he composed the _Templo de
Apolo_, written when he was _enfermo de grandes febres_ (II. 371), and
acted in January 1526[72]. In his verses he tells the Conde de Vimioso
that 'I have now in hand a fine farce. I call it _A Ca[c,]a dos
Segredos_. It will make you very gay.' 'I call it'; but the name given
by the author was more than once ousted by a popular title. This implied
popularity of Gil Vicente's plays, acted before the Court and not
published in a collected edition till a quarter of a century after his
death, might seem unaccountable were it not for the fact that some of
his pieces, printed separately, were eagerly read, and that the people
might be present in fairly large numbers when his plays were represented
in church or convent. We know too that plays were acted in private
houses. The publication of Antonio Ribeiro Chiado's _Auto da Natural
Inven[c,]am_ (_c._ 1550) by the Conde de Sabugosa throws much light on
this subject. This _auto_, acted a few years after Vicente's death,
contains the description of the presentation of a play in a private
house at Lisbon. The play was to begin at 10 or 11 p.m., the actors
having to play first at two other private houses. So great is the
interest that not only is the house crowded and its door besieged but
the throng in the street outside is so thick that the players have much
difficulty in forcing their way through it. The owner of the house had
given 10 cruzados for the play[73]. Vicente's _Auto da Festa_ was
similarly acted in a private house. The most interesting of all the
facts recorded by Chiado is the eagerness of the people. Uninvited
persons from the crowd outside kept pressing in at the door. Thus we can
easily understand how the people could give their own name to a play,
fastening on words or incident that especially struck them. The Farce of
the Poor Squire became _Quem tem farelos?_[74], the author's name for
the _Auto da Mofina Mendes_ was _Os Mysterios da Virgem_ (I. 103), the
_Clerigo da Beira_ was also known as the _Auto de Pedreanes_[75].
Therefore when we come upon a new title of a Vicente play unknown to us
we need not conclude that it is a new play.

Of the seven Vicente plays[76] placed on the Portuguese _Index_ of 1551
four are known to us. The _Auto da Vida do Pa[c,]o_ may be identified
with some probability with the _Romagem de Aggravados_[77]. If we may
not identify the _Jubileu de Amores_ with the _Auto da Feira_ its
disappearance must be accounted for by the wrath of the Church of Rome,
which fell upon it when produced at Brussels in 1531[78]. The remaining
play _O Auto da Aderencia do Pa[c,]o_ can scarcely be identified with
the _Auto da Festa_ on the ground that the _vil[~a]o_ says (1906 ed., p.
123):

        Quem quiser ter que comer
        Trabalhe por aderencia:
        Haver['a] quanto quiser.
        Vosoutros que andais no pa[c,]o....

especially as there was scarcely anything for the Censorship to condemn:
merely the mention of the _Priol's_ two sons (p. 111) and the ease with
which the old woman obtains a Bull from the Nuncio (pp. 120, 124). There
is far more reason, 'in my simple conjectures,' for believing that _A
Ca[c,]a dos Segredos_ altered its name before or after it was produced
and became _A farsa chamada Auto da Lusitania_. In the burlesque passage
concerning Gil Vicente in this play (III. 275-6) we learn that he was
instructed for seven years and a day in the Sibyl's cave and informed by
the Sibyl of the secrets which she knew about the past:

        E ali foi ensinado
        Sete anos e mais um dia
        E da Sibila informado
        Dos segredos que sabia
        Do antigo tempo passado.

If the _Trovas ao Conde de Vimioso_ were written in 1525, the seven
years during which Vicente hunted for secrets bring us to 1532, the date
of the _Auto da Lusitania_. The necessary allusions to the birth of the
Prince were inserted, but the play had been ready long before[79].

The _Auto da Festa_ was probably acted in a private house at Evora. It
contains scarcely an indication as to its date[80], but it has passages
similar to others in the _Farsa de Ines Pereira_ (1523), the _Fragoa de
Amor_[81] (1524) and the _Farsa das Ciganas_ (1525?)[82]. That the play
was prior to the _Templo de Apolo_ seems evident, and the author would
be unlikely to copy from what he calls an _obra doliente_ (II. 373) with
Portuguese passages introduced to prop up a play originally written
wholly in Spanish (_ibid._). Nor need the anti-Spanish passages tell
against the year of the betrothal of Charles V and the Infanta Isabel,
for they are placed in the mouth of a _vil[~a]o_ and the play was
performed in private. In the _Templo de Apolo_ the anti-Spanish
atmosphere has not quite vanished, but the _vil[~a]o_ contents himself
with saying that _Deos n[~a]o ['e] castelhano_, and even so Apollo feels
bound to present his excuses:

        Villano ser descort['e]s
        No es mucho de espantar.

_Quem n[~a]o parece esquece_, says Vicente in his _trovas_ to Vimioso.
_Les absents ont tort_. After a quarter of a century he could no longer
describe his _autos_ as a new thing and he was now confronted by the
formidable novelty of the hendecasyllabic metre introduced by S['a] de
Miranda from Italy. He felt that he had his back against the wall[83].
He made a prodigious effort to vary the themes of his plays and to
produce them with increasing frequency. The year 1527 is his _annus
mirabilis_. The _Sumario da Historia de Deos_ and the _Dialogo sobre a
Ressurrei[c,]am_ are assigned, if not to this year, to the period
1526-8[84]. The _Nao de Amores_ celebrated the entry of Queen Catharina
into Lisbon in 1527, and before the autumn[85] three plays, the _Divisa
da Cidade de Coimbra_, the _Farsa dos Almocreves_ and the _Tragicomedia
da Serra da Estrella_, had been presented before the Court at the
charming old town of Coimbra which ten years later definitively became
the University town of Portugal. His great efforts were not unrewarded,
for in the following year he received a yet further pension of 12
milreis. On his way back from Coimbra to Santarem he fell among some
Spanish carriers who took advantage of the new Queen's favour to fleece
the poet, and he wrote some verses of comic complaint to the King (II.
383-4). The rubric assigns to the same year the famous _Auto da Feira_
(Lisbon: Christmas 1527) but Snr Braamcamp Freire[86] points out that
King Jo[~a]o did not spend Christmas of this year at Lisbon and assigns
it to 1528, the year in which the celebrated Dialogues of Alfonso and
Juan de Vald['e]s saw the light. In April 1529 the _Triunfo do Inverno_
celebrated the birth of the Infanta Isabel. The author introduced the
play in a long lament in verse over the forgotten jollity of earlier
times and then, to show that his own hand had lost none of its cunning,
he gave his audience a feast of lyrical passages in the Triumphs of
Winter and Spring.

In 1527 Vicente seems clearly to have aimed his allusions to the sons of
priests at Francisco de S['a] de Miranda, whose father was a priest and
who was born at Coimbra. And now in _O Clerigo da Beira_[87] we have a
priest addressing his son Francisco and telling him that a priest's son
will never come to any good. On his part the grave S['a] de Miranda had
protested against the introduction of scenes from the Bible into the
_farsas_: the allusion to Vicente was clear although his treatment of
such scenes was usually reverent. Vicente still had the ear of the Court
and S['a] de Miranda could only lament that the new style had at first
so little vogue in Portugal. That the King, when he had leisure,
consulted Vicente on weightier matters than the production of Court
plays is proved by a passage[88] in the letter addressed to him by the
poet from Santarem. A terrible earthquake shock on Jan. 26, 1531,
followed by other severe shocks, kept the people in a panic for fifty
days. _Terruerant satis haec pavidam praesagia plebem_, and to make
matters worse the monks of Santarem, with an eye on the new Christians,
spoke of the wrath of God and announced another earthquake as calmly as
if they were giving out the hour of evensong. Vicente, who in his letter
to the King[89] says, like Newman's Gerontius, 'I am near to death,'
assembled the monks and preached them an eloquent sermon. The prestige
of the Court poet restrained their zeal and probably avoided another
massacre such as he had seen at Lisbon a quarter of a century before. It
was in December of this year that the _Jubileu de Amores_ was acted in
the house of the Portuguese Ambassador at Brussels, to the horror of
Cardinal Aleandro, who almost persuaded himself that he was witnessing
the sack of Rome four years earlier. It was perhaps before this that
King Jo[~a]o commanded Vicente to publish his works, but he could not be
greatly perturbed that a play by Vicente had given offence to the Holy
See, with which he was himself often in unpleasant relations at this
time. At all events Vicente continued to produce his plays. In 1532 the
birth of the long desired heir to the throne was celebrated at Lisbon,
and Vicente presented the _Auto da Lusitania_, while two long plays, the
_Romagem de Aggravados_ and _Amadis de Gaula_, belong to the following
year. The former was acted at Evora in honour of the birth of the
Infante Felipe (May 1533). _Amadis de Gaula_ perhaps shows some signs of
weariness, and if he played the part of Amadis he would apply to himself
the lines

        Que ya veis que soy pasado
        A la vida de los muertos (II. 282).

The _Auto da Cananea_ was written at the request of the Abbess of
Oudivellas and acted at that convent near Lisbon in 1534. It contains
perhaps a reference to the earthquake of 1531 (I. 373). The _Auto da
Mofina Mendes_ may have been written some years before it was acted in
the presence of the King at Evora on Christmas morning 1534: it alludes
to the capture of Francis I at Pavia (1525) and to the sack of Rome
(1527). Vicente had returned to Evora at least as early as August 1535,
and in 1536 he produced there before the King his last play, the
_Floresta de Enganos_, which may well have been a collection of farcical
scenes written at various periods of his career[90]. We know that he was
dead on April 16, 1540. He did not follow the Court to Lisbon in August
1537 and his death may be assigned with some plausibility to the end of
1536 at Evora[91]. The children of his second marriage were almost
certainly with him, Paula and Luis, who edited his works in 1562 and
were now still in their teens, and the even younger Valeria. Paula seems
to have inherited her father's versatility and his musical, dramatic and
literary tastes. Tradition connects her closely with him and would even
assign her a part in the composition of his plays. Another and a more
reliable tradition says that he was buried in the Church of S. Francisco
at Evora. His life had been full and strenuous and we leave him in this
quiet little town _depois da vida cansada descansando_[92].


II. CHARACTER AND IDEAS

If we were limited to the information about Gil Vicente furnished by his
contemporaries, we should but know that he had introduced into Portugal
_representa[c,][~o]es_ of eloquent style and novel invention imitating
Enzina's eclogues with great skill and wit[93], and that the mordant
comic poet Gil Vicente, who hid a serious aim beneath his gaiety and was
skilled in veiling his satire in light-hearted jests, might have
excelled Menander, Plautus and Terence if he had written in Latin
instead of in the vulgar tongue[94]. That is, we should have known
nothing that we could not learn from his plays and it is to his plays
that we must go if we would be more closely acquainted with his
character and his attitude towards the problems of his day. King Manuel,
says Dami[~a]o de Goes, always kept at his Court Spanish buffoons as a
corrective of the manners and habits of the courtiers[95]. The King may
have had something of the sort in his mind in encouraging Gil Vicente,
and probably he especially favoured his allusions to the courtiers; but
we cannot for a moment consider that Vicente, friend and adviser of King
Jo[~a]o III, the grave town-councillor whose influence could check the
fanaticism of the monks at Santarem--can we imagine them bowing before a
mere mountebank, a strolling player?--was looked upon simply as a Court
jester. The impression left by his plays is, rather, that of the worthy
thoughtful face of Velazquez as painted in his _Las Meninas_ picture, a
figure closely familiar with the Court yet still somewhat aloof,
_apartado_. like Gil Terron. Vicente regards himself as a _rustico
peregrino_ (III. 390), an _ignorante sabedor_ (I. 373) as opposed to the
ignorant-malicious or ignorant-presumptuous of the Court. But Vicente
was no ascetic, his was a genial, generous nature, he liked to have
enough to spend and give and leave in his will. Kindly and chivalrous,
he was a champion of the down-trodden but had first-hand knowledge of
the malice and intrigues of the peasants and of the poor in the towns.
Above all he was thoroughly Portuguese. He might place his scene in
Crete but in that very scene he would refer to things so Portuguese as
the _janeiras_ and _lampas de S. Jo[~a]o_. Portugal is

        Pequeno e muy grandioso,
        Pouca gente e muito feito,
        Forte e mui victorioso,
        Mui ousado e furioso
        Em tudo o que toma a peito,

and he appears to have shared the popular prejudice against Spain. Did
he also share the people's hostility towards the priests and the Jews?
It cannot be said that the priests presented in his plays are patterns
of morality. As to the Jews he knows of their corrupt practices and
describes them in a late play as _a mais falsa ral['e]_[96]. It was
during the last ten years of Vicente's life that the question of the new
Christians came especially to the front (from 1525). In earlier plays
Vicente seems more sympathetic towards them and the pleasant sketch of
the Jewish family in Lisbon is as late as 1532[97]. In 1506, the very
year of the massacre of Jews at Lisbon, he had gone to the root of the
question when he declared in his lay sermon that:

        Es por dem['a]s pedir al jud['i]o
        Que sea cristiano en el coraz['o]n ...
        Que es por dem['a]s al que es mal cristiano
        Doctrina de Cristo por fuerza ni ruego[98].

And twenty-five years later he said to the monks at Santarem: 'If there
are some here who are still strangers to our faith it is perhaps for the
greater glory of God[99].' That is to say: if you force the Jews to
become Christians you will only make them hypocrites; far better to
treat them frankly as Jews and not expect figs from thistles. That
Vicente himself was a devout Christian and Catholic and a deeply
religious man such plays as the _Auto da Alma_, the _Barcas_, the
_Sumario_, the _Auto da Cananea_ are sufficient proof. He had much of
the Erasmian spirit but nothing in common with the Reformation. His
irreverence is wholly external, it was abuses not doctrine that he
attacked, the ministers of the Church and not the Church itself. He may
have been in the secret of King Jo[~a]o's somewhat stormy negotiations
with the Holy See and he took the national and regalist view: in the
_Auto da Feira_ Mercury addresses Rome as follows:

        Nam culpes aos reis da terra,
        Que tudo te vem de cima (I. 166).

He wished to reform the Church from within. All are perversely asleep, a
sleep of death[100]. Many prayers do not suffice without _almas limpas e
puras_[101]. Men must be judged by their works[102]. In the _Auto da
F['e]_ (1510) we have a simple declaration of faith:

        F['e] he amar a Deos s['o] por elle
        Quanto se pode amar,
        Por ser elle singular,
        Nam por interesse delle;
        E se mais quereis saber,
        Crer na Madre Igreja Santa
        E cantar o que ella canta
        E querer o que ella quer[103].

But four years earlier and ten before Luther's formal protest against
the papal indulgences we find Vicente in his lay sermon referring to the
question 'whether the Pope may grant so many pardons' and laughing at
the hair-splitting of preachers: was the fruit that Eve ate an apple, a
pear or a melon[104]? His own religion certainly had a mystical and
pantheistic tendency[105]. It was as deep as was his love of Nature. He
would have the hearts of men dance with jocund May[106]:

        Hei de cantar e folgar
        E bailar c'os cora[c,][~o]es,

and he had an eye for the humblest flower that blows--chicory and
camomile, hedge flowerets, honeysuckle and wild roses:

        Almeirones y magarzas,
        Florecitas por las zarzas,
        Madresilvas y rosillas (I. 95. Cf. II. 29).

And he sympathized closely with what was nearest to Nature: peasants and
children. Of the people of the towns he was probably less enamoured and
he speaks of _a desvairada opini[~a]o do vulgo_ and of the folly of
pandering to it[107]. At Court he certainly had many friends. A friendly
rivalry in art and letters bound him to Garcia de Resende for probably
over forty years and he was no doubt on excellent terms with the
_dadivoso_ Conde de Penella (II. 511), the _muito jucundo_ Conde de
Tentugal (III. 360) and the Conde de Vimioso. High rank was no certain
shelter from the shafts of Vicente's wit, but when it was a case of
princes he was more careful:

        Agora cumpre atentar
        Como poemos as m[~a]os,

as he ingenuously remarks[108]. King Jo[~a]o II had seen to it that no
class or individual should dispute the power of the throne, and now the
King reigned supreme. Kings, says Vicente, are the image of God[109].
That was in 1533, when it might seem to him that the authority of the
throne was more than ever necessary to cope with the confusion of the
times. The King's power stood for the nation, that of a noble might mean
mere private ambition or power in the hands of one unworthy, and Gil
Vicente asks nobly:

        Quem n[~a]o ['e] senhor de si
        Porqu['e] o ser['a] de ninguem?
        (Who himself cannot control
        Why should he o'er others rule?)

He had witnessed many changes, and looking back as an old man his memory
might well be overwhelmed by a period so crowded[110]. He had seen the
provinces and capital of Portugal transformed by the overseas
discoveries. We may be sure that he had watched with more interest than
the ordinary _lisboeta_ the extension of the Portuguese empire and the
deeds of the unfortunate Dom Francisco de Almeida ('Tomou Quiloa e
Momba[c,]a, Parece cousa de gra[c,]a Ver de que morte acabou') and the
redoubtable Afonso de Albuquerque, who snatched victories from defeat in
the teeth of all manner of obstruction and indifference and placed
Portugal's glory on a pinnacle scarcely dreamed of even in the
intoxicating moment of Gama's first return to Belem in 1499:

        Outro mundo encuberto
        Vimos ent[~a]o descubrir
        Que se tinha por incerto:
        Pasma homem de ouvir.

Meanwhile Vicente never lost sight of the fact that the nation's
strength lay not in rich imports, however fabulous and envied, but in
the good use of its own soil and capacities and in the vigour, energy
and discipline of its inhabitants, and a note of warning sounded again
and again in his plays as he saw the old simplicity sink and disappear
before wave on wave of luxury, ambition and hollow display. He had felt
the good old times, content with rustic dance and song, vanishing since
1510:

        De vinte annos a ca
        N[~a]o ha hi gaita nem gaiteiro[111].

Now no one is content: _ninguem se contenta da maneira que sohia_[112].
_Tudo bem se vai ao fundo_[113]. He especially deplored the new
confusion between the classes[114]. Shepherd, page and priest all wish
to serve the King, that is, to become an official and to idle for a
fixed wage while the land remained unploughed. The peasants do not know
what they want and _murmuram sem entender_[115]. There is slackness
everywhere (_todos somos negligentes_)[116]. Portugal was suffering from
a crisis similar to that of four centuries later and men were inclined
to leave their professions in order to theorize or in the hope of
growing rich by a short cut or by chance instead of by hard, steady
work; and the result was a period of upheaval and disquiet. Vicente
suffered like the rest. He had embodied in his plays the simple pastimes
of the Portuguese people, their delight in the processions, services and
dramatic displays of the Church, in the mimicry of the early
_arremedillos_, in the rich fancy-dress _momos_ which were an essential
element at great festivities. But his drama was not classical, often it
was not drama. Technically he is less dramatic than Lucas Fern['a]ndez
or Torres Naharro. He defied every rule of Aristotle and mingled
together the grave and gay, coarse and courtly in a way faithful to life
rather than to any accepted theories of the stage. While he continued to
produce these natural and delightful plays all kinds of new conditions
arose. It was the irony of circumstance that when the old Portuguese
poetry held the field the taste of the Court for personal satire and
magnificent show could scarcely appreciate at its true value the lyrical
gift of Vicente; and later, after King Manuel's death, Vicente found
himself confronted by a new school in which classicism carried the day,
the long Italian metres superseded the merry native _redondilha_ of
eight syllables, and the latinisers began to transform the language and
shuddered like _femmes savantes_ at Vicente's barbarisms and uncouth
_voquibles_. His attitude towards his critics was one of humility and
good humour. It is at least good to know that Vicente with his
_redondilhas_ continued to triumph personally in his old age and it was
only the hand of death that drove him from the scene. Nor did he cease
to point out abuses: the increase of _a falsa mentira_, the corruption
of justice[117], the greed for money[118] and the growth of luxury[119].
He pillories the ignorance of pilots[120] by which so many ships were
lost now and later, and he seems to doubt the wisdom of keeping women
shut up like nuns both before[121] and after[122] marriage. If in many
respects Vicente belonged to the Middle Ages, in his curiosity and
many-sidedness he was a true child of the Renaissance. He dabbled in
astrology and witchcraft, loved music (he wrote tunes for some of his
lyrics), poetry, reading, acting and the goldsmith's art, and maintained
his zest in old age: _Mofina Mendes_ was probably written when he was
over sixty. Attempts to represent him as a Lutheran reformer, a deep
philosopher or an authority in questions philological fall to the
ground. He was a jovial poet and a keen observer who loved his country,
and when he saw its inhabitants all at sixes and sevens he would
willingly have brought them back to what he called _a boa diligencia_.


III. TYPES SKETCHED IN HIS PLAYS

In Vicente's notes and sketches of the Portugal of his day we may see
the master hand of the goldsmith accustomed to set jewels. His
miniatures are so distinct and the types described are so various that
had we no other record of the first third of the sixteenth century in
Portugal we might form a very fair and singularly vivid estimate from
his plays. With a comic poet we have, of course, to be on our guard.
When Vicente introduces the _lavrador_ who steals his neighbour's land,
is he drawing from life or from Berceo's _mal labrador_ or from the
_Danza de la Muerte_ (_fasiendo furto en la tierra agena_) or from the
Bible: 'Cursed be he that removeth his neighbour's landmark'? When he
presents the poverty-stricken nobleman, the dissipated priest, rustics
from Beira, or negro slaves, for how much does the conventional satire
of the day stand in these portraits and how much is drawn from Nature?
Are they merely literary types? It is obvious that these themes were a
great resource for the satirists of that time but their value to the
satirist lay in their truth. The sad existence of the poor gentleman and
the splendour maintained by penniless nobles are all too well attested.
As to the priests, when we find King Manuel joining with King Ferdinand
of Spain in a protest to the Pope to the effect that the whole of
Christendom was scandalized by the dissolute life of the clergy and by
the traffic in Bulls[123], and grave ecclesiastics in Spain and friends
of grave ecclesiastics, like Franco Sacchetti[124] earlier in Italy,
using language even more violent than that of Vicente, we need not doubt
the truth of his sketches. He was perhaps more vivid than the other
critics and his satire penetrated deeply for the very reason that he was
a realist. There was no doubt some professional exaggeration in the
language of his _beir[~a]o_ rustics, but his sympathy with the peasants
and his wide knowledge of the province of Beira prove that his object
was not merely mockery: _zombar da gente da Beira_[125]. Many of his
types are foreshadowed in the _Cancioneiro Geral_, and especially in the
_Arrenegos_ of Gregorio Afonso, of the household of the Bishop of Evora:
the 'priest who lives like a layman,' 'the gentleman who has not enough
to eat,' 'the man of great estate and small income,' the _preciosos_,
the _borrachas_, the _fantasticos_, the _alcouviteira_, 'the peasants
placed in a position of importance.' In developing these figures Vicente
was always careful to keep close to Nature. Each speaks in his own
language, 'the negro as a negro, the old man as an old man.' This is
carried to such a length that the Spanish Queen in the lament on the
death of King Manuel is made to speak her few lines in Spanish, the rest
of the poem being in Portuguese[126].

Vicente is not an easy writer because his styles are so many and his
allusions so local. But we must be infinitely grateful to him for the
way in which he portrays a type in a few lines and for the fact that
although they are types they are evidently taken from individuals whom
he had observed and who continue to live for us in his pages. His
gallery of priests is for all time. Frei Pa[c,]o comes, with his velvet
cap and gilt sword, 'mincing like a very sweet courtier'; Frei Narciso
starves and studies, tinging his complexion to an artificial yellow in
the hope that his hypocritical asceticism may win him a bishopric; the
worldly courtier monk fences and sings and woos; the Lisbon priest, like
his confessor one of Love's train, fares well on rabbits and sausages
and good red wine, even as the portly pleasure-loving Lisbon canons; the
country priest resembles a kite pouncing on chickens; the ambitious
chaplain accepts the most menial tasks, compared with whom the sporting
priest of Beira is at least pleasantly independent; and there are the
luxurious hermit, the dissipated village priest who never prayed the
hours, the inconstant monk who had been carrier and carpenter and now
wishes to be unfrocked in order to join more freely in dance and
pilgrimage, the mad friar Frei Martinho persecuted by dogs and Lisbon
_gamins_, the ambitious preacher who glosses over men's sins. If the
priests fared well in this life the satirists were determined that they
should not be equally fortunate after their death. Vicente's proud
Bishop is to be boiled and roasted, the grasping Archbishop is left
perpetually aboiling, the ambitious Cardinal is to be devoured by dogs
and dragons in a den of lions, while the sensual and simoniacal Pope is
to have his flesh torn with red-hot iron. And we have--although here
Vicente discreetly went to the _Danza de la Muerte_ for his satire--the
vainglorious and tyrannical Emperor, the Duke who had adored himself and
the King who had allowed himself to be adored. There are the careless
hedonistic Count more given to love than to charity or churchgoing, the
_fidalgo de ra[c,]a_, the haughty _fidalgo de solar_ with a page to
carry his chair, the judge who through his wife accepts bribes from the
Jews, the rhetorical goldsmith, the usurer (_onzeneiro_) with his heart
in his _cassette_ (_arca_)[127]. There too the pert servant-girl, the
gossiping maidservant, the witch busy at night over a hanged man at the
cross-roads, the faithless wife of the India-bound _lisboeta_, the
Lisbon old woman copious in malediction, her genteel daughter Isabel,
the wife who in her husband's absence only leaves her house to go to
church or pilgrimage, the _mal maridada_ imprisoned by her husband, the
peasant bride singing and dancing in skirt of scarlet, the woman
superstitiously devout, the _beata alcouviteira_ who would not have
escaped the Inquisition had she been printed like Aulegrafia in the
seventeenth century, lisping gypsies, the _alcouviteiras_ Anna and
Branca and Brigida, the _curandera_ with her quack remedies, the poor
farmer's daughter brought to be a Court lady and still stained from the
winepress, the old woman desirous of a young husband, the slattern
Catherina Meigengra, the market-woman who plays the _pandero_ in the
market-place, the peasant girls with pretentious names coming down to
market basket on head from the hills, the shrew Branca and the timid
wife Marta, the two irrepressible Lisbon fishwives, the voluble _saloia_
who sells milk well watered and charges cruel prices for her eggs and
other wares, the country priest's greedy 'wife' who eats the baptism
cake and is continually roasting chestnuts, the mystical ingenuous
little shepherdess Margarida who sees visions on the hills, the superior
daughter of the peasant judge who had once spoken to the King, the small
Beira girl keeping ducks, Ledi[c,]a the affectedly ingenuous daughter of
the Jewish tailor, Cezilia of Beira possessed by a familiar spirit.

Or, again, we have the ceremonious Lisbon lover Lemos, the high-flown
Castilian of fearful presence and a lion's heart, however threadbare his
_capa_[128], the starving gentleman who makes a _tost[~a]o_ (= _5d._)
last a month and dines off a turnip and a crust of bread, another--a
sixteenth century Porthos--who imagines himself a _grand seigneur_ and
has not a sixpence to his name but hires a showy suit of clothes to go
to the palace, another who is an intimate at Court (_o mesmo pa[c,]o_)
but who to satisfy a passing passion has to sell boots and viola and
pawn his saddle, the poor gentleman's servant (_mo[c,]o_) who sleeps on
a chest, or is rudely awakened at midnight to light the lamp and hold
the inkpot while his master writes down his latest inspiration in his
song-book, the incompetent Lisbon doctors with their stereotyped
formulas, the frivolous persons who are bored by three prayers at church
but spend nights and days listening to _novellas_, the _parvo_,
predecessor of the Spanish _gracioso_, the Lisbon courtier descended
from Aeneas, the astronomer, unpractical in daily life as he gazes on
the stars, the old man amorous, rose in buttonhole, playing on a viola,
the Jewish marriage-brokers, the country bumpkin, the lazy peasant lying
by the fire, the poor but happy gardener and his wife, the quarrelsome
blacksmith with his wife the bakeress, the carriers jingling along the
road and amply acquainted with the wayside inns, the aspiring
_vil[~a]o_, the peasant who complains bitterly of the ways of God, the
_lavrador_ with his plough who did not forget his prayers and was
charitable to tramps but skimped his tithes, the illiterate but not
unmalicious _beir[~a]o_ shepherd who had led a hard life and whose chief
offence was to have stolen grapes from time to time, the devout
bootmaker who had industriously robbed the people during thirty years,
the card-player blasphemous as the _taful_ of King Alfonso's _Cantigas
de Santa Maria_, the delinquent from Lisbon's prison (the _Limoeiro_)
whom his confessor had deceived before his hanging with promises of
Paradise, the peasant _O Moreno_ who knows the dances of Beira, the
negro chattering in his pigeon-Portuguese 'like a red mullet in a
fig-tree,' the deceitful negro expressing the strangest philosophy in
Portuguese equally strange, the rustic clown Gon[c,]alo with his baskets
of fruit and capons, who when his hare is stolen turns it like a canny
peasant to a kind of posthumous account: _leve-a por amor de Deos pola
alma de meus finados_, the Jew Alonso Lopez who had formerly been
prosperous in Spain but is now a poor new Christian cobbler at Lisbon,
the Jewish tailor who in the streets gives himself _fidalgo_ airs and is
overjoyed at the regard shown him by officials and who at home sings
songs of battle as he sits at his work[129].

In the actions and conversation of this motley crowd of persons high and
low we are given many a glimpse of the times: the beflagged ship from
India lying in the Tagus, the modest dinner (_a panela cosida_) of the
rich _lavrador_, the supper of bread and wine, shellfish and cherries
bought in Lisbon's celebrated Ribeira market, the Lisbon Jew's dinner of
kid and cucumber, the distaff bought by the shepherd at Santarem as a
present for his love, the rustic gifts of acorns, bread and bacon, the
shepherdess' simple dowry or the more considerable dowry of a girl
somewhat higher in society (consisting of a loom, a donkey, an orchard,
a mill and a mule), the migratory shepherds' ass, laden with the
milk-jugs and bells, and with a leathern wallet, yokes and shackles, the
sheepskin coats of the shepherds, bristling masks for their dogs (as a
defence against wolves), loaves of bread, onions and garlic. Thus in
town and village, palace and attic, house and street, on road and
mountain and sea the Portugal of the early sixteenth century is clearly
and charmingly conveyed to us, and we can realize better the conditions
of Gil Vicente's life at Court or as he journeyed on muleback to Evora
or Coimbra, Thomar or Santarem or Almeirim.


IV. ORIGINALITY AND INFLUENCE

In 1523 the 'men of good learning' doubted Vicente's originality. They
might point to the imitations of Enzina or to the resemblance between
the trilogy of _Barcas_ and the _Danza de la Muerte_ or they might
reveal the origin of many a verse and phrase used by Vicente in his
plays and already familiar in the song-books of Spain and Portugal.
Vicente could well afford to let his critics strain at these gnats. He
had the larger originality of genius and while realizing that 'there is
nothing new under the sun[130]' he could transform all his borrowings
into definite images or lyrical magic. (There are flashes of poetry even
in the absurd _ensalada_ of III. 323-4.) He was the greatest lyrical
poet of his day and, in a strictly limited sense, the greatest
dramatist. He is Portugal's only dramatist, without forerunners or
successors, for the playwrights of the Vicentian school lacked his
genius and only attain some measure of success when they closely copy
their master, while the classical school produced no great drama in
Portugal: it is impossible to except even Antonio Ferreira's _Ines de
Castro_ from this sweeping assertion. But that is not to say that
Vicente stands entirely isolated, self-sufficing and self-contained.
Genius is never self-sufficing. Talent may live apart in an ivory palace
but genius overflows in many relations, is acted on and reacts and has
the generosity to receive as well as to give. The influences that acted
upon Gil Vicente were numerous: the Middle Ages and the humanism of the
first days of the Renaissance, the old national Portugal with its
popular traditions and the new imperial Portugal of the first third of
the sixteenth century, the Bible and the _Cancioneiro de Resende_, the
whole literature of Spain and Portugal, the services of the Church, the
book of Nature. But before examining how these influences work out in
his plays it may be well to consider whether their sources may be yet
further extended.

Court relations between Portugal and France had never entirely ceased
and the 1516 _Cancioneiro_ contains many allusions to the prevailing
familiarity with things French. But Vicente's genius was not inspired by
the Court: it would be truer to say that, while he was encouraged by
Queen Lianor and the King, the Court's taste for new things, superficial
fashions and personal allusions tended to thwart his genius. When he
introduces a French song in his plays this does not imply any intimate
acquaintance with the lyrical poetry of France but rather deference to
the taste of the Court. He would pick up words of foreign languages with
the same quickness with which he initiated himself into the way of witch
or pilot, fishwife or doctor, but we have an excellent proof that his
knowledge of neither French nor Italian was profound. We know how
consistently he makes his characters speak each in his own language. Yet
in the _Auto da Fama_, whereas the Spaniard speaks Spanish only, the
Frenchman and Italian murder their own language and eke it out with
Portuguese[131]. Vicente read what he could find to read, but we may be
sure that his reading was mainly confined to Portuguese and Spanish. The
very words in his letter to King Jo[~a]o III in which he speaks of his
reading are another echo of Enzina[132], and although it cannot be
asserted that he was not acquainted with this or that piece of French
literature and with the early French drama, it may be maintained that
whatever influence France exercised upon him came mainly through Spain,
whether the connecting link is extant, as in the case of the _Danza de
la Muerte_, or lost, as in that of the _Sumario da Historia de Deos_.
Probably Vicente knew of French _myst[`e]res_ little more than the
name[133]. As to the literature of Greece, Rome and Italy the conclusion
is even more definite. Vicente had not read Plautus or Terence, his
knowledge of _el gran poeta Virgilio_ (III. 104) does not extend beyond
the quotation _omnia vincit amor_. Aristotle is a name _et praeterea
nihil_. With the classical tragedy of Trissino and others he had nothing
in common, and if he lived to read or see S['a] de Miranda's _Cleopatra_
he probably had his own very marked opinion as to its value. Dante was,
of course, a closed book to him as to most of his contemporaries. With
Spanish literature the case is very different. The fourteenth and
fifteenth centuries were the most Spanish period of Portuguese
literature. The _Cancioneiro de Resende_ is nearly as Spanish as it is
Portuguese. Portuguese poets were, almost without exception, bilingual.
The horsemen stationed to bring the news of the wedding from Seville to
Evora in 1490 were emblematic of the close relations between the two
countries. Men were in continual expectation that they would come to
form one kingdom[134]. King Manuel's infant son was heir to Spain and
Portugal and the empires in Africa and America.

Vicente's close acquaintance with Spanish literature shows itself at
every turn, and if we examine his plays we find but slight traces of the
influence of any other literature. His first pieces were written in
Spanish, and the Spanish is that of Enzina. Lines and phrases are taken
bodily from the Spanish poet and words belonging to the conventional
_sayagu['e]s_ (in which there was already a Portuguese element: cf.
_ollos_ for _ojos_) placed on the lips of _charros_ by Enzina are
transferred from Salamanca to Beira. The Enzina eclogues imitated by
Vicente were based on those of Virgil, but in Vicente's imitation there
is no vestige of any knowledge of the classics. The only Latin that
occurs is the quotation by Gil Terron of three lines from the Bible. A
little later the hungry _escudero_ of _Quem tem farelos?_ was in all
probability derived from Spanish literature, either from the Archpriest
of Hita's _Libro de Buen Amor_ or from some popular sketch such as that
contained later in _Lazarillo de Tormes_ (1554)[135]. The only French
element in the _Auto da F['e]_ is the _fatrasie_ or _enselada_ 'which
came from France,' but its text is not given. The classical allusions to
Virgil and the Judgment of Paris in the _Auto das Fadas_ are perfectly
superficial. A little medical Latin is introduced in the _Farsa dos
Fisicos_. _O Velho da Horta_, which opens with the Lord's Prayer, half
in Latin, half in Portuguese[136], is written in Portuguese with the
exception of the fragment of song and the lyric _[?]Cual es la ni[~n]a?_
There is a reference to Macias, a name which had become a commonplace in
Portuguese poetry as the type of the constant lover. Spanish influence
is shown in the introduction of the _alcouviteira_ Branca Gil, probably
suggested by Juan Ruiz' _trotaconventos_ or by Celestina. The
_Exhorta[c,][~a]o da Guerra_ begins with humorous platitudes,
_perogrulladas_, after the fashion of Enzina. Gil Terron has increased
his classical lore, and Trojan and Greek heroes are brought from the
underworld, the _dramatis personae_ including Polyxena, Penthesilea,
Achilles, Hannibal, Hector and Scipio. The influence of Enzina is still
evident in the _Auto da Sibila Cassandra_, the _bell['i]ssimo auto_
wherein Men['e]ndez y Pelayo saw the first germ of the symbolical
_autos_ in which Calder['o]n excelled[137], and in the _Auto dos Quatro
Tempos_. The immediate influence on the _Barcas_ is plainly Spanish,
this being especially marked in the _Barca da Gloria_. When the _Diabo_
addresses the King:

        Nunca aca senti
        Que aprovechase aderencia
        Ni lisonjas, crer mentiras
        ... Ni diamanes ni zafiras (I. 285)

he is copying the words of Death in the _Danza de la Muerte_:

                         non es tiempo tal
    Que librar vos pueda imperio nin gente
    Oro nin plata nin otro metal[138].


Vicente's Devil taxes the Archbishop with fleecing the poor (I. 294) in
much the same words as those of the Spanish Death to the Dean (t. 2, p.
12). The Devil in the _Barca do Purgatorio_ (I. 251) and Death (t. 2, p.
17) both reproach the _labrador_ with the same offence: surreptitiously
extending the boundaries of his land. It must be admitted that these
signs of imitation are more direct than the French traces indicated in
the introduction of the 1834 edition of Vicente's works. The whole
treatment of the _Barcas_ closely follows the _Danza de la Muerte_. The
idea of a satirical review of the dead is of course nearly as old as
literature. In the _Barca da Gloria_ Vicente begins to quote Spanish
_romances_[139], and this is continued on a larger scale in the _Comedia
de Rubena_ (cf. also the Spanish songs in the _Cortes de Jupiter_) and
in _Dom Duardos_, in which reference is also made to two Spanish books,
Diego de San Pedro's _Carcel de Amor_ and Hernando Diaz' translation _El
Pelegrino Amador_[140]. Maria Parda's will was probably suggested rather
by such burlesque testaments as that of the dying mule in the
_Cancioneiro de Resende_ than by the _Testament de Pathelin_. The
criticism of the _homens de bom saber_ seems to have turned Vicente to
more peculiarly Portuguese themes in the _Farsa de Ines Pereira_ and the
_Auto Pastoril Portugues_, and in the _Fragoa de Amor_, written for the
new Queen from Spain, he presents national types: _serranas_, pilgrims,
nigger, monk, idiot. In the _Ciganas_ we have a passing reference to
'the white hands of Iseult,' a lady already well known in Spanish and
Portuguese literature. _Dom Duardos_ is of course based entirely on a
Spanish romance of chivalry. In _O Juiz da Beira_ he returns to the
_escudeiro_ and _alcouviteira_; the figures are, however, thoroughly
Portuguese with the exception of a new Christian from Castille. The
title of the _Nao de Amores_ already existed in Spanish literature[141].
After this we have a group of thoroughly Portuguese plays, those
presented at Coimbra, the anticlerical _Auto da Feira_, the _Triunfo do
Inverno_, _O Clerigo da Beira_. It is not till _Amadis de Gaula_ that
Vicente again has recourse to Spanish literature[142], and we may be
sure that if he had known of a Portuguese text he would have written his
drama in Portuguese.

Although Vicente owed much to Spanish literature we have only to compare
his plays with those of Juan del Enzina or Bartolom['e] de Torres
Naharro, or his first attempts with his later dramas to realize his
genius and originality. The variety of his plays is very striking and
the farce _Quem tem farelos?_ (1508?), the patriotic _Exhorta[c,][~a]o_
(1513), the _Barca_ trilogy (1517-9), the religious _Auto da Alma_
(1518), the three-act _Comedia de Rubena_ (1521), the character comedy
_Farsa de Ines Pereira_ (1523), the idyllic _Dom Duardos_ (1525?) mark
new departures in the development of his genius. No doubt his plays are
'totally unlike any regular plays and rude both in design and
execution[143].' Vicente divided them into religious plays (_obras de
deva[c,]am_), farces, comedies and tragicomedies, but the kinds overlap
and there is nothing to separate some of the comedies and tragicomedies
from the farces, while some of the farces are religious both in subject
and occasion. How artificial the division was may be seen from the
rubric to the _Barca do Inferno_, which informs us that the play is
counted among the religious plays because the second and third parts
(_Barca do Purgatorio_ and _Barca da Gloria_) were represented in the
Royal Chapel, although this first part was given in the Queen's chamber,
as though the subject and treatment of the three plays were not
sufficient to class them together. Again, the rubric of the _Romagem de
Aggravados_ runs: 'The following tragicomedy is a satire.' Really only
its length separates it from the early farces. Vicente's plays were a
development of the earlier Christmas, Holy Week and Easter
_representaciones_, religious shows to which special pomp was given at
King Manuel's Court. When he began to write the classical drama was
unknown and it is absurd to judge his work by the Aristotelean theory of
the unities of time and place. His idea of drama was not dramatic action
nor the development of character but realistic portrayal of types and
the contrast between them. His first piece, _Auto da Visita[c,]am_, has
not even dialogue--its alternative title is _O Monologo do
Vaqueiro_--and for comic element it relies on the contrast between Court
and country as shown by the herdsman's gaping wonder. The _Auto Pastoril
Castelhano_ contains six shepherds and contrasts the serious mystical
Gil with his ruder companions.

The action of the _Auto dos Reis Magos_ is as simple as that of the two
preceding plays. _Quem tem farelos?_ however is a quite new development.
'The argument,' says the rubric, 'is that a young squire called Aires
Rosado played the viola and although his salary [as one of the Court]
was very small he was continually in love.' He is contrasted with
another penniless _escudeiro_ who gives himself martial airs and
willingly speaks of the heroic deeds of Roncesvalles, but runs away if
two cats begin to fight. Only five persons appear on the stage, but with
considerable skill Vicente enlarges the scene so as to include a vivid
picture of the second squire as described by his servant as well as the
barking of dogs, mewing of cats and crowing of cocks and the
conversation of Isabel with Rosado, which is conjectured from his
answers. No doubt the two _mo[c,]os_ owe something to Sempronio and
Parmeno of the _Celestina_, but this first farce is thoroughly
Portuguese and gives us a concrete and living picture of Lisbon manners.
Not all the farces have this unity. The _Auto das Fadas_ loses itself in
a long series of verses addressed to the Court. The _Farsa dos Fisicos_
has no such extraneous matter: it confines itself to the lovelorn priest
and the contrast between the four doctors. The _Comedia do Viuvo_ is not
a farce and only a comedy by virtue of its happy ending. A merchant of
Burgos laments the death of his wife and is comforted by a kindly priest
and by a friend who wishes that his own wife were as the merchant's (the
simple mediaeval contrast common in Vicente). Meanwhile Don Rosvel,
Prince of Huxonia, has fallen in love with both the daughters of the
merchant, whom he agrees to serve in all kinds of manual labour as Juan
de las Brozas. His brother, Don Gilberto, arrives in search of him and a
quaintly charming and technically skilful play ends with a double
wedding (the Crown Prince of Portugal, present at the acting of this
play, had to decide for Don Rosvel which daughter he should marry).

The _Auto da Fama_ is Vicente's second great hymn to the glory of
Portugal. Portuguese Fame, in the person of a humble girl of Beira, is
envied and wooed in vain by Castille, France and Italy--England and
Holland were then scarcely in the running--and narrates in ringing
verses the deeds of the Portuguese in the East, without, however,
mentioning the great name of Albuquerque, a name which inspired many of
the courtiers with more fear than affection. The _Auto dos Quatro
Tempos_ is a pastoral-religious play, the main theme being, as its title
indicates, a contrast between the four seasons. David appears as a
shepherd and Jupiter also takes a considerable part in the conversation.
Action there is none.

Vicente's satirical vein found excellent occasion in the ancient theme
of scrutinizing the past lives of men as Death reaps them, high and low,
but his profoundly religious temperament raises the _Barcas_ into an
atmosphere of sublime if gloomy splendour, which is surpassed in the
_Auto da Alma_, the most perfect and consistent of his religious
plays--even the symbolical character of the latter part can hardly be
called a defect. In the _Comedia de Rubena_ the development of Vicente's
art is perhaps more superficial than real. It is divided into three long
scenes or acts and is thus more like a regular comedy than his other
plays. The acts, however, are isolated, the action occupies fifteen
years and occurs in Castille, Lisbon and Crete. English readers of the
play must be struck by its resemblance to _Pericles, Prince of Tyre_.
Written fifty-five years before Lawrence Twine's _The Patterne of
Painful Adventures_ (1576) and eighty-seven before George Wilkins and
William Shakespeare produced their play (1608), the _Comedia de Rubena_
is in fact a link in a long chain beginning in a lost fifth century
Greek romance concerning Apollonius of Tyre and continued after Gil
Vicente's death in Timoneda's _Tarsiana_ and in _Pericles_. Vicente,
however, in all probability did not derive his Cismena, cold and chaste
predecessor of Marina, from the _Gesta Romanorum_ or the _Libro de
Apolonio_ but from the version in John Gower's _Confessio Amantis_, of
which a translation, as we know, was early available in Portugal. After
an exclusively Court piece, the _Cortes de Jupiter_, Vicente wrote the
_Farsa de Ines Pereira_, in which there is more action and development
of character than in his preceding, or indeed his subsequent, plays. He
represents the aspirations and repentance of Ines, the 'very flighty
daughter of a woman of low estate.' Despite the warnings of her sensible
mother she rejects the suit of simple and uncouth Pero Marques for that
of a gentleman (_escudeiro_) whose pretensions are far greater than his
possessions. The mother gives them a house and retires to a small
cottage. But the _escudeiro_ married confirms the wisdom of the Sibyl
Cassandra (I. 40). He keeps his wife shut up 'like a nun of Oudivellas.'
The windows are nailed up, she is not allowed to leave the house even to
go to church. Thus the hopes and ambitions of Ines Pereira de Gr[~a]a
are tamed, although she was never a shrew[144]. Presently, however, the
_escudeiro_ resolves to cross over to Africa to win his knighthood:

               ['a]s partes dalem
    Vou me fazer cavaleiro,

and he leaves his wife imprisoned in their house, the key being
entrusted to the servant (_mo[c,]o_). Ines, singing at her work, is
declaring that if ever she have to choose another husband _on ne m'y
prendra plus_ when a letter arrives from her brother announcing that her
husband, as he fled from battle towards Arzila, had been killed by a
Moorish shepherd. The faithful Pero Marques again presses his suit. He
is accepted and is made to suffer the whims and infidelity of the
emancipated Ines. The question of women's rights was a burning one in
the sixteenth century.

Vicente's versatility enabled him to laugh at his critics to the end of
the chapter. In _Dom Duardos_ he gave them an elaborate and very
successful dramatization of a Spanish romance of chivalry. The treatment
has both unity and lyrical charm. It was so successful that the
experiment was repeated in 1533 with the earlier romance of _Amadis de
Gaula_ (1508), out of which Vicente wrought an equally skilful but less
fascinating play[145]. But Vicente had not given up writing farces and
the sojourn of Ines Pereira's husband in town enables the author to
introduce various Lisbon types in _O Juiz da Beira_. It indeed
completely resembles the early farces, while the _Auto da Festa_ with
its peasant scene and allegorical _Verdade_ is of the _Auto da F['e]_
type but adds the theme of the old woman in search of a husband. The
_Templo de Apolo_, composed for a special Court occasion, shows no
development, but in the _Sumario_ we have a fuller religious play than
he had hitherto written. It proves, like _Dom Duardos_, his power of
concentration and his skill in seizing on and emphasizing essential
points in a long action (the period here covered is from Adam to
Christ[146]). It is closely moulded on the Bible and contains, besides
an exquisite _vilancete_ (_Adorae montanhas_), passages of noble poetry
and soaring fervour--Eve's invocation to Adam:

        ['O] como os ramos do nosso pomar
        Ficam cubertos de celestes rosas (I. 314);

Job's lament 'Man that is born of woman' (I. 324); the paraphrase or
rather translation of 'I know that my Redeemer liveth' (I. 322). Nothing
here, surely, to warrant the complaints of S['a] de Miranda as to the
desecration of the Scriptures. This play was followed by the _Dialogo
sobre a Ressurrei[c,]am_ by way of epilogue; it is a conversation
between three Jews and is treated in the cynical manner that Browning
brought to similar scenes. The _Sumario_ or _Auto da Historia de Deos_
was acted before the Court at Almeirim and must have won the sincere
admiration of the devout Jo[~a]o III. If the courtiers were less
favourably impressed they were mollified by the splendid display of the
_Nao de Amores_ with its much music, its Prince of Normandy and its
miniature ship fully rigged. Vicente was now fighting an uphill battle
and in the _Divisa da Cidade de Coimbra_ he attempted a task beyond the
strength of a poet and more suitable for a sermon such as Frei Heitor
Pinto preached on the same subject: the arms of the city of Coimbra.
Even Vicente could not make this a living play; it is, rather, a museum
of antiquities and ends with praises of Court families. It is pathetic
to find the merry satirist reduced to admitting (in the argument of this
play) that merely farcical farces are not very refined. Yet we would
willingly give the whole play for another brief farce such as _Quem tem
farelos?_:

                      Ya sabeis, senhores,
        Que toda a comedia come[c,]a em dolores,
        E inda que toque cousas lastimeiras
        Sabei que as far[c,]as todas chocarreiras
        N[~a]o sam muito finas sem outros primores (II. 108).

Fortunately he returned to the plain farce in _Os Almocreves_, the _Auto
da Feira_ and _O Clerigo da Beira_ (which, however, ends with a series
of Court references) with all his old wealth of satire, touches of
comedy and vivid portraiture. He also returned to the pastoral play in
the _Serra da Estrella_, while his exquisite lyrism flowers afresh in
the _Triunfo do Inverno_, a tragicomedy which is really a medley of
farces. It is not a great drama but it is a typical Vicentian piece,
combining vividly sketched types with a splendid lyrical vein. Winter,
that banishes the swallows and swells the voice of ocean streams, first
triumphs on hills and sea and then Spring comes in singing the lovely
lyric _Del rosal vengo_ in the Serra de Sintra. The play ends on a
serious and mystic note, for Spring's flowers wither but those of the
holy garden of God bloom without fading:

        E o santo jardim de Deos
        Florece sem fenecer.

The _Auto da Lusitania_ is divided into two parts, the first of which is
complete in itself and gives a description of a Jewish household at
Lisbon, while the second is a medley which contains the celebrated scene
of Everyman and Noman: Everyman seeks money, worldly honour, praise,
life, paradise, lies and flattery; Noman is for conscience, virtue,
truth. In the _Romagem de Aggravados_ the fashionable and affected Court
priest, Frei Pa[c,]o, is the connecting link for a series of farcical
scenes in which a peasant brings his son to become a priest, two
noblemen discourse on love, two fishwives lament the excesses of the
courtiers, Cerro Ventoso and Frei Narciso betray their mounting
ambition, civil and ecclesiastic, the poor farmer Aparicianes implores
Frei Pa[c,]o to make a Court lady of his slovenly daughter, two nuns
bewail their fate and two shepherdesses discuss their marriage
prospects. The _Auto da Mofina Mendes_ is especially celebrated because
Mofina Mendes, personification of ill-luck, with her pot of oil is the
forerunner of La Fontaine's _Pierrette et son pot au lait_: it was
perhaps suggested to Vicente by the tale of Do[~n]a Truhana's pot of honey
in _El Conde Lucanor_; the theme of counting one's chickens before they
are hatched also forms the subject of one of the _pasos_, entitled _Las
Aceitunas_, of the goldbeater of Seville, Lope de Rueda[147]. Vicente's
piece consists, like some picture of El Greco, of a _gloria_, called, as
Rueda's scenes, a _passo_, in which appear the Virgin and the Virtues
(Prudence, Poverty, Humility and Faith) and an earthly shepherd scene.
It is thus a combination of farce and religious and pastoral play.
Vicente's last play, the _Floresta de Enganos_, is composed of scenes so
disconnected that one of them is even omitted in the summary given after
the first deceit: that in which a popular traditional theme, derived
directly or indirectly from a French (perhaps originally Italian)
source, _Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_, is presented, akin to that so
piquantly narrated by Alarc['o]n in _El Sombrero de Tres Picos_ in the
nineteenth century, the judge playing the part of the Corregidor and the
malicious and sensible servant-girl that of the miller's wife.

In these last plays we see little or no advance: there is no attempt at
unity or development of plot. We cannot deny that the creator of the
penniless-splendid nobleman and the mincing courtier-priest and the
author of such touches as the death of Ines' husband or the sudden
ignominious flight of the judge possessed a true vein of comedy, but he
remained to the end not technically a great dramatist but a wonderful
lyric poet and a fascinating satirical observer of life. His influence
was felt throughout the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in Portugal,
by Cam[~o]es and in the plays of Chiado, Prestes and a score of less
celebrated dramatists, as well as in a considerable number of anonymous
plays, but confined itself to the _auto_, which, combated by the
followers of the classical drama and the Latin plays of the Jesuits,
soon tended to deteriorate and lose its charm. In Spain his influence
would seem to have been more widely felt, which is not surprising when
we remember how many of his plays were Spanish in origin or
language[148]. We may be sure that Lope de Rueda was acquainted with his
plays and that several of them were known to Cervantes--the servant
Benita insisting on telling her simple stories to her afflicted mistress
is Sancho Panza to the life:

        _Benita._ Diz que era un escudero....

        _Rubena._ O quien no fuera nacida:
                  [?]Viendome salir la vida
                  Paraste a contar patra[~n]as?

        _Benita._ Pues otra s['e] de un carnero....

Lope de Vega was likewise certainly familiar with some of Vicente's
plays. If we consider these passages in _El Viaje del Alma_, the
_representaci['o]n moral_ contained in _El Peregrino en su Patria_
(1604), we must be convinced that the trilogy of _Barcas_, the _Auto da
Alma_, and perhaps the _Nao de Amores_ were not unknown to him:

        Alma para Dios criada
        Y hecha a imagen de Dios, etc.;
        Hoy la Nave del deleite
        Se quiere hacer a la mar:
        [?]Hay quien se quiera embarcar?;
        Esta es la Nave donde cabe
        Todo contento y placer[149].

The alleged imitation by Calder['o]n in _El Lirio y la Azucena_ is
perhaps more doubtful. Vicente was already half forgotten in Calderon's
day. In the artificial literature of the eighteenth century he suffered
total eclipse although Correa Gar[c,][~a]o was able to appreciate him,
nor need we see any direct influence in that of the nineteenth[150]
except that on Almeida Garrett: the similar passages in Goethe's _Faust_
and Cardinal Newman's _Dream of Gerontius_ were no doubt purely
accidental. Happily, however, we are able to point to a certain
influence of the great national poet of Portugal on some of the
Portuguese poets of the twentieth century. The promised edition of his
plays will increase this influence and render him secure from that
neglect which during three centuries practically deprived Portugal and
the world of one of the most charming and inspired of the world's poets.


FOOTNOTES:

[6] _Falamos do nosso Shakespeare, de Gil Vicente_ (A. Herculano,
_Historia da Inquisi[c,][~a]o em Portugal_, ed. 1906, vol. I. p. 223).
The references throughout are to the Hamburg 3 vol. 1834 edition.

[7] See infra _Bibliography_, p. 86, Nos. 42, 62, 79.

[8] _Bibliography_, Nos. 21, 24, 25, 26, 30, 51, 52, 59, 89.

[9] _Bibliography_, Nos. 29, 48, 57, 66, 83, 95.

[10] _Bibliography_, Nos. 53, 73, 82, 88, 97.

[11] _Bibliography_, Nos. 44, 84, 90, 101, 102.

[12] Guerra Junqueiro, _Os Simples_.

[13] Cf. Andr['e] de Resende, _Gillo auctor et actor_. (For the accurate
text of this passage see C. Micha["e]lis de Vasconcellos, _Notas
Vicentinas_, I. p. 17.)

[14] _Os livros das obras que escritas vi_ (Letter of G. V. to King
Jo[~a]o III).

[15] 'E assi mandou de Castella e outras partes vir muitos ouriveis para
fazerem arreos e outras cousas esmaltadas.' (Garcia de Resende, _Cronica
del Rei D. Jo[~a]o II_, cap. 117.)

[16] _Bibliography_, Nos. 70, 71.

[17] He argues that Vicente was not old enough to be King Manuel's
tutor, but in other passages he is clearly in favour of the date 1460 or
1452. He is born 'considerably before' 1470 (_Revista de Historia_, t.
21, p. 11), in 1460? (_ib._ p. 27), in 1452? (_ib_. pp. 28, 31, and t.
22, p. 155), 'about 1460' (t. 22, p. 150), he is from two to seven years
younger than King Manuel, born in 1469 (t. 21, p. 35). He is nearly 80
in 1531 (_ib_. p. 30). His marriage is placed between 1484 and 1492,
preferably in the years 1484-6 (_ib_. p. 35).

[18] Gil Terron in the same year is _alegre y bien asombrado_ (I. 12).

[19] Cf. _Nao de Amores_ (1527), _Viejo, vuestro mundo es ido_, and II.
478 (1529).

[20] See A. Braamcamp Freire in _Revista de Historia_, t. 26, p. 123.

[21] _Grandes baxillas y pedraria_ (_Canc. Geral_, vol. III. (1913), p.
57).

[22] Cf. _Canc. Geral_, vol. I. (1910), p. 259:

        Vejam huns autos Damado,
        Hu[~u] judeu que foi queimado
        No rressyo por seu mal.

[23] There is a slight confusion. The 'second night of the birth' of the
rubric may mean the night following that of the birth (June 6-7), i.e.
the evening of June 7, or the second night _after_ the birth, i.e. the
evening of June 8; but the former is the more probable.

[24] Dami[~a]o de Goes, _Chronica do felicissimo Rey Dom Emanuel_, Pt I.
cap. 69.

[25] See A. Braamcamp Freire in _Revista de Historia_, vol. XXII.
(1917), p. 124 and _Critica e Historia_, vol. I. (1910), p. 325; Brito
Rebello, _Gil Vicente_ (1902), p. 106-8.

[26] _Antolog['i]a de poetas l['i]ricos castellanos_, t. 7, p. clxiii.

[27] _Or['i]genes de la Novela_, t. 3, p. cxlv.

[28] _Antol._ t. 7, p. clxvi.

[29] _Ib._ p. clxxvi.

[30] _Ib._ p. clxiv.

[31] Especially that of Garcia de Resende, who in one verse (185) of his
_Miscellanea_ mentions the goldsmiths and in the next verse the plays of
Gil Vicente.

[32] _Bibliography_, No. 45.

[33] Cf. his earlier studies, in favour of identity, with his later
works, maintaining cousinhood.

[34] Cf. _Obras_, I. 154 (Jupiter is the god of precious stones), I. 93,
286; II. 38, 46, 47, 210, 216, 367, 384, 405; III. 67, 70, 86, 296, etc.
Cf. passages in the _Auto da Alma_ and especially the _Farsa dos
Almocreves_. Vicente evidently sympathizes with the goldsmith to whom
the _fidalgo_ is in debt, and if the poet took the part of _Diabo_ in
the _Auto da Feira_ (1528) the following passage gains in point if we
see in it an allusion to the debts of courtiers to him as goldsmith:

        Eu n[~a]o tenho nem ceitil
        E bem honrados te digo
        E homens de muita renda
        Que tem divedo comigo (I. 158).

[35] The MS. note by a sixteenth century official written above the
document appointing Gil Vicente to the post of _Mestre da Balan[c,]a_
should be conclusive as to the identity of poet and goldsmith: _Gil V^te
trouador mestre da balan[c,]a_ (_Registos da Cancellaria de D. Manuel_,
vol. XLII. f. 20 v. in the _Torre do Tombo_, Lisbon).

[36] Garcia de Resende ([+] 1536) was of opinion that it had no rival in
Europe:

                    nam ha outra igual
        na Christamdade no meu ver.

        (_Miscellanea_, v. 281, ed. Mendes dos Remedios (1917), p. 97.)

It contained 5000 _moradores_ (_ibid._). In the days of King Duarte
(1433-8) the number was 3000.

[37] Cf. the dedication of _Dom Duardos_ (_folha volante_ of the Bib.
Municipal of Oporto, N. 8. 74) to Prince Jo[~a]o: 'Como quiera Excelente
Principe y Rey mui poderoso que las Comedias, Far[c,]as y Moralidades
que he compuesto en servicio de la Reyna vuestra tia....'

[38] The date 1509 is not barred by the reference to the _Sergas de
Esplandian_, which certainly existed in an earlier edition than the
earliest we now possess (1510). A certain Vasco Abul had given a girl at
Alenquer a chain of gold for dancing a _ballo vylam ou mourysco_ and
could not get it back from the _gentil bayladeyra_. Gil Vicente
contributes but a few lines: _O parecer de gil vycente neste proceso de
vasco abul ['a] rraynha dona lianor_.

[39] It is absurd to argue that during the years of his chief activity
as goldsmith he had not time to produce the sixteen plays that may be
assigned to the years 1502-17.

[40] _Gil Vicente_ (1912), p. 11-13.

[41] The dates in the rubrics are given in Roman figures and the
alteration from MDV to MDIX is very slight.

[42] Cf. Bartolom['e] Villalba y Esta[~n]a, _El Pelegrino Curioso y
Grandezas de Espa[~n]a_ [printed from MS. of last third of sixteenth
century]. _Bibli['o]filos Espa[~n]oles_, t. 23, 2 t. 1886, 9, t. 2, p. 37:
'Almerin, un lugar que los reyes de Portugal tienen para el ynvierno,
con un bosque de muchas cabras, corzos y otros generos de caza.'

[43] See A. Braamcamp Freire in _Revista de Historia_, vol. XXII. p.
129.

[44] A. Braamcamp Freire in _Rev. de Hist._ vol. XXII. p. 133-4.

[45] Luis Anriquez in _Canc. Geral_, vol. III. (1913), p. 106.

[46] See _Rev. de Hist._ vol. XXII. p. 122; vol. XXIV. p. 290.

[47] E.g. the words _ahotas_ and _chapado_ and the expression _en
velloritas_ (I. 41), cf. Enzina, _Egloga_ I.: _ni estar['e] ya tendido
en belloritas_ = in clover, lit. in cowslips: _belloritas de jacinto_
(_Egl._ III.).

[48] A. Braamcamp Freire in _Rev. de Hist._ vol. XXIV. p. 290.

[49] There are, however, several such psalms in the works of Enzina.

[50] Cf. I. 85: _huele de dos mil maneras_ with Enzina, _Egloga_ II: _y
ervas de dos mil maneras_. In the _Auto da Alma_, probably written about
this time, there are imitations of Gomez Manrique (_c._ 1415-90). Cf.
the passage in the _Exhorta[c,][~a]o_.

[51] That the illness of the Queen would not prevent the entertainment
is proved by the fact that in the month before her death King Manuel was
present at a fight between a rhinoceros and an elephant in a court in
front of Lisbon's India House. We do not know if Vicente was present nor
what he thought of this new thing.

[52] In December 1517 El Bachiller de la Pradilla published some verses
in praise of _la muy esclarecida Se[~n]ora Infanta Madama Leonor, Rey[na]
de Portugal_ (v. Men['e]ndez y Pelayo, _Antolog['i]a_, t. 6, p.
cccxxxviii).

[53] He argues that such a form as MD & viii was never used and must be
a misprint for MDxviii.

[54] Cf. also the resemblance of certain passages in the _Auto da Alma_
and in the _Auto da Barca da Gloria_ (1519). They must strike any reader
of the two plays.

[55] Goes, _Chronica_, IV. 34.

[56] Garcia de Resende, _Hida da Infanta Dona Beatriz pera Saboya_ in
_Chronica...del Rey Dom Ioam II_, ed. 1752, f. 99 V.

[57] Gil Vicente, _['A] morte del Rei D. Manuel_ (III. 347).

[58] Gil Vicente, _Romance_ (III. 350).

[59] Goes says generally that King Manuel _foi muito inclinado a letras
e letrados_ (_Chronica_, 1619 ed., f. 342. _Favebat plurimum literis_,
says Osorio, _De rebus_, 1561, p. 479).

[60] II. 4: _Foi feita ao muito poderoso e nobre Rei D. Jo[~a]o III.
sendo principe, era de MDXXI_ (rubric of _Comedia de Rubena_).

[61] II. 364. Although 'good wine needs no bush' the custom of hanging a
branch above tavern doors still prevails.

[62] A. Braamcamp Freire in _Rev. de Hist._ vol. XXII. p. 162.

[63] _Id. ib._ vol. XXIV. p. 307. It is astonishing how slight errors in
the rubrics of Vicente's plays have been permitted to survive, just as
Psalm LI, of which Vicente perhaps at about this time wrote a remarkable
paraphrase, still appears in all editions of his works as Ps. L.

[64] _Ib._ vol. XXIV. p. 312-3.

[65] Th. Braga, _Historia da Litteratura Portuguesa. II. Renascen[c,]a_
(1914), p. 85.

[66] J. I. Brito Rebello, _Gil Vicente_ (1902), p. 64.

[67] H. Thomas, _The Palmerin Romances_ (London, 1916), p. 10-12.

[68] M. Men['e]ndez y Pelayo, _Antolog['i]a_, t. 7, p. cci; _Or['i]g. de
la Novela_, I. cclxvii: _toda la pieza es un delicioso idilio_.

[69] _Rev. de Hist._ vol. XXIV. p. 315.

[70] It should be noted that the lines in _Dom Duardos_ (II. 212):

        Consuelo vete de ahi
        No perdas tiempo conmigo

are from the song in the _Comedia de Rubena_ (1521):

        Consuelo vete con Dios (II. 53).

[71] Cf. _O Clerigo da Beira: n[~a]o fazem bem [na corte] sen[~a]o a
quem menos faz_ (III. 320); _Auto da Festa: os homens verdadeiros n[~a]o
s[~a]o tidos n[~u]a palha_, etc.

[72] _Vejo minha morte em casa_ say the verses to the Conde de Vimioso;
_La muerte puesta a mis lados_ says the _Templo de Apolo_.

[73] _Auto da Natural Inven[c,]am_ (Lisboa, 1917), pp. 64, 65, 68, 69,
70, 88, 89.

[74] _Este nome pos-lho o vulgo_ (III. 4). Cf. the title _Os
Almocreves_.

[75] _Rol dos livros defesos_ (1551) ap. C. Micha["e]lis de Vasconcellos,
_Notas Vicentinas_, I. p. 31. We might assume that the second part of _O
Clerigo da Beira_ (III. 250-9) was printed separately under the title
_Auto de Pedreanes_ but for the words _por causa das matinas_.

[76] _Ib._ p. 30-1.

[77] The probability is shown by the fact that the idea of their
identity had occurred to me before reading the same suggestion made by
Snr Braamcamp Freire in the _Revista de Historia_.

[78] See _Notas Vicentinas_, I. (1912). The _Auto da Feira_ answers in
some respects to Cardinal Aleandro's description of the _Jubileu de
Amores_, and Rome (the Church, not the city) might conceivably have been
crowned with a Cardinal's hat, but Aleandro's letter refutes this
suggestion: _uno principal che parlava ... fingeasi Vescovo_. Rome in
the _Auto da Feira_ (I. 162) is a _senhora_. One can only say that the
_Auto da Feira_ may perhaps have been adapted for the occasion, with an
altered title, Spanish being added, to suit the foreign audience.

[79] _E como sempre isto guardasse Este mui leal autor At['e] que Deos
enviasse O Principe nosso senhor Nam quis que outrem o gozasse_ (III.
276).

[80] The familiarity with which the Nuncio is treated would be more
suitable if he was the Portuguese D. Martinho de Portugal, but then the
date would have to be after 1527.

[81] Cf. II. 343: _Salga esotra ave de pena ... Son perdices_ and _Auto
da Festa_, p. 101. The latter text is corrupt (_penitas_ for _peitas_,
and _cousas fritas_ has ousted the required rhyme _juizes_).

[82] The line _nega se m'eu embeleco_ occurs here and in the _Serra da
Estrella_ (1527). Arguments as to date from such repetitions are not
entirely groundless. Cf. _com saudade suspirando_ (_Cortes de Jupiter_,
1521) and _sam suspiros de saudade_ (_Pranto de Maria Parda_, 1522);
_Que dir['a] a vezinhan[c,]a?_ III. 21 (1508-9), _A vezinhan[c,]a que
dir['a]?_ III. 34 (1509); _['O] demo que t'eu encomendo_, III. 99 (1511),
_['O] diabo que t'eu encomendo_, II. 362 (1513). The _Exhorta[c,][~a]o_
(1513), which has passages similar to those in the _Farsa de Ines
Pereira_ (1523) and the _Pranto de Maria Parda_ (1522), probably became
a kind of national anthem and was touched up for each performance.
Curiously, the mention of _a pedra d'estrema_ in the _Pranto_ and in the
_Auto da Festa_ might correspond to a first (1521) and second (1525)
revision of the _Exhorta[c,][~a]o_.

[83] The very success of his plays incited emulation. A play written in
Latin, _Hispaniola_, was acted at the Portuguese Court before his death
(Gallardo, ap. Sousa Viterbo, _A Litt. Hesp. em Portugal_ (1915), p.
xxiv).

[84] See A. Braamcamp Freire in _Rev. de Hist._ vol. XXIV. p. 331.

[85] Francisco Alvarez arrived at the Court at Coimbra in the late
summer of 1527 and he says: _nam se tardou muito que el Rey nosso senhor
se partisse com sua corte via dalmeirim. Verdadeira Informa[c,]am_
(1540), modern reprint, p. 191.

[86] _Rev. de Hist._ vol. XXV. p. 89.

[87] According to Snr Braamcamp Freire this play must be assigned to the
months between September 1529 and February 1530.

[88] O mandei a V. A. por escrito at['e] lhe Deos dar descanso e
contentamento... pera que por minha arte lhe diga o que aqui falece
(III. 388).

[89] In this letter, written in the very year of the first Bull for the
introduction of the Inquisition into Portugal, Vicente uses the
expression 'May I be burnt if.'

[90] The line _A quien contar['e] mis quejas_ (II. 147) is repeated from
the _Trovas_ addressed to King Jo[~a]o in 1527. It is taken from a poem
by the Marqu['e]s de Astorga printed in the _Cancionero General_ (1511):

     [?]A quien contar['e] mis quexas
        Si a ti no?

Cf. _Comedia de Rubena_ (II. 6): _[?]A quien contar['e] mi pena?_ The
comical r[^o]le of the Justi[c,]a Maior may have been taken by Garcia de
Resende, who added acting to his other accomplishments. He was 66, and
he died at Evora in this year.

[91] See A. Braamcamp Freire in _Rev. de Hist._ vol. XXVI. p. 122-3.

[92] From Gil Vicente's epitaph written by himself.

[93] Garcia de Resende (1470-1536), _Miscellanea_, 1752 ed., f. 113.

[94] Andr['e] de Resende, _Genethliacon Principis Lusitani_ (1532), ap.
C. Micha["e]lis de Vasconcellos, _Notas Vicentinas_, I. (1912), p. 17.

[95] _Chronica do fel. Rey Dom Emanvel_, Pt IV. cap. 84 (1619 ed., f.
341): Trazia continuadamente na sua corte choquarreiros castelhanos, com
os motes & ditos dos quaes folgaua, nam porque gostasse tanto do [~q]
diziam como o fazia das dissimuladas reprehens[~o]es [_jocis
perstringere mores_] [~q] com geitos e palauras trocadas dauam aos
moradores de sua casa fazendolhes conhecer as manhas, vi[c,]os & modos
que tinh[~a]o, de que se muitos tirauam & emmendauam, tomando o [~q]
estes tru[~a]es diziam com gra[c,]as por espelho do que aviam de fazer.

[96] _Auto da Cananea_ (1534).

[97] _Auto da Lusitania._

[98] _Serm[~a]o_ (III. 346).

[99] _Carta_ (III. 388).

[100] _Auto da Mofina Mendes_ (I. 120, 121).

[101] _Auto da Cananea_ (I. 365).

[102] _Sumario da Historia de Deos_ (I. 338).

[103] I. 69. His own knowledge of the Bible was extensive and he often
follows it closely, e.g. _Auto da Sibila Cassandra_ (I. 47, 48 = Genesis
i.).

[104] III. 337, 338. His quarrel with the monks was that they did not
serve the State. Cf. _Fragoa de Amor_ (II. 345); _Exhorta[c,][~a]o da
Guerra_ (II. 367).

[105] Cf. the passage in the _Sumario da Historia de Deos_ in which
Abraham complains that men worship stocks and stones and have no
knowledge of God, _criador dos spiritos, eternal spirito_ (I. 326).

[106] III. 284. A critic upbraided Wordsworth for saying that his heart
danced with the daffodils--no doubt Southey's 'my bosom bounds' was more
poetical--yet Shakespeare and Vicente had used the phrase before him.

[107] _Carta_ (III. 388).

[108] _Cortes de Jupiter_ (II. 405).

[109] _Romagem de Aggravados_ (II. 507).

[110] The preparation of his plays for the press was, he says, a burden
in his old age. Some of the plays had been acted in more than one year,
others had been composed years before they were acted, others had been
printed separately. Hence the uncertainty of some of the rubric dates.

[111] _Triunfo do Inverno_ (1529), II. 447.

[112] _Romagem de Aggravados_ (1533), II. 524-5.

[113] _Auto Pastoril Portugues_ (1523), I. 129.

[114] _Farsa dos Almocreves_ (1527), III. 219.

[115] _Triunfo do Inverno_ (1529), II. 487.

[116] _Auto da Feira_ (1528), I. 175.

[117] See the _Fragoa de Amor_ and the _Auto da Festa_.

[118] III. 289 (1532).

[119] II. 363 (as early as 1513).

[120] II. 467-75.

[121] III. 122.

[122] III. 148 (cf. I. 40, III. 41).

[123] Goes, _Chronica do fel. Rey Dom Emanvel_, Pt I. cap. 33 (1619 ed.,
f. 20).

[124] E.g. _Novella_ 35: sotto apparenza onesta di religione ogni vizio
di gola, di lussuria e degli altri, como loro appetito desidera, sanza
niuno mezzo usano; _Novella_ 36: hanno meno discrezione che gli animali
irrazionali.

[125] _Auto da Festa_, ed. 1906, p. 115.

[126] Vicente, who could write such pure and idiomatic Portuguese,
often used peculiar Spanish, not perhaps so much from ignorance as
from a wish to make the best of both languages. Thus he uses the
personal infinitive and makes words rhyme which he must have known
could not possibly rhyme in Spanish, e.g. _parezca_ with _cabeza_
(Portug. _pare[c,]a_--_cabe[c,]a_). So _mucho_ rhymes with _fruto_,
_demue[~n]o_ with _sue[~n]o_.

[127] The miser, _o verdadeiro avaro_ (III. 287), is barely mentioned.
Perhaps Vicente felt that he would have been too much of an abstract
type, not a living person.

[128] The boastful Spaniard appears (in Goethe's _Italienische Reise_)
in the Rome Carnival at the end of the eighteenth century.

[129] There are abundant signs of the cosmopolitanism of Lisbon: A
Basque and a Castilian tavernkeeper, a Spanish seller of vinegar and a
red-faced German friar are mentioned, while Spaniards, Jews, Moors,
negroes, a Frenchman, an Italian are among Vicente's _dramatis
personae_.

[130] It is very curious to find echoes of Enzina in Vicente's
apparently quite personal prose as well as in his poetry. _No ay cosa
que no est['e] dicha_, says Enzina, and Vicente repeats the wise
quotation and imitates the whole passage. Enzina addressing the Catholic
Kings speaks of himself as _muy flaca para navegar por el gran mar de
vuestras alabanzas_. Vicente similarly speaks of 'crowding more sail on
his poor boat.' Enzina, in his dedication to Prince Juan, mentions, like
Vicente, _maliciosos_ and _maldizientes_.

[131] In this play the French _tais-toi_ is written _t['e]toi_. In an
age of few books such phonetic spelling must have been common. It has
been suggested that the _vair_ (grey) of early French poetry was
mistaken for _vert_ (green). The green eyes of the heroines in
Portuguese literature from the _Cancioneiro da Vaticana_ to Almeida
Garrett would thus be based not on reality but, like Cinderella's glass
slippers, on a confusion of homonyms (see Alfred Jeanroy, _Origines de
la po['e]sie lyrique en France_, p. 329).

[132] See his _Arte de Poes['i]a Castellana_, ap. Men['e]ndez y Pelayo,
_Antolog['i]a_, t. 5, p. 32.

[133] _Os autos de Gil Vicente resentem-se muito dos Mysterios
franceses_. This was, in 1890, the opinion of Sousa Viterbo (_A
Litteratura Hespanhola em Portugal_ (1915), p. ix), but surely
Men['e]ndez y Pelayo's view is more correct.

[134] In Resende's _Miscellanea_ the line _n[~o] hos quer deos j[~u]tos
ver_ (1917 ed., p. 16) reads in the 1752 ed., f. 105 v. _ja hos quer_.

[135] Cf. _Tratado tercero: llevandolo a la boca comen[c,]['o] a dar en
el tan fieros bocados_ (1897 ed., p. 50) and _Quem tem farelos?: e
chanta nelle bocado coma c[~a]o_ (i. 7).

[136] The _Canc. Geral_ has a _Pater noster grosado por Luys anrryquez_,
vol. III. (1913), p. 87.

[137] _Antolog['i]a_, t. 7, pp. clxxii, clxxiv.

[138] _Antolog['i]a_, t. 2, p. 6.

[139] I. 298. _Vuelta vuelta los Franceses_ from the _romance Domingo
era de Ramos, la Pasion quieren decir_.

[140] _Comedia de Rubena_, II. 40. The earliest known edition of the
Spanish version of Jacopo Caviceo's _Il Pellegrino_ (1508) is dated 1527
but that mentioned in Fernando Col['o]n's catalogue (no. 4147) was no
doubt earlier. In 1521 Vicente can already bracket the Spanish
translation with the popular _Carcel de Amor_ printed in 1492, and
indeed it ran to many editions. Its full title was _Historia de los
honestos amores de Peregrino y Ginebra._ Vald['e]s (_Dialogo de la
Lengua_) ranks _El Pelegrino_ as a translation with Bosc['a]n's version
of _Il Cortegiano: estan mui bien roman[c,]ados_.

[141] E.g. the _Nao de Amor_ of Juan de Due[~n]as.

[142] The Everyman-Noman theme in the _Auto da Lusitania_ is, like that
of _Mofina Mendes_, common to many countries and old as the hills.

[143] Henry Hallam, _Introduction to the Literature of Europe_ (Paris,
1839), vol. I. p. 206.

[144] Cf. the story _del mancebo que cas['o] con una mujer muy fuerte et
muy brava_ in Don Juan Manuel's _El Conde Lucanor_ (_c._ 1535).
Shakespeare's _The Taming of the Shrew_ was written exactly a century
after _Ines Pereira_; the anonymous _Taming of a Shrew_ in 1594.

[145] The author of a sixteenth century Spanish play published in
_Bibli['o]f. Esp._ t. 6 (1870) declares that, in order to write it, he
has 'trastornado todo _Amadis_ y la _Demanda del Sancto Grial_ de pe a
pa.' The result, according to the colophon, is 'un deleitoso jardin de
hermosas y olientes flores,' a description which would better suit a
Vicente-play.

[146] Cf. the twelfth century _Repr['e]sentation d'Adam_. The _Sumario_
has 18 figures. The _Auto da Feira_ has 22, but over half of these
consist of a group of peasants from the hills.

[147] _Obras_ (1908), t. 2, p. 217-24.

[148] The anonymous _Tragicomedia Aleg['o]rica del Paraiso y del
Inferno_ (Burgos, 1539) followed hard upon his death. It is not the work
of Vicente, who, although in his Spanish he used _allen_, would not have
translated _nas partes de alem_ into an African town: _en Allen_.

[149] _3a impr._ (Madrid, 1733), p. 35; p. 37 (the 1733 text has _Oi_
and _Ai_); p. 39.

[150] As late as 1870 Dr Theophilo Braga could say 'Nobody now studies
Vicente' (_Vida de Gil Vicente_, p. 59).




                          COPILACAM
                      DE TODALAS OBRAS
                  DE GIL VICENTE, A QVAL SE
      reparte em cinco Liuros. O Primeyro he de todas suas
      cousas de deua[c,]am. O segundo as Comedias. O terceyro
          as Tragicomedias. No quarto as Farsas.
                  No quinto, as obras meudas.
                             (;)

         [p]Vam emmendadas polo Sancto Officio,
          como se manda no Cathalogo deste Regno.
                            [p]

    [p]Foy impresso em a muy nobre & sempre leal Cidade
              de Lixboa, por Andres Lobato.
                   Anno de M. D. Lxxxyj

    [p]Foy visto polos Deputados da Sancta Inquisi[c,]am

                    COM PRIVILEGIO REAL.


            [p]E la taxado em papel a    reis

TITLE-PAGE OF THE SECOND (1586) EDITION OF GIL VICENTE'S WORKS




AUTO DA ALMA

        L'Angel di Dio mi prese e quel d' Inferno
        Gridava: O tu dal Ciel, perch[`e] mi privi?
                                DANTE, _Purg._ v.


                              _Auto da Alma._

Este auto presente foy feyto aa muyto deuota raynha dona Lianor &
representado ao muyto poderoso & nobre Rey dom Emmanuel, seu yrm[~a]o,
por seu mandado, na cidade de Lisboa nos pa[c,]os da ribeyra em a noyte
de endoen[c,]as. Era do Senhor de M.D. & viij[151].

                                 Argvmento.

Assi como foy cousa muyto necessaria auer nos caminhos estalagens pera
repouso & refey[c,]am dos cansados caminhantes, assi foy cousa
conveniente que nesta caminhante vida ouuesse h[~u]a estalajadeyra
eterna para refei[c,][~a]o & descanso das almas que vam caminhantes pera
a morada[152] de Deos. Esta estalajadeyra das almas he a madre sancta
ygreja, a mesa he o altar, os m[~a]jares as insignias da payx[~a]. E
desta perfigura[c,][~a][153] trata a obra seguinte.

[p] Est['a] posta h[~u]a mesa c[~o] h[~u]a cadeyra: v[~e] a madre sancta
ygreja c[~o] seus quatro doctores, Sancto Thomas, Sam Hieronymo, Sancto
Ambrosio, Sancto Agostinho, & diz Agostinho.

      1 AGOST. Necessario foy, amigos,
        que nesta triste carreyra
        desta vida
        pera os mui perigosos perigos
        dos immigos
        ouuesse alg[~u]a maneyra
        de guarida.
      2 Porque a humana transitoria
        natureza vay cansada
        em varias calmas
        nesta carreyra da gloria
        meritoria
        foi necessario pensada
        pera as almas.
    [p] Pousada com mantimentos,
        mesa posta em clara luz,
        sempre esperando,
        com dobrados mantimentos
        dos tormentos
        que o filho de Deos na Cruz
        comprou penando.
      4 Sua morte foy auen[c,]a,
        dando, por darnos parayso,
        a sua vida
        apre[c,]ada sem deten[c,]a,
        por senten[c,]a
        julgada a paga em prouiso
        & recebida.
    [p] Ha sua mortal empresa
        foy sancta estalajadeyra
        ygreja madre
        consolar aa sua despesa
        nesta mesa
        qualquer alma caminheyra
        com ho padre
      6 e o anjo custodio ayo.
        Alma que lhe he encomendada
        se enfraquece
        & lhe vay tomando rayo
        de desmayo
        se chegando a esta pousada
        se guarece.

[p] V[~e] o anjo custodio c[~o] a alma & diz.

      7 ANJO. [p] Alma humana formada
        de nenh[~u]a cousa feyta
        muy preciosa,
        de corrup[c,]am separada,
        & esmaltada
        naquella fragoa perfeyta
        gloriosa;
    [p] planta neste valle posta
        pera dar celestes flores
        olorosas
        & pera serdes tresposta
        em a alta costa
        onde se criam primores
        mais que rosas;
      9 planta soes & caminheyra,
        que ainda que estais vos his
        donde viestes;
        vossa patria verdadeyra
        he ser herdeyra
        da gloria que conseguis,
        anday prestes.
    [p] Alma bemauenturada,
        dos anjos tanto querida,
        nam durmais,
        hum punto nam esteis parada,
        que a jornada
        muyto em breue he fenecida
        se atentais.

     11 ALMA. Anjo que soes minha guarda
        Olhay por minha fraqueza
        terreal:
        de toda a parte aja resguarda
        que nam arda
        a minha preciosa riqueza
        principal.
    [p] Cercayme sempre oo redor
        porque vin muy temerosa
        da contenda:
        Oo precioso defensor,
        meu favor,
        vossa espada lumiosa
        me defenda.
    [p] Tende sempre m[~a]o em mim
        porque ey medo de empe[c,]ar
        & de cayr.

        ANJO. Pera isso sam & a isso vim
        mas em fim
        cumpreuos de me ajudar
        a resistir.
     14 Nam vos occupem vaydades,
        riquezas nem seus debates,
        olhay por vos:
        que pompas, honrras, herdades,
        & vaydades
        sam embates & combates
        pera vos.
    [p] Vosso liure aluidrio,
        isento, forro, poderoso,
        vos he dado
        pollo diuinal poderio
        & senhorio,
        que possais fazer glorioso
        vosso estado.
     16 Deuvos liure entendimento
        & vontade libertada
        & a memoria,
        que tenhais em vosso tento
        fundamento
        que soes por elle criada
        pera a gloria.
    [p] E vendo Deos que o metal,
        em que vos pos a estilar
        pera merecer,
        que era muyto fraco & mortal,
        & por tal
        me manda a vos ajudar
        & defender.
     18 Andemos a estrada nossa,
        olhay nam torneis a tras
        que o [~i]migo
        aa vossa vida gloriosa
        pora grosa.
        Nam creaes a Satanas,
        vosso perigo.
    [p] Continuay ter cuydado
        na fim de vossa jornada
        & a memoria
        que o spirito atalayado
        do peccado
        caminha sem temer nada
        pera a gloria.
     20 e nos la[c,]os infernaes
        & nas redes de tristura
        tenebrosas
        da carreyra que passaes
        nam cayaes:
        sigua vossa fermosura
        as gloriosas.

[p] Adiantase o Anjo e vem o diabo a ella e diz o diabo.

    [p] Tam depressa, oo delicada
        alua pomba, pera onde his?
        quem vos engana,
        & vos leua tam cansada
        por estrada
        que soomente nam sentis
        se soes humana?
     22 Nam cureis de vos matar
        que ainda estais em idade
        de crecer.
        Tempo hahi pera folgar
        & caminhar,
        Viuey aa vossa vontade
        & a avey prazer.
    [p] Gozay, gozay dos b[~e]s da terra,
        procuray por senhorios
        & aueres.
        Qu[~e] da vida vos desterra
        aa triste serra?
        quem vos falla em desuarios
        por prazeres?
     24 Esta vida he descanso
        doce & manso,
        nam cureis doutro parayso:
        quem vos p[~o]e em vosso siso
        outro remanso?

     25 ALMA. [p] Nam me detenhaes aqui,
        Deyxayme yr, [~q] em al me fundo.

        DIABO. Oo descansay neste mundo,
        que todos fazem assi.
     26 Nam sam em balde os aueres,
        Nam sam em balde os deleytes
        & farturas*,
        nam sam de balde os prazeres
        & comeres,
        tudo sam puros affeytes
        das creaturas:
     27 pera os hom[~e]s se criar[~a]o.
        Dae folga a vossa possagem
        doje a mais,
        descansay, pois descansar[~a]o
        os que passaram
        por esta mesma romagem
        que leuais.
     28 O que a vontade quiser,
        quanto o corpo desejar,
        tudo se fa[c,]a:
        zombay de quem vos quiser
        reprender,
        querendovos marteyrar
        tam de gra[c,]a.
     29 Tornarame se a vos fora,
        his tam triste, atribulada
        que he tormenta:
        senhora, vos soes senhora
        emperadora,
        nam deueis a ninguem nada,
        sede isenta.

     30 ANJO. Oo anday, quem vos detem?
        Como vindes pera a gloria
        devagar!
        Oo meu Deos, oo summo bem!
        Ja ninguem
        nam se preza da vitoria
        em se saluar.
     31 Ja cansais, alma preciosa?
        T[~a]o asinha desmayaes?
        Sede esfor[c,]ada:
        Oo como virieis trigosa
        & desejosa,
        se visseis quanto ganhaes
        nesta jornada.
     32 Caminhemos, caminhemos,
        esfor[c,]ay ora, alma sancta
        esclarecida.

[p] Adiantase o anjo & torna Satanas.

        Que vaydades & que estremos
        tam supremos!
        Pera que he essa pressa tanta?
        Tende vida.
    [p] His muy desautorizada,
        descal[c,]a, pobre, perdida
        de remate,
        nam leuais de vosso nada
        amargurada:
        assi passais esta vida
        em disparate.
    [p] Vesti ora este brial,
        metey o bra[c,]o por aqui,
        ora esperay.
        Oo como vem t[~a]o real!
        isto tal
        me parece bem a mi:
        ora anday.
     35 H[~u]s chapins aueis mister
        de Valen[c,]a, muy fermosos[*],
        eylos aqui:
        Agora estais vos molher
        de parecer.
        P[~o]de os bra[c,]os presumptuosos,
        isso si,
     36 passeayuos muy pomposa,
    [p] daqui pera ali & de laa por ca,
        & fantasiay.
        Agora estais vos fermosa
        como a rosa,
        tudo vos muy bem estaa:
        descansay.

Torna o anjo a alma diz[~e]do.

     37 ANJO. [p] Que andais aqui fazendo?

        ALMA. Fa[c,]o o [~q] vejo fazer
        pollo mundo.

        ANJO. Oo Alma, hisuos perd[~e]do,
        correndo vos his meter
        no profundo.
     38 Quanto caminhais auante
        tanto vos tornais a tras
        & a trauees,
        tomastes ante com ante
        por marcante
        o cossayro satanas
        porque querees.
    [p] Oo caminhay com cuydado
        que a Virgem gloriosa
        vos espera:
        deyxais vosso principado
        desherdado,
        engeytais a gloria vossa
        & patria vera.
     40 Deyxay esses chapins ora
        & esses rabos tam sobejos,
        que his carregada,
        nam vos tome a morte agora
        tam senhora,
        nem sejais com tais desejos
        sepultada.
     41 ALMA. [p] Anday, day me ca essa m[~a]o:
        anday vos, que eu yrey
        quanto poder.

Adi[~a]tese o anjo & torna o diabo.

        DIABO. Todas as cousas c[~o] rez[~a]o
        tem [c,]azam.
        Senhora, eu vos direy
        meu parecer:
     42 hahi tempo de folgar
        & idade de crecer
        & outra idade
        de mandar e triumphar,
        & apanhar
        & acquirir prosperidade
        a que poder.
    [p] Ainda he cedo pera a morte:
        tempo ha de arrepender
        e yr ao ceo.
        Pondevos a for da corte,
        desta sorte
        viua vosso parecer,
        que tal naceo.
     44 O ouro pera que he?
        & as pedras preciosas
        & brocados,
        & as sedas pera que?
        Tende per fee
        [~q] pera as almas mais ditosas
        foram dados*.
    [p] Vedes aqui hum colar
        douro muy bem esmaltado
        & dez aneis.
        Agora estais vos pera casar
        & namorar:
        neste espelho vos vereis
        & sabereis
        [~q] nam vos ey de enganar.
     46 E poreis estes pendentes,
        em cada orelha seu,
        isso si,
        que as pessoas diligentes
        sam prudentes:
        agora vos digo eu
        que you contente daqui.

     47 ALMA. [p] Oo como estou preciosa,
        tam dina pera seruir
        & sancta pera adorar!

        ANJO. Oo alma despiadosa,
        perfiosa,
        quem vos deuesse fugir
        mais que guardar!
     48 Pondes terra sobre terra,
        que esses ouros terra sam:
        oo senhor,
        porque permites tal guerra
        que desterra
        ao reyno da confusam
        o teu lauor?
    [p] Nam hieis mais despejada
        & mais liure da primeyra
        pera andar?
        Agora estais carregada
        & embara[c,]ada
        com cousas que ha derradeyra
        ham de ficar.
     50 Tudo isso se descarrega
        ao porto da sepultura:
        alma sancta, quem vos cega,
        vos carrega
        dessa va[~a] desauentura?

     51 ALMA. Isto nam me pesa nada
        mas a fraca natureza
        me embara[c,]a.
        Ja nam posso dar passada
        de cansada:
        tanta ['e] minha fraqueza
        & tam sem gra[c,]a.
     52 Senhor hidevos embora,
        que remedio em mi nam sento,
        ja estou tal.

        ANJO. Sequer day dous passos ora
        atee onde mora
        a que tem o mantimento
        celestial.
    [p] Ireis ali repousar,
        comereis alg[~u]s bocados
        confortosos,
        porque a hospeda he sem par
        em agasalhar
        os que vem atribulados
        & chorosos.

     54 ALMA. He l[~o]ge?

        ANJO.          Aqui muy perto.
        Esfor[c,]ay, nam desmayeis
        & andemos,
        que ali ha todo concerto
        muy certo:
        quantas cousas querereis
        tudo temos*.

    [p] A hospeda tem gra[c,]a tanta,
        faruosha tantos fauores.

        ALMA. Quem he ella?

        ANJO. He a madre ygreja sancta,
        e os seus sanctos doutores
        i com ella.
     56 Ireis di muy despejada
        chea do Spirito Sancto
        & muy fermosa:
        ho alma sede esfor[c,]ada,
        outra passada,
        que nam tendes de andar t[~a]to
        a ser esposa.

     57 DIABO. [p] Esperay, onde vos his?
        Essa pressa tam sobeja
        He ja pequice.
        Como, vos que presumis
        consentis
        continuardes a ygreja
        sem velhice?
     58 Dayuos, dayuos a prazer,
        [~q] muytas horas ha nos annos
        que laa vem.
        Na hora que a morte vier
        Como xiquer
        se perdo[~a]o quantos dannos
        a alma tem.
     59 Olhay por vossa fazenda:
        tendes h[~u]as scripturas
        de h[~u]s casais
        de que perdeis grande renda.
        He contenda
        que leyxar[~a]o aas escuras
        vossos pays;
     60 he demanda muy ligeyra,
        litigios que sam vencidos
        em um riso:
        citay as partes ter[c,]a feyra
        de maneyra
        como nam fiquem perdidos
        & auey siso.

     61 ALMA. Calte por amor de deos
        leyxame, nam me persigas,
        bem abasta
        estoruares os ereos
        dos altos ceos,
        que a vida em tuas brigas
        se me gasta.
     62 Leyxame remediar
        o que tu cruel danaste
        sem vergonha,
        que nam me posso abalar
        nem chegar
        ao logar onde gaste
        esta pe[c,]onha.

     63 ANJO. [p] Vedes aqui a pousada
        verdadeyra & muy segura
        a quem quer vida.

        YGREJA. Oo como vindes cansada
        & carregada!

        ALMA. Venho por minha ventura
        amortecida.

     64 YGREJA. Quem sois? pera onde andais?

        ALMA. Nam sey pera onde vou,
        sou saluagem,
        sou h[~u]a alma que peccou
        culpas mortaes
        contra o Deos que me criou
        aa sua imagem.
    [p] Sou a triste, sem ventura,
        criada resplandecente
        & preciosa,
        angelica em fermosura
        & per natura
        come rayo reluzente
        lumiosa.
     66 E por minha triste sorte
        & diabolicas maldades
        violentas
        estou mais morta que a morte,
        sem deporte,
        carregada de vaydades
        pe[c,]onhentas.
    [p] Sou a triste, sem meezinha,
        peccadora abstinada
        perfiosa,
        pella triste culpa minha
        mui mesquinha
        a todo mal inclinada
        & deleytosa.
     68 Desterrey da minha mente
        os meus perfeytos arreos
        naturaes,
        nam me prezey de prudente
        mas contente
        me gozey com os trajos feos
        mundanaes.
    [p] Cada passo me perdi
        em lugar de merecer,
        eu sou culpada:
        auey piedade de mi
        que nam me vi,
        perdi meu inocente ser
        & sou danada.
     70 E por mais graueza sento
        nam poderme arrepender
        quanto queria,
        que meu triste pensamento
        sendo isento
        nam me quer obedecer
        como soya.
    [p] Socorrey, hospeda senhora,
        que a m[~a]o de Satanas
        me tocou,
        e sou ja de mi tam fora
        que agora
        nam sey se auante se a traz
        nem como vou.
     72 Consolay minha fraqueza
        com sagrada yguaria,
        que pere[c,]o,
        por vossa sancta nobreza,
        que he franqueza,
        porque o que eu merecia
        bem conhe[c,]o.
    [p] Conhe[c,]ome por culpada
        & digo diante vos
        minha culpa.
        Senhora, quero pousada,
        day passada,
        pois que padeceo por nos
        quem nos desculpa.
     74 Mandayme ora agasalhar,
        capa dos desamparados,
        ygreja madre.

        YGREJA. Vindevos aqui assentar
        muy de vagar,
        que os manjares s[~a]o guisados
        por Deos Padre.
    [p] Sancto Agostinho doutor,
        Geronimo, Ambrosio, S[~a] Thomas,
        meus pilares,
        serui aqui por meu amor
        a qual milhor,
        & tu, alma, gostaraas
        meus manjares.
     76 Ide aa sancta cosinha,
        tornemos esta alma em si,
        porque mere[c,]a
        de chegar onde caminha
        & se detinha:
        pois que Deos a trouxe aqui
        nam pere[c,]a.

[p] Em quanto estas cousas passam Satanas passea fazendo muytas vascas &
vem outro & diz.

    [p] Como andas desasossegado.

        DIABO. Ar[c,]o em fogo de pesar.

        OUTRO. Que ouueste?

        DIABO. Ando tam desatinado
        de enganado
        que nam posso repousar
        que me preste.
     78 Tinha h[~u]a alma enganada
        ja quasi pera infernal
        mui acesa.

        OUTRO. E quem ta levou for[c,]ada?

        DIABO. O da espada.

        OUTRO. Ja melle fez outra tal
        bulra como essa.
    [p] Tinha outra alma ja vencida
        em ponto de se enforcar
        de desesperada,
        a nos toda offerecida
        & eu prestes pera a levar
        arrastada;
     80 e elle fella chorar tanto
        que as lagrimas corri[~a]
        polla terra.
        Blasfemey entonces tanto
        que meus gritos retiniam
        polla serra.
    [p] Mas fa[c,]o conta que perdi,
        outro dia ganharey,
        e ganharemos.

        DIABO. Nam digo eu, yrm[~a]o, assi,
        mas a esta tornarey
        & veremos.
     82 Tornala ey a affogar
        depois que ella sayr fora
        da ygreja
        & come[c,]ar de caminhar:
        hei de apalpar
        se venceram ainda agora
        esta peleja.

Alma com o Anjo.

    [p] ALMA. Vos nam me desampareis,
        senhor meu anjo custodio.
        Oo increos
        imigos, que me quereis
        que ja sou fora do odio
        de meu Deos?
     84 Leyxaime ja, tentadores,
        neste conuite prezado
        do Senhor,
        guisado aos peccadores
        com as dores
        de Christo crucificado,
        Redemptor.

[p] Estas cousas estando a alma assentada [`a] mesa & o anjo junto com
ella em pee, vem os doutores com quatro bacios de cosinha cubertos
cantando Vexila regis prodeunt*. E postos na mesa, Sancto Agostinho diz.

     85 AGOST. Vos, senhora conuidada,
        nesta cea soberana
        celestial
        aueis mister ser apartada
        & transportada
        de toda a cousa mundana
        terreal.
     86 Cerray os olhos corporaes,
        deytay ferros aos danados
        apetitos,
        caminheyros infernaes,
        pois buscaes
        os caminhos bem guiados
        dos contritos.

     87 YGREJA. Benzey a mesa, senhor,
        & pera consola[c,]am
        da conuidada,
        seja a ora[c,]am de dor
        sobre o tenor
        da gloriosa payxam
        consagrada.
     88 E vos, alma, rezareis,
        contemplando as viuas dores
        da senhora,
        vos outros respondereis
        pois que fostes rogadores
        atee agora.

Ora[c,][~a] pa Santo Agostinho.

    [p] Alto Deos marauilhoso
        que o mundo visitaste
        em carne humana,
        neste valle temeroso
        & lacrimoso
        tua gloria nos mostraste
        soberana;
     90 e teu filho delicado,
        mimoso da diuindade
        & natureza,
        per todas partes chagado
        & muy sangrado
        polla nossa infirmidade
        & vil fraqueza.
    [p] Oo emperador celeste,
        Deos alto muy poderoso
        essencial,
        que pollo homem que fizeste
        offereceste
        o teu estado glorioso
        a ser mortal.
    [p] E tua filha, madre, esposa,
        horta nobre, frol dos ceos,
        Virgem Maria,
        mansa pomba gloriosa
        o quam chorosa
        quando o seu Filho e Deos*
        padecia.
     93 Oo lagrymas preciosas,
        de virginal cora[c,]am
        estilladas,
        correntes das dores vossas
        com os olhos da perfey[c,]am
        derramadas!
    [p] Quem h[~u]a soo podera ver
        vira claramente nella
        aquella dor,
        aquella pena & padecer
        com que choraueis, donzella,
        vosso amor.
    [p] E quando vos amortecida
        se lagrymas vos faltauam
        nam faltaua
        a vosso filho & vossa vida
        chorar as que lhe ficauam
        de quando orava.
     96 Porque muyto mais sentia
        pollos seus padecimentos
        vervos tal,
        mais que quanto padecia
        lhe doya,
        & dobrava seus tormentos
        vosso mal.
    [p] Se se podesse dizer,
        se se podesse rezar
        tanta dor;
        se se podesse fazer
        podermos ver
        qual estaueis ao clauar
        do Redemptor.
     98 Oo fermosa face bella,
        oo resplandor divinal,
        que sentistes
        quando a cruz se pos aa vella
        & posto nella
        o filho celestial
        que paristes!
     99 Vendo por cima da gente
        assomar vosso conforto
        tam chagado,
        crauado tam cruelmente,
        & vos presente,
        vendo vos ser m[~a]y do morto
        & justi[c,]ado.
    100 O rainha delicada,
        sanctidade escurecida
        quem nam chora
        em ver morta & debru[c,]ada
        a auogada,
        a for[c,]a de nossa vida
        *[pecadora]!

    101 AMBROSIO. Isto chorou Hyeremias
        sobre o monte de Sion
        ha ja dias,
        porque sentio que o Messias
        era nossa redemp[c,]am.
    102 E choraua a sem ventura
        triste de Jerusalem
        homecida,
        matando contra natura
        seu Deos nascido em Belem
        nesta vida.

    103 GERONYMO. Quem vira o sancto cordeyro
        antre os lobos humildoso
        escarnecido,
        julgado pera o marteyro
        do madeyro,
        seu rosto aluo & fermoso
        muy cuspido!

        AGOST.       B[~e]ze a mesa.

    104 A ben[c,]am do padre eternal
        & do filho que por nos
        sofreo tal dor
        & do spirito sancto, igual
        Deos immortal,
        conuidada, benza a vos
        por seu amor.

    105 YGREJA. [p] Ora sus, venha agoa as m[~a]os.

        AGOST. Vos aveysuos de lavar
        em lagrymas da culpa vossa
        & bem lauada
        & aueisuos de chegar
        alimpar
        a h[~u]a toalha fermosa
        bem laurada
    106 co sirgo das veas puras
        da Virgem sem magoa nacido
        & apurado,
        torcido com amarguras
        aas escuras,
        com grande dor guarnecido
        & acabado.
    [p] Nam que os olhos alimpeis,
        que a nam consentir[~a]o
        os tristes la[c,]os
        que taes pontos achareis
        da face & enues,
        que se rompe o cora[c,][~a]o
        em peda[c,]os.
    108 Vereis*, triste, laurado
        [com rosto de fermosura]*
        natural,
        com tormentos pespontado
        e figurado,
        Deos criador, em figura
        de mortal.

[p] Esta toalha que aqui se falla he a varonica, a qual Sancto Agostinho
tira dantre os bacios & a mostra [`a] Alma, & a madre ygreja con os
doutores lhe fazem adora[c,][~a]o de joelhos, cantando Salue sancta
facies, & acabando diz a madre ygreja.

    [p] Venha a primeyra yguaria.

        GERO. Esta yguaria primeyra
        foy, senhora,
        guisada sem alegria
        em triste dia,
        a crueldade cozinheyra
        & matadora.
    110 Gostala eis com salsa & sal
        de choros de muyta dor,
        porque os costados
        do Messias diuinal,
        sancto sem mal,
        for[~a]o pollo vosso amor
        a[c,]outados.

[p] Esta yguaria em [~q] aqui se falla sam os a[c,]outes, & em este
passo os tir[~a] dos bacios & os presentam a alma & todos de joelhos
adoram cant[~a]do Aue flagellum, & despois diz Geronymo.

    [p] Estoutro manjar segundo
        he yguaria
        que aueis de mastigar
        em contemplar
        a dor que o senhor do mundo
        padecia
        pera vos remediar.
    112 foi hum tromento improuiso
        que aos miolos lhe chegou
        & consentio,
        por remediar o siso
        que a vosso siso faltou,
        e pera ganhardes parayso
        a sofrio.

[p] Esta yguaria segunda de que aqui se fala he a coroa de espinhos, e
em este passo a tiram dos bacios & de joelhos os sanctos doutores cantam
Aue corona espinearum, & acabando diz a madre ygreja.

    113 Venha outra do teor.

        GERO. Estoutro manjar terceyro
        foy guisado
        em tres lugares de dor,
        a qual maior,
        com a lenha do madeyro
        mais prezado.
    114 Comese com gram tristeza*
        porque a virgem gloriosa
        o vio guisar:
        vio crauar com gram crueza
        a sua riqueza
        & sua perla preciosa
        vio furar.

[p] E a este passo tira sancto Agostinho os crauos, & todos de joelhos
os ador[~a]o, cantando Dulce lignum, dulcis clauus, & acabada a
adora[c,]am diz o anjo [`a] alma.

    [p] Leixay ora esses arreos,
        que estoutra nam se come assi
        como cuydais:
        pera as almas sam mui feos
        e sam meos
        con que nam andam em si
        os mortais.

[p] Despe a alma o vestido & joyas que lho imigo deu & diz Agostinho.

    [p] Oo alma bem aconselhada,
        que dais o seu a cujo he,
        o da terra ha terra:
        agora yreis despejada
        polla estrada,
        porque vencestes com fee
        forte guerra.

    117 YGREJA. [p] Venha estoutra yguaria.

        GERO. A quarta yguaria he tal,
        tam esmerada,
        de tam infinda valia
        & contia
        que na mente diuinal
        foy guisada,
    118 por mysterio preparada
        no sacrario virginal
        muy cuberta,
        da diuindade cercada
        & consagrada,
        despois ao padre eternal
        dada em oferta.

[p] Apresenta sam Geronymo [`a] alma hum crucificio que tira dantre os
pratos, & os doutores o adoram cantando Domine Jesu Christe, & acabando
diz a alma.

    [p] C[~o] que for[c,]as, com [~q] spirito
        te darey, triste, louuores
        que sou nada,
        vendote, Deos infinito,
        tam afflito,
        padecendo tu as dores
        & eu culpada?
    120 Como estaas tam quebrantado,
        filho de Deos immortal!
        quem te matou?
        Senhor per cujo mandado
        es justi[c,]ado
        sendo Deos vniuersal
        que nos criou?

    121 AGOST. [p] A fruyta deste jantar,
        que neste altar vos foy dado
        com amor,
        yremos todos buscar
        ao pomar
        adonde estaa sepultado
        o redemptor.

[p] E todos com a alma, cantando Te Deum laudamus, foram adorar ho
muymento.

                                LAVS DEO.


NOTES:

1. _pera mui p'rigosos p'rigos_ C. _imigos_ C.

2. _pensada_ A, B; _pousada_ C. _passada?_ cf. infra 73 and J. Ruiz
_Cantar de Ciegos_. De los bienes deste siglo No tiuemos nos _pasada_.

3. _Pousada com alimentos?_

4. _apressada_ C.

6. _em chegando?_

13. _a resistir_ A, B, C; _e resistir_ D.

18. _atras_ B. _imigo_ B.

20. _trestura_ B. _vem o Diabo e diz_ C.

22. _E havei prazer_ C.

23. _& auereis?_ B. _cue da vida vos desterra_ B.

26. _nam som em balde os deleytes_ B. _fortunas_ A, B, C, D, E.
_criaturas_ C.

27. _possagem_ A, B; _passagem_ C.

35. _Huns chapins aueis mister De Valen[c,]a, eylos aqui_ A, B, C, D, E.

36. _de la pera ca_ C.

38. _marcante_ A, B; _mercante_ C, D. _quer[^e]s_ C, D.

41. _poder_ A; _puder_ B, C. _Todas cousas com raz[~a]o Tem saz[~a]o_
C.

42. _poder_ A, B; _puder_ C.

43. _naceo_ A, B; _nasceo_ C (cf. infra 102 _nascido_ A; 106 _nacido_
A).

44. _dadas_ A, B; _dados_ C.

45. _esmaltados_ B. _neste espelho & sabereis_ B. _Neste espelho bem
lavrado Vos vereis?_ (omitting _& sabereis--enganar_).

46. _em cada orelha o seu_ B.

47. _despiedosa_ C.

49. _['a] derradeira_ C.

50. _van_ C.

52. _mim_ C.

54. _muito certo? tudo tendes_ A, B, C, D, E.

56. _Siprito_ B.

58. _como se quer_ C.

59. _escripturas_ C.

61. _estrouares_ B. _hereos_ C.

62. _damnaste_ C.

65. _como o raio_ C.

66. _violentas_ A. _& tromentas_ B.

67. _mezinha_ B. _obstinada_ C. _a todo o mal_ C; _e todo o mal_ D.

68. _arreos_, _feos_ C; _c'os trajos_ C.

69. _logar_ C. _damnada_ C.

71. _soccorey_ C.

74. _devagar_ C.

75. _Jeronimo, Ambrosio e Thomaz_ C, D. _e qual_ D. _melhor_ C, D.

76. _troxe_ B. _passeia_ C. _vem outro Diabo_ C.

77. _dessocegado_ C, D.

79. _Tinha outra alma vencida_ B.

80. _f[^e]-la_ C, D.

81. _asi_ B.

82. _affogar_ A; _affagar_ C. _Entra a Alma, con o Anjo_ C, D.

84. _Vexilla_ C. _pro Deum_ A, B; _prodeunt_ C.

88. _at['e] 'gora_ C, D.

90. _pela nossa_ C, D.

91. _polo homem_ C, E. B omits 90 and 91.

92. _O qu[~a]o chorosa Quando o seu Deos padecia_ A, B, C, D, E.

93. _com os_ A, B; _c'os olhos_ C, D.

94. _podera ver_ A, B; _podera haver_ C, D.

96. _vermos_ B.

97. _cravar_ C.

100. _morta debru[c,]ada_ C. _de nossa vida_ A, B; _da nossa vida_ C, D.
_pecadora_? or _e senhora_? or _nesta hora_?

101. _Mesias_ B.

102. _choraua sem_ B.

103. _cospido_ B.

105. _Vso aveysuos_ B.

105. _a limpar_ A [but cf. 107. _alimpeis_ (A)]; _alimpar_ B; _A
alimpar_ C.

107. _de face_ C.

108. _Vereis seu triste laurado Natural_ A, B, C, D, E. _Esta toalha de
que C. Veronica C. a mostra_ A; _amostra_ B, C. _santa facias_ B.

110. _em [~q] se falla_ B. _a[c,]otes_ B.

112. _tormento_ C. _fala_ A; _falla_ B. _espiniarum_ C. _acabado_ B.

113. _theor_ C.

114. _gran_ C. _tristura_ A, B, C, D, E.

114. _clausos_ B. _acabada a ora[c,][~a]o_ C.

115. _inimigo_ C.

116. _o seu a cujo he_ A, B; _o seu cujo he_ C, D.

118. _oferta_ A; _offerta_ B _crucifixo_ B, C.

119. _spirito_ A, B; _sprito_ C. _tristes louvores_ C, D, E. _dios_ B.

121. _fruta_ B. _a onde_ C. _redemtor_ B. _moymento_ B; _moimento_ C.


FOOTNOTES:

[151] _MDXVIII_. A. Braamcamp Freire.

[152] _pera eterna morada_ B.

[153] _prefigura[c,][~a]_ B.


ENGLISH TRANSLATION:

                           _The Soul's Journey._

_This play was written for the very devout Queen Lianor and played
before the very powerful and noble King Manuel, her brother, by his
command, in the city of Lisbon at the Ribeira palace on the night of
Good Friday in the year 1508._


                               _Argument._

_As it was very necessary that there should be inns upon the roads for
the repose and refreshment of weary wayfarers, so it was fitting that in
this transitory life there should be an innkeeper for the refreshment
and rest of the souls that go journeying to the everlasting abode of
God. This innkeeper of souls is the Holy Mother Church, the table is the
altar, the fare the emblems of the Passion. And this allegory is the
theme of the following play._

(_A table laid, with a chair. The Holy Mother Church comes with her four
doctors, St Thomas, St Jerome, St Ambrose and St Augustine, who says:_)

      1 _St Aug._ Friends, 'twas of necessity
        That upon the gloomy way
        Of this our life
        Some sure refuge there should be
        From the enemy
        And dread dangers that alway
        Therein are rife.
      2 Since man's spirit migratory
        In the journey to its goal
        Is oft oppressed,
        Weary in this transitory
        Path to glory,
        An inn was needed for the soul
        To stay and rest.
      3 An inn provided with its fare,
        In clear light a table spread
        Expectantly,
        And laden with a double share
        Of torments rare
        That the Son of God, His life-blood shed,
        Bought on the Tree.
      4 Since by the covenant of His death
        He gave, to give us Paradise,
        Even His life,
        Unwavering He rendereth
        For us His breath,
        Paying the full required price
        Free from all strife.
      5 His work as man was to enable
        Our Mother Church thus to console,
        Innkeeper lowly,
        And minister at this very table,
        Most serviceable,
        Unto every wayfaring soul,
        With the Father Holy
      6 And its Guardian Angel's care.
        The soul to her protection given
        If, weak with sin
        And yielding almost to despair,
        It onward fare
        And to reach this inn have striven,
        Finds health within.

(_The Guardian Angel comes with the Soul and says:_)

      7 _Angel._ Human soul, by God created
        Out of nothingness yet wrought
        As of great price,
        From corruption separated,
        Sublimated,
        To glorious perfection brought
        By skilled device;
      8 Plant that in this valley growest
        Flowers celestial for to give
        Of fairest scent,
        Hence to that high hill thou goest
        Where thou knowest
        Even than roses graces thrive
        More excellent.
      9 Plant wayfaring, since thy spirit,
        Scarce staying, to its first origin
        Must still begone,
        Thy true country is to inherit
        By thy merit
        That glory that thou mayest win:
        O hasten on.
     10 Soul that art thus trebly blest
        By such angels' love attended,
        Sink not asleep,
        Nor one instant pause nor rest,
        Thou journeyest
        On a way that soon is ended
        If watch thou keep.

     11 _Soul._ Guardian angel, o'er me still
        Keep thy ward that am so frail
        And of the earth,
        On all sides thy watch fulfil
        That nothing kill
        My true wealth nor e'er prevail
        O'er its high worth.
     12 Ever encompass me and shield,
        For this conflict with great fear
        Fills all my sense,
        Noble protector in this field,
        Lest I should yield,
        Let thy gleaming sword be near
        For my defence.
     13 Still uphold me and sustain
        For I fear lest I may stumble,
        Fail and fall.

        _Angel._ Therefore came I, nor in vain,
        Yet amain
        Must thou help me too, and humble
        Resist all:
     14 Even all the world's debate
        Of riches and of vanity,
        Seek thou for grace,
        Since pomp and honour, high estate
        Vainly elate,
        Are but a stumbling-block to thee,
        No resting-place.
     15 Power uncontrolled is thine,
        And an independent will
        Unbound by fate:
        Even so in His might divine
        Did God design
        That thou in glory mightst fulfil
        Thy heavenly state.
     16 He gave thee understanding pure,
        Imparted to thee memory,
        Free will is thine,
        That so thou mayest e'er endure
        With purpose sure,
        Knowing that He has fashioned thee
        To be divine.
     17 And since God knew the mortal frame
        Wherein He placed thee to distil,
        (So to win His praise)
        Was metal weak and prone to shame,
        Therefore I came
        Thee to protect--it was His will--
        And to upraise.
     18 Let us go forth upon our way.
        Turn not thou back, for then indeed
        The enemy
        Upon thy glorious life straightway
        Will make assay.
        But unto Satan pay no heed
        Who lurks for thee.
     19 And still the goal seek thou to win
        Carefully at thy journey's end.
        And be it clear
        That the spirit e'er at watch within
        Against all sin
        Upon salvation's path may wend
        Without a fear.
     20 In snares of Hell that shall waylay,
        Dark and awful wiles among,
        Thee to molest,
        As thou advancest on thy way
        Fall not nor stray,
        But let thy beauty join the throng
        Of spirits blest.

(_The Angel goes forward and the Devil comes to the Soul and says:_)

     21 _Devil._ Whither so swift thy flight,
        Delicate dove most white?
        Who thus deceives thee?
        And weary still doth goad
        Along this road,
        Yea and of human sense,
        Even, bereaves thee?
     22 Seek not to hasten hence
        Since thou hast life and youth
        For further growth.
        There is a time for haste,
        A time for leisure:
        Live at thy will and rest,
        Taking thy pleasure.
     23 Enjoy, enjoy the goods of Earth,
        And great estates seek to possess
        And worldly treasures.
        Who to the hills, exiled from mirth,
        Thus sends thee forth?
        Who speaks to thee of foolishness
        Instead of pleasures?
     24 This life is all a pleasaunce fair,
        Soft, debonair,
        Look for no other paradise:
        Who bids thee seek, with false advice,
        Refuge elsewhere?

     25 _Soul._ Hinder me not here nor stay,
        For far other thoughts are mine.

        _Devil._ To worldly ease thy thought incline
        Since all men incline this way.
     26 And not for nothing are delights,
        And not in vain possessions sent
        And fortune's prize,
        And not for nought are pleasure's rites
        And banquet-nights:
        All these are for man's ornament
        And galliardize;
     27 For mortal men is their array.
        So let delight thy woes assuage,
        Henceforth recline
        And rest, since rest likewise had they
        Who went this way,
        Even this very pilgrimage
        That now is thine.
     28 And whatsoe'er thy body crave,
        Even as thy will desire,
        So let it be;
        And laugh thou at the censors grave,
        Whoso would have
        Thee tortur[`e]d by sufferings dire
        So uselessly.
     29 I would not, being thou, go forth,
        So sad and troubled lies the way,
        'Tis cruelty,
        And thou art of imperial worth
        And royal birth,
        To none thou needest homage pay,
        Then be thou free.

     30 _Angel._ O who thus hinders thee? On, on!
        How loiterest thou on glory's path
        So slowly!
        O God, sole consolation!
        Now is there none
        Who of that victory honour hath
        That is most holy.
     31 Soul, already dost thou tire
        Sinking so soon beneath thy burden?
        Nay, soul, take heart!
        Ah, with what a glowing fire
        Of desire
        Cam'st thou couldst thou see what guerdon
        Were then thy part.
     32 Forward, forward let us go:
        Be of good cheer, O soul made holy
        By this thy strife.

(_The Angel goes forward and Satan returns._)

        _Devil._ But what is all this coil and woe?
        Why to and fro
        Flutterest thou in haste and folly?
        Nay, live thy life.
     33 For very piteous is thy plight,
        Poor, barefoot, ruined utterly,
        In bitterness,
        Carrying nothing to delight
        As thine by right,
        And all thy life is thus to thee
        A thing senseless.
     34 But don this dress, thy arm goes there,
        Put it through now, even thus, now stay
        Awhile. What grace,
        What finery! I do declare
        It pleases me. Now walk away
        A little space.
     35 So: I trow shoes are now thy need
        With a pair from Valencia, fair to see,
        I thee endow.
        Now beautiful, as I decreed,
        Art thou indeed;
        Now fold thy arms presumptuously:
        Ev'n so; and now
     36 Strut airily, show off thy power,
        This way and that and up and down
        Just as thou please;
        Fair now as fairest rose in flower
        Thy beauty's dower,
        And all becomes thee as thine own:
        Now take thine ease.

(_The Angel returns to the Soul, saying:_)

     37 _Angel._ What is this that thou art doing?

        _Soul._ In the world's mirror ev'n as I see
        I do in this.

        _Angel._ O soul, thou compassest thy ruin
        And rushest forward foolishly
        To the abyss.
     38 For every step that onward fares
        One step back, one step aside
        Thou takest still,
        And buyest eagerly the wares
        That pirate bears,
        Even Satan, by thee glorified
        Of thy free will.
     39 O journey onward still with care
        For the Virgin with the elect
        Doth thee await:
        Thou leavest desolate and bare
        Thy kingdom rare,
        And thine own glory dost reject
        And true estate.
     40 But cast these slippers now aside,
        This gaudy dress and its long train,
        Thou art all bowed,
        Lest Death come on thee unespied
        And in thy pride
        These thy desires and trappings vain
        Prove but thy shroud.

     41 _Soul._ Go forward, stretch thy hand
        to save,
        Go forward, I will follow thee
        As best I may.

(_The Angel goes forward and the Devil returns._)

        _Devil._ All things in light of reason grave
        Their seasons have.
        And I to thee will, O lady,
        My counsel say:
     42 There is a time here for delight
        And an age is given for growth,
        Another age
        To tread in lordly triumph's might
        In the world's despite,
        Gaining ease and riches both
        On life's full stage.
     43 It is too early yet to die,
        Time later to repent on earth
        And to seek Heaven.
        Then cease with fashion's rule to vie,
        And quietly
        Enjoy the nature that at birth
        To thee was given.
     44 What, think'st thou, is the use for gold
        And what the use for precious stones
        And for brocade,
        And all these silks so manifold?
        Ah surely hold
        That for the souls, the blessed ones,
        They were all made.
     45 See here a necklace in its pride
        Of skilfully enamelled gold,
        Here are rings ten:
        Now mayst thou win the hearts of men,
        Fit for a bride.
        In this mirror thou mayst behold
        Thyself and see
        That I am not deceiving thee.
     46 And here are ear-rings, put them on
        One in each ear duly now:
        Even so;
        For things thus diligently done
        Prove wisdom won,
        And now I may to thee avow
        That right well pleased I hence shall go.

     47 _Soul._ O how lovely is my state,
        How is it for service meet,
        And for holy adoration!

        _Angel._ Cruel soul and obstinate,
        Rather thereat
        Should I shun thee than still treat
        Of thy salvation.
     48 Earth upon earth is this thy store,
        Since but earth is all this gold.
        O God most high,
        Wherefore permittest thou such war
        That, as of yore,
        To Babel's kingdom from thy fold
        Thy creatures hie?
     49 Was it not easier journeying
        At first, more free than that thou hast
        With all this train,
        Hampered and bowed with many a thing
        That now doth cling
        About thee, but which at the last
        Must here remain?
     50 All is disgorged and left behind
        At the entrance to the tomb.
        Who, holy soul, doth thee thus blind
        Thyself to bind
        With such vain misfortune's doom?

     51 _Soul._ Nay, this doth scarcely on me weigh:
        It is my poor weak mortal nature
        That bows me down.
        So weary am I, I must stay
        Nor go my way,
        So void of grace, so frail a creature
        Am I now grown.
     52 Sir, go thy way: I cannot strive
        Nor hope now further to advance,
        So fallen I.

        _Angel._ But two steps more to where doth live
        She who will give
        To thee celestial sustenance
        Charitably.
     53 Thither shalt thou go and rest,
        And shalt taste there of that fare
        New strength to borrow:
        Unrivalled is that hostess blest
        To give of the best
        To those who weeping come to her,
        Laden with sorrow.

     54 _Soul._ Is it far off?

        _Angel._               Nay, very near.
        Be not downcast, but now be brave,
        And let us go,
        For every remedy and cheer
        Is certain here.
        And whatsoever thou wouldst have
        We can bestow.
     55 Such grace is hers that nought can smirch,
        Such favours will she show to thee,
        That innkeeper.

        _Soul._ Her name?

        _Angel._ The Holy Mother Church.
        And holy doctors thou shalt see
        Are there with her.

     56 Joyful thence shall thy going be,
        Filled then with the Holy Spirit
        And beautified:
        O soul, take heart, courageously
        One step for thee,
        Nay, scarce one step, and thou shalt merit
        To be a bride.

     57 _Devil._ Stay, whither art thou going now?
        Such haste is mere unseemly rage
        And foolishness:
        What, thou so puffed with pride, canst thou
        Thus meekly bow
        To go on churchward e'er old age
        Doth on thee press?
     58 Let pleasure, pleasure rule thy ways,
        For many hours in years to roll
        To thee are given,
        And when death comes to end thy days,
        If prayer thou raise,
        Then all sins that can vex a soul
        Shall be forgiven.
     59 Look to thy wealth and property:
        There is a group of houses should
        Be thine by right,
        Great source of income would they be,
        Unhappily
        At thy parents' death the matter stood
        In no clear light.
     60 The case is simple, 'tis averred
        Such lawsuits in a trice are won
        At laughter's spell:
        Next Tuesday let the case be heard
        And, in a word,
        Finish thou well what is begun.
        Be sensible.

     61 _Soul._ O silence, for the love of God,
        Persecute me no more: thy hate
        Doth it not suffice
        High Heaven's heirs that it hinder should
        From their abode?
        My life to thee early and late
        I sacrifice.
     62 But leave me: so I may efface
        The cruel wrong that shamelessly
        Thou hast thus wrought;
        For now I have scarce breathing-space
        To reach that place
        Where for this poison there may be
        Some antidote.

     63 _Angel._ See the inn: a sure retreat,
        Even for all those a true home
        Who would have life.

        _Church._ O laden with sore toil and heat!
        O tired feet!

        _Soul._ Yea, for I destined was to come
        Weary of strife.

     64 _Church._ Who art thou? whither wouldst thou win?

        _Soul._ I know not whither, outcast, fated
        At fortune's whim,
        A soul unholy, steep[`e]d in
        Its mortal sin,
        Against the God who had created
        Me like to Him.
     65 I am that soul ill-starred, unblest,
        That by nature shone in gleaming
        Robe of white,
        Of angel's beauty once possessed,
        Yea, loveliest,
        Like a ray refulgent streaming
        Filled with light.
     66 And by my ill-omened fate,
        My atrocious devilries,
        Sins treasonous,
        More dead than death is now my state
        Bowed with this weight
        That nought can lighten, vanities
        Most poisonous.
     67 I am a sinner obstinate,
        Perverse, that know no remedy
        For this my plight,
        Oppressed by guilt most obdurate,
        And profligate,
        Inclined to evil constantly
        And all delight.
     68 And I banished from my lore
        All my perfect ornaments
        And natural graces,
        By prudence I set no store
        But evermore
        Rejoiced in all these vile vestments
        And worldly places.
     69 At each step taken in earthly cares
        I further sank away from praise,
        Earning but blame:
        Have mercy upon one who fares
        Lost unawares:
        For, innocence lost, I might not raise
        Myself from shame.
     70 And, for my greater evil, I
        Can no more repent me fully,
        Since in new mood
        My thoughts are mutinous and cry
        For liberty,
        Unwilling to obey me duly
        As once they would.
     71 O help me, lady innkeeper,
        For Satan even now his hand
        Doth on me lay,
        And so grievously I err
        In my despair
        That I know not if I go or stand
        Or backward stray.
     72 Succour thou my helplessness
        And strengthen me with holy fare,
        For I perish,
        Of thy noble saintliness
        Liberal to bless,
        For knowing my deserts I dare
        No hope to cherish.
     73 I acknowledge all my sin
        And before thee meekly thus
        Forgiveness crave.
        O Lady, let me now but win
        Into thine inn,
        Since One suffered even for us,
        That He might save.
     74 Bid me welcome, Mother holy,
        Shield of all who are forsaken
        Utterly.

        _Church._ Enter to thy seat there lowly,
        Yet come slowly,
        For the viands thou seest were baken
        By God most high.
     75 Lo ye my pillars, doctor, saint,
        Ambrose, Thomas and Jerome
        And Augustine,
        In my service wax not faint,
        Nor show constraint,
        And to thee, soul, shall be welcome
        This fare of mine.
     76 To the holy kitchen go:
        Let us this frail soul restore,
        That she find grace
        To reach her journey's end and know
        Her path, that so
        By God brought hither she no more
        Fail in life's race.

(_Meanwhile Satan goes to and fro, cutting many capers, and another
devil comes and says:_)

     77 _2nd D._ You're like a lion in a cage.

        _1st D._ I'm all afire, with anger blind.

        _2nd D._ Why, what's the matter?

        _1st D._ To be so taken in, my rage
        Can nought assuage
        Nor any rest be to my mind;
        For, as I flatter
     78 Myself, I had by honeyed word
        Deceived a certain soul, all quick
        For fires of Hell.

        _2nd D._ Who made you throw it overboard?

        _1st D._ He of the sword.

        _2nd D._ He played just such another trick
        On me as well.
     79 For I had overcome a soul,
        Ready to hang itself, unsteady
        In its despair;
        Yes, it was given to us whole
        And I myself was making ready
        To drag't down there.
     80 And lo he made it weep and weep
        So that the tears ran down along
        The very ground:
        You might have heard my curses deep
        And cries of rage echo among
        The hills around.
     81 But I have hopes that what I've lost
        Some other day I shall regain,
        So will we all.

        _1st D._ I, brother, cannot share your trust,
        But I will tempt this soul again
        Whate'er befall.
     82 With new promises will I woo her
        When from the Church she shall have come
        Forth to the street
        Upon her journey: I will to her,
        And beshrew her
        If I turn not all their triumph
        To defeat.

(_The Soul enters with the Angel._)

     83 _Soul._ O let not thy protection fail me,
        Guardian angel, help thy child.
        O foes most base,
        Infidels, why would you assail me
        Who to my God am reconciled
        And in His grace?
     84 Leave me, O ye tempters, leave
        Unto this most precious feast
        Of Him who died,
        Served to sinners for reprieve
        Of those who grieve
        For their Redeemer Lord, the Christ
        And crucified.

(_While the Soul is seated at the table and the Angel standing by her
side, the Doctors come with four covered kitchen dishes, singing
_Vexilla regis prodeunt_, and after placing them on the table, St
Augustine says:_)

     85 _St Aug._ Lady, thou that to this feast,
        Supper of celestial fare
        Nobly divine,
        Comest as a bidden guest,
        Must now divest
        Thyself of worldly thought and care
        That once were thine.
     86 Thou thy body's eyes must close
        And in fetters sure be tied
        Fierce appetite,
        Treacherous guides, infernal foes:
        Thy ways are those
        That are a safe support and guide
        For the contrite.

     87 _Church._ Sir, by thee be the table blest:
        In thy benedictory prayer,
        To bring relief
        And new strength to this our guest,
        Be there expressed
        The Passion's glory in despair
        And all its grief.
     88 Thou, O soul, with orisons,
        The Virgin's sorrows contemplating
        Abide even there,
        And ye others make response
        Since for this have you been waiting
        Wrapped in prayer.

(_St Augustine's prayer:_)

     89 God whose might on high appears,
        Who camest to this world
        In human guise,
        In this vale of many fears
        And sullen tears
        Thy great glory hast unfurled
        Before our eyes;
     90 And thy Son most delicate
        By His natural majesty
        Of divine birth,
        Ah, in blood and wounds prostrate
        Is now his state
        For our vile infirmity
        And little worth.
     91 O Thou ruler of the sky,
        High God of power divine,
        Enduring might,
        Who for thy creature, man, to die
        Didst not deny
        Thy Godhead, and madest Thine
        Our mortal plight.
     92 And thy daughter, mother, bride,
        Noble flower of the skies,
        The Virgin blest,
        Gentle Dove, when her Son died,
        God crucified,
        Ah what tears shed by those eyes
        Her grief attest.
     93 O most precious tears that well
        From that virgin heart distilled
        One by one,
        Flowing at thy sorrow's spell
        They those perfect eyes have filled
        And still flow on.
     94 Who but one of them might have
        In it most manifestly
        That grief to prove,
        Even that woe and suffering grave
        Which then overwhelm[`e]d thee
        For thy dear love.
     95 Fainting then with grief if failed
        Thy tears, yet Him they might not fail,
        Thy Life, thy Son,
        Who unto the Cross was nailed,
        Even fresh tears that could avail,
        In prayer begun.
     96 For far greater woe was His
        When He saw thee faint and languish
        In thy distress,
        More than His own agonies,
        And doubled is
        All His torture at thy anguish
        Measureless.
     97 For no words have ever told
        No prayer or litany wailed
        Such grief and loss:
        Our weak thought may not enfold
        Nor thee behold
        As thou wert when He was nailed
        Upon the Cross.
     98 For to thee, O lovely face,
        Wherein Heaven's beauty shone,
        What woe was given
        When the Cross on high they place
        And thereupon
        Nail[`e]d the Son of Heaven,
        Even thy Son!
     99 Over the crowd's heads on high
        He who was ever thy delight
        Came to thy sight,
        To the Cross nail[`e]d cruelly,
        Thou standing by,
        Thou the mother of Him who died
        There crucified!
    100 O frail Queen of Holiness,
        Who would not thus weep to see
        Thee fainting fall
        And lie there all motionless,
        Thou patroness
        Who dost still uphold and free
        The life of all!

    101 _St Ambrose._ Thus of yore did Jeremiah
        On Mount Sion make lament
        In days long spent,
        For he knew that the Messiah
        Was for our salvation sent.
    102 And he mourned the misery
        Of ill-starred Jerusalem,
        The murderess,
        Who should kill unnaturally
        Her God born in Bethlehem
        Our life to bless.

    103 _St Jerome._ O the Holy Lamb to see
        Humble amid the wolves' despite,
        With mockery fraught,
        Condemned to suffer cruelly
        Upon the Tree,
        And that face, so fair and white,
        Thus set at nought!

        _St Augustine. (He blesses the table.)_

    104 The Eternal Father's blessing rest,
        And of the Son, who suffered thus
        Even for us,
        And of the Spirit holiest,
        On thee our guest:
        Spirit immortal, Father, Son,
        The Three in One.

    105 _Church._ Come now, bring water for the hands.

        _St Aug._ But thou must wash in tear on tear
        Shed for thy past sins' misery,
        Most thoroughly,
        And then to this fair towel here
        Thou mayst draw near,
        A towel that is kept for thee
        Worked cunningly
    106 With finest silk in painlessness
        From out the Holy Virgin's veins
        That issu[`e]d,
        Silk that was spun in bitterness
        And dark distress,
        And woven with increasing pains
        And finish[`e]d.
    107 Yet never shall thine eyes be dried:
        This pattern sad will ever make
        Thy tears downflow,
        Such stitches here on either side
        Doth it provide
        That one's very heart must break
        To see such woe.
    108 Presented here thou mayest see
        With lovely face most natural
        --And seeing weep--
        Embroider[`e]d with agony,
        O mystery!
        God fashioned, who created all,
        In human shape.

(_The towel here described is the veronica, which St Augustine takes
from among the dishes and shows to the Soul, and the Mother Church and
the Doctors adore it on their knees, singing _Salve sancta Facies_, and
the Mother Church then says:_)

    109 _Church._ Let the first viand be
        brought.

        _St Jerome._ It was prepar[`e]d joylessly
        On a sad day,
        With no pleasure was it fraught,
        With suffering bought,
        And its cook was Cruelty,
        Eager to slay.
    110 With seasoning of tears and shame
        Must this course by thee be eaten,
        Sorrowfully,
        Since the Messiah's holy frame,
        Pure, free from blame,
        Cruelly was scourged and beaten
        For love of thee.

(_The viand so described consists of the scourge which at this stage is
taken from the dishes and presented to the Soul and all kneel and adore,
singing _Ave flagellum_; and Jerome then says:_)

    111 _St Jerome._ This second viand of noble worth,
        This delicacy,
        Must be slowly eaten by thee
        In contemplation
        Of what the Lord of all the earth
        In agony
        Suffer[`e]d for thy salvation.
    112 This new torture suddenly
        He allowed to reach His brain,
        That so thy wit
        And sense might be restored to thee,
        That perished from thee utterly,
        Yea that thou Paradise mightst gain
        Endured He it.

(_This second viand so described is the crown of thorns, and at this
stage they take it from the plates, and kneeling the holy Doctors sing
_Ave corona spinarum_ and afterwards the Mother Church says:_)

    113 _Church._ Another bring in the same strain.

        _St Jerome._ This third viand that is brought to thee
        Was prepared thrice
        In places three, in each with gain
        Of subtler pain,
        With the wood of the Holy Tree,
        Wood of great price.
    114 It must be eaten sorrowfully,
        Since the Virgin glorious
        Saw it garnished,
        Her treasure nail[`e]d cruelly
        Then did she see,
        And her pearl most precious
        Pierced and tarnished.

(_At this station St Augustine brings the nails and all kneel and adore
them, singing _Dulce lignum, dulcis clavus_, and when the adoration is
ended the Angel says to the Soul:_)

    115 _Angel._ These trappings must thou
        lay aside,
        This new fare cannot, thou must know,
        Be eaten thus:
        By them are men's souls vilified
        And in their pride
        Puffed up with overweening show
        Presumptuous.

(_The Soul casts off the dress and jewels that the enemy gave her._)

    116 _St Augustine._ O soul, well counselled! well bestowed
        To each what is of each by right,
        And earth to earth:
        Now shalt thou speed along thy road,
        Free of this load,
        Faring by faith from this stern fight
        Victorious forth.

    117 _Church._ To the last course I thee
        invite.

        _St Jerome._ This fourth viand is of a kind
        So season[`e]d,
        It is of value infinite,
        Most exquisite,
        Prepared by the Divine mind
        And perfected:
    118 Entrusted first in mystery
        To a holy virgin came from Heaven
        This secret thing,
        Encompassed by divinity
        And sanctity,
        Then to the Eternal Father given
        As offering.

(_St Jerome presents to the Soul a Crucifix, which he takes from among
the dishes, and the Doctors adore it, singing _Domine Jesu Christe_, and
afterwards the Soul says:_)

    119 _Soul._ With what heart and mind contrite
        May I praise Thee sadly now
        Who am nought,
        Seeing Thee, God infinite,
        To such plight
        Of suffering and sorrow bow,
        By my sin brought!
    120 Lord, how art Thou crushed and broken,
        Thou, the Son of God, to die!
        And Thy death
        By whom ordered, by what token
        The word spoken
        Thee to judge and crucify,
        Who gav'st us breath?

    121 _St Aug._ For the fruit to end this feast,
        On the altar given thee thus
        Lovingly,
        To the orchard go we all in quest,
        Where lies at rest
        The Redeemer, He who died for us
        And set us free.

(_And all with the Soul, singing _Te deum laudamus_, went to adore the
tomb._)

                                LAVS DEO.




EXHORTA[C,][~A]O DA GUERRA


                      _Exhorta[c,][~a]o da Guerra[154]._

_Interlocutores_: [p] Nigromante, ZEBRON, DANOR, Diabos, POLICENA,
PANTASILEA, ARCHILES, ANIBAL, EYTOR, CEPIAM.

_A Tragicomedia seguinte seu nome he Exorta[c,][~a]o da guerra. Foi
representada ao muyto alto & nobre Rey dom Manoel o primeyro em Portugal
deste nome na sua cidade de Lixboa na partida pera Azamor do illustre &
muy magnifico senhor d[~o] Gemes Duque de Bargan[c,]a & de Guimar[~a]es,
&c. Era de M.D.xiiij annos._

[p] _Entra primeyramente hum clerigo nigromante & diz:_

        CL. Famosos & esclarecidos
        principes mui preciosos,
        na terra vitoriosos
        & no ceo muyto queridos,
      5 sou clerigo natural
        de Portugal,
        venho da coua Sebila
        onde se esmera & estila
        a sotileza infernal.
     10 E venho muy copioso
        magico & nigromante,
        feyticeyro muy galante,
        astrologo bem auondoso.
        Tantas artes diabris
     15 saber quis
        que o mais forte diabo
        darey preso polo rabo
        ao iffante Dom Luis.
        Sey modos dencantamentos
     20 quaes nunca soube ninguem,
        artes para querer bem,
        remedios a pensamentos.
        Farey de hum cora[c,]am duro
        mais que muro
     25 como brando leytoayro,
        e farei polo contrayro
        que seja sempre seguro.
        Sou muy grande encantador,
        fa[c,]o grandes marauilhas,
     30 as diabolicas sillas
        sam todas em meu favor:
        farey cousas impossiveis
        muy terribeis,
        milagres muy euidentes
     35 que he pera pasmar as gentes,
        visiueis & invisiueis.
        Farey que h[~u]a dama esquiua
        por mais [c,]afara que seja
        quando o galante a veja
     40 que ella folgue de ser viua;
        farey a dous namorados
        mui penados
        questem cada hum per si,
        & cousas farey aqui
     45 que estareis marauilhados.
        Farey por meo vintem
        que h[~u]a dama muito fea
        que de noyte sem candea
        nam pare[c,]a mal nem bem;
     50 e outra fermosa & bella
        como estrella
        farey por sino for[c,]ado
        que qualquer homem h[~o]rrado
        nam lhe pesasse um ella.
     55 Faruos ey mais pera verdes,
        por esconjuro perfeyto,
        que caseis todos a eyto
        o milhor que vos poderdes;
        e farey da noite dia
     60 per pura nigromanciia
        se o sol alumear,
        & farey yr polo ar
        toda a van fantesia.
        Faruos ey todos dormir
     65 em quanto o sono vos durar
        & faruos ey acordar
        sem a terra vos sentir;
        e farey hum namorado
        bem penado
     70 se amar bem de verdade
        que lhe dure essa vontade
        atee ter outro cuydado.
        Faruos ey que desejeis
        cousas que est[~a]o por fazer,
     75 e faruos ey receber
        na hora que vos desposeis,
        e farey que esta cidade
        estee pedra sobre pedra,
        e farey que quem nam medra
     80 nunca t[~e] prosperidade.
        Farey per magicas rasas
        chuuas tam desatinadas
        que estem as telhas deytadas
        pelos telhados das casas;
     85 e farey a torre da See,
        assi grande como he,
        per gra[c,]a da sua clima
        que tenha o alicesse ao pee
        & as ameas em cima.
     90 Nam me quero mais gabar.
        Nome de San Cebriam
        esconjurote Satam.
        Senhores n[~a]o espantar!
        Zeet zeberet zerregud zebet
     95 oo filui soter
        rehe zezegot relinzet
        oo filui soter
        oo chaues das profundezas
        abri os porros da terra!
    100 Princepe[*] da eterna treua
        pare[c,]am tuas grandezas!
        conjurote Satanas,
        onde estaas,
        polo bafo dos drag[~o]es,
    105 pola ira dos li[~o]es,
        polo valle de Jurafas.
        Polo fumo pe[c,]onhento
        que sae da tua cadeyra
        e pola ardente fugueyra,
    110 polo lago do tormento
        esconjurote Satam,
        de cora[c,]am,
        zezegot seluece soter,
        conjurote, Lucifer,
    115 que ou[c,]as minha ora[c,]am.
        Polas neuoas ardentes
        que estam nas tuas moradas,
        pollas po[c,]as pouoadas
        de bibaras & serpentes,
    120 e pello amargo tormento
        muy sem tento
        que daas aos encacerados,
        pollos grytos dos danados
        que nunca cessam momento:
    125 conjurote, Berzebu,
        pola ceguidade Hebrayca
        e polla malicia Judayca,
        com a qual te alegras tu,
        rezeegut Linteser
    130 zamzorep tisal
        siroofee nafezeri.

_V[^e]m os diabos Zebron & Danor & diz Zebron:_

        _Z._ Que has tu, escomungado?

        _C._ Oo yrm[~a]os, venhaes embora!

        _D._ Que nos queres tu agora?

    135 _C._ Que me fa[c,]aes hum mandado.

        _Z._ Polo altar de Satam,
        dom vilam.

        _D._ Tomoo por essas gadelhas
        & cortemoslhe as orelhas,
    140 que este clerigo he ladram.

        _C._ Manos, nam me fa[c,]aes mal,
        Compadres, primos, amigos!

        _Z._ N[~a]o te temos em dous figos.

        _C._ Como vay a Belial?
    145 sua corte estaa em paz?

        _D._ Dalhe aramaa hum bofete,
        crismemos este rapaz
        & chamemoslhe Zopete.

        _C._ Ora fallemos de siso:
    150 estais todos de saude?

        _Z._ Fideputa, meo almude,
        que t[~e]s tu de ver com isso?

        _C._ Minhas potencias relaxo
        & me abaxo,
    155 falayme doutra maneyra.

        _D._ Sois bispo vos da Landeyra
        ou vigayro no Cartaxo?

        _Z._ He Cura do Lumear,
        sochantre da Mealhada,
    160 acipreste de canada,
        bebe sem desfolegar.

        _D._ ['E] capel[~a]o terrantees,
        bom Ingres,
        patriarca em Ribatejo
    165 beberaa sobre hum cangrejo
        as guelas d[~u] Frances.

        _Z._ Danor, dime, he Cardeal
        Darruda ou de Caparica?

        _D._ Nenh[~u]a cousa lhe fica
    170 senam sempre o vaso tal,
        tem um grande Arcebispado
        muito honrrado
        junto da pedra da estrema
        onda p[~o]e a diadema
    175 & a mitra o tal prelado.
        Ladram, sabes o Seyxal
        & Almada & pereli?
        Oo fideputa alfaqui
        albardeyro do Tojal.

    180 _C._ Diabos, quereis fazer
        o que eu quiser
        por bem ou de outra fey[c,]am?

        _D._ Oo fideputa ladram
        auemoste dobedecer.

    185 _C._ Ora eu vos mando & remando
        pollas virtudes dos ceos
        polla potencia de Deos,
        em cujo serui[c,]o ando,
        conjurouos da sua parte
    190 sem mais arte
        que fa[c,]ais o que eu mandar
        polla terra & pollo ar,
        aqui & em toda a parte.

        _Z._ Como te vai com as ter[c,]as?
    195 ['E] viuo aquelle alifante
        que foy a Roma t[~a]o galante?

        _D._ Amargamte a ti estas ver[c,]as?

        _C._ Esconjurote, Danor,
        por amor de sam Paulo
    200 e de sam Polo.

        _Z._ Tu n[~a]o tens nenhum miolo.

        _C._ Eu vos farey vir a dor.
        Por esta madre de Deos
        de t[~a]o alta dinidade,
    205 & polla sua humildade,
        com que abrio os altos ceos,
        polas veas virginaes
        emperiaes
        de que Christo foi humanado.

    210 _Z._ Que queres, escomungado?
        Mandanos, nam digas mais.

        _C._ Minha merce m[~a]da & ordena
        que tragais logo essas horas
        diante destas senhoras
    215 a Troyana Policena
        muyto bem atauiada
        & concertada,
        assi linda como era.

        _D._ Quanta pancada te dera
    220 se pudera,
        mas t[~e]sma for[c,]a quebrada.

        _C._ Venha por mar ou por terra
        logo muyto sem referta.

        _Z._ E a ter[c,]a da offerta
    225 tambem pagas pera a guerra?

        _C._ Trazei logo a Policena
        muy sem pena
        com sua festa diante.

        _Z._ Inda yraa outro alifante:
    230 pagaraas quarto & vintena.

_Vem Policena & diz:_

        _P._ Eu que venho aqui fazer?
        Oo que gran pena me destes
        pois por for[c,]a me trouxestes
        a um nouo padecer:
    235 que quem viue sem ventura,
        em gram tristura
        ver prazeres lhee mais morte.
        Oo belenissima corte,
        senhora da fermosura!
    240 Nam foy o pa[c,]o Troyano
        dino de vosso primor:
        vejo hum Priamo mayor
        hum Cesar muy soberano,
        outra Ecuba mais alta,
    245 mui sem falta,
        em poderosa, doce, humana,
        a quem por Febo & Diana
        cada vez Deos mais esmalta.
        E vos, Principe excelente,
    250 dayme aluisaras liberais,
        que vossas mostras s[~a]o tais
        que todo mundo he contente,
        e aos planetas dos ceos
        mandou Deos
    255 que vos dessem tais fauores
        que em grandeza sejais vos
        prima dos antecessores.
        Por vos, mui fermosa flor,
        Iffante Dona Isabel
    260 Foram juntos em torpel
        por mandando do senhor
        o ceo & sua companhia
        & julgou Jupiter juiz
        que fosseis Emperatriz
    265 de Castella & Alemanha.
        Senhor Iffante Dom Fern[~a]do,
        vosso sino he de prudencia,
        Mercurio per excelencia
        fauorece vosso bando,
    270 sereis rico & prosperado
        e descansado,
        sem cuydado & sem fadiga,
        & sem guerra & sem briga:
        isto vos estaa guardado.
    275 Iffante Dona Breatiz,
        vos sois dos sinos julgada
        que aueis de ser casada
        nas partes de flor de lis:
        mais bem do que vos cuydais,
    280 muyto mais,
        vos tem o mundo guardado.
        Perdey, senhores, cuydado
        pois com Deos tanto priuais.

        _C._ Que dizeis vos destas rosas,
    285 deste val de fermosura?

        _P._ Tal fora minha ventura
        como ellas sam de fermosas!
        Oo que corte tam lozida
        & guarnecida
    290 de lindezas para olhar!
        quem me pudera ficar
        nesta gloriosa vida!

        _D._ Nesta vida! la acharaas.

        _P._ Quem me trouxe a este fado?

    295 _D._ Esse zote escomungado
        te trouxe aqui onde estaas.
        Perguntalhe que te quer
        para ver.

        _P._ Homem, a que me trouxeste?

    300 _C._ Quee? ainda agora vieste
        e has me de responder!
        Declara a estes senhores,
        pois foste damor ferida,
        qual achaste nesta vida
    305 que ['e] a moor dor das dores,
        e se as penas infernaes
        se sam aas do amor yguaes,
        ou se dam la mais tormentos
        dos que ca dam pensamentos
    310 e as penas que nos daes.

        _P._ Muyto triste padecer
        no inferno sinto eu
        mas a dor que o amor me deu
        nunca a mais pude esqueecer.

    315 _C._ Que manhas, que gentileza
        ha de ter o bom galante?

        _P._ A primeyra he ser constante,
        fundado todo em firmeza;
        nobre, secreto, calado,
    320 soffrido em ser desda[~n]ado,
        sempre aberto o cora[c,][~a]o
        pera receber payx[~a]o
        mas nam pera ser mudado.
        Ha de ser mui liberal,
    325 todo fundado em franqueza,
        esta he a mor gentileza
        do amante natural:
        porque ['e] tam desuiada
        ser o escasso namorado
    330 como estar fogo em geada
        ou h[~u]a cousa pintada
        ser o mesmo encorporado.
        Ha de ser o seu comer
        dous bocados suspirando
    335 & dormir meo velando
        sem de todo adormecer.
        Ha de ter muy doces modos,
        humano, cortessa todos,
        seruir sem esperar della,
    340 que quem ama com cautela
        n[~a]o segue a t[~e][c,]am dos Godos.

        _C._ Qual he a cousa principal
        porque deue ser amado?

        _P._ Que seja mui esfor[c,]ado,
    345 isto he o que mais lhe val.
        Porque hum velho dioso,
        feo e muyto tossegoso,
        se na guerra tem boa fama
        com a mais fermosa dama
    350 merece de ser ditoso.
        Senhores guerreyros, guerreyros!
        & vos senhoras guerreyras
        bandeyras & n[~a]o gorgueyras
        lauray pera os caualeyros.
    355 Que assi nas guerras Troy[~a]s
        eu mesma & minhas irma[~a]s
        teciamos os estandartes
        bordados de todas partes
        com diuisas mui louca[~a]s.
    360 Com cantares e alegrias
        dauamos nossos colares
        e nossas joias a pares
        per essas capitanias.
        Renegay dos desfiados
    365 & dos pontos enleuados
        destruase aquella terra
        dos perros arrenegados.
        Oo quem vio Pantasileea
        com quarenta mil donzellas,
    370 armadas como as estrellas
        no campo de Palomea.

        _C._ Venha aqui: trazeyma ca.

        _Z._ Deyxanos yeramaa.

        _C._ Ora sus, questais fazendo?

    375 _D._ O' diabo que teu encomendo
        & quem tal poder te daa.

_Entra Pantiselea e diz:_

        _P._ Que quereis e esta chorosa
        rainha Pantasilea,
        aa penada, triste, fea,
    380 pera corte tam fermosa?
        Porque me quereis vos ver
        diante vosso poder,
        rey das grandes marauilhas
        que com pequenas quadrilhas
    385 venceis quem quereis vencer?
        Se eu, senhor, forra me vira,
        do inferno solta agora,
        e fora de mi senhora,
        meu senhor, eu vos seruira,
    390 empregara bem meus dias
        em vossas capitanias,
        & minha frecha dourada
        fora bem auenturada
        & nam nas guerras vazias.
    395 Oo famoso Portugal
        conhece teu bem profundo,
        pois atee o Polo segundo
        chega o teu poder real.
        Auante, auante, senhores,
    400 pois que com grandes favores
        todo o ceo vos fauorece:
        el Rey de Fez esmorece,
        & Marrocos daa clamores.
        Oo deixay de edificar
    405 tantas camaras dobradas
        Muy pintadas & douradas.
        Que he gastar sem prestar.
        Alabardas, alabardas!
        espingardas, espingardas!
    410 Nam queyrais ser Genoeses
        senam muyto Portugueses
        & morar em casas pardas.
        Cobray fama de ferozes,
        nam de ricos, que he perigosa,
    415 douray a patria vossa
        com mais nozes que as vozes.
        Auante, auante Lisboa!
        que por todo mundo soa
        tua prospera fortuna:
    420 pois que fortuna temfuna
        faze sempre de pessoa.
        Archiles, que foy daqui
        de perto desta cidade,
        chamay-o: diraa a verdade
    425 se n[~a]o quereis crer a mi.

        _C._ Ora sus, sus digo eu.

        _Z._ Este clerigo he sandeu.
        Onde estou que o nam crismo!
        oo fideputa judeu
    430 queres vazar o abismo?

_Vem Archiles & diz:_

        _A._ Quando Jupiter estaua
        em toda sua fortaleza
        & seu gran poder reynaua
        & seu bra[c,]o dominaua
    435 os cursos da natureza;
        quando Martes influya
        seus rayos de vencimento
        & suas for[c,]as repartia;
        quando Saturno dormia
    440 com todo seu firmamento;
        e quando o Sol mais lozia
        & seus rayos apuraua
        & a L[~u]a aparecia
        mais clara que o meo dia;
    445 & quando Venus c[~a]taua,
        e quando Mercurio estaua
        mais pronto em dar sapiencia;
        & quando o ceo se alegraua
        & o mar mais manso estaua
    450 & os ventos em clemencia;
        e quando os sinos estauam
        com mais gloria & alegria
        & os poolos senfeytauam
        & as nuu[~e]s se tirauam
    445 & a luz resplandecia;
        e quando a alegria vera
        foy em todas naturezas,
        nesse dia, mes & era
        quando tudo isto era
    460 naceram vossas altezas.
        Eu Archiles fuy criado
        nesta terra muytos dias
        & sam bem auenturado
        ver este reyno exal[c,]ado
    465 & honrrado por tantas vias.
        Oo nobres seus naturaes,
        por Deos nam vos descudees,
        lembreuos que triumphaes;
        oo prelados, nam dormais!
    470 clerigos, nam murmureis!
        Quando Roma a todas velas
        conquistaua toda a terra
        todas, donas & donzelas,
        dauam suas joyas belas
    475 pera manter os da guerra.
        Oo pastores da Ygreja
        moura a ceyta de Mafoma,
        ajuday a tal peleja
        que a[c,]outados vos veja
    480 sem apelar pera Roma.
        Deueis devender as ta[c,]as,
        empenhar os breuiayros,
        fazer vasos de caba[c,]as
        & comer p[~a]o & raba[c,]as
    485 por vencer vossos contrayros.

        _Z._ Assi, assi, aramaa!
        dom zote, que te parece?

        _C._ E a mi que se me daa?
        quem de seu renda nam ha
    490 as ter[c,]as pouco lhe empece.

        _A._ Se viesse aqui Anibal
        e Eytor e Cepiam
        vereis o que vos diram
        das cousas de Portugal
    495 com verdade & com razam.

        _C._ Sus Danor, e tu Zebram:
        venham todos tres aqui.

        _D._ Fideputa, rapaz, cam,
        perro, clerigo, ladram!

    500 _Z._ Mao pesar vejeu de ti.

_Vem Anibal, Eytor, Cepiam & diz Anibal:_

        _A._ Que cousa tam escusada
        he agora aqui Anibal,
        que vossa corte he afamada
        per todo mundo em geral.

    505 _E._ Nem Eytor nam faz mister.

        _C._ Nem tampouco Cepiam.

        _A._ Deueis, senhores, esperar
        em Deos que vos ha de dar
        toda Africa na vossa m[~a]o.
    510 Africa foi de Christ[~a]os,
        Mouros vola tem roubada:
        Capit[~a]es, pondelhas m[~a]os,
        que vos vireis mais lou[c,][~a]os
        com famosa nomeada.
    515 Oo senhoras Portuguesas,
        gastay pedras preciosas,
        donas, donzelas, duquesas,
        que as taes guerras & empresas
        sam propriamente vossas.
    520 ['E] guerra de deua[c,]am
        por honrra de vossa terra,
        commettida com rezam,
        formada com descri[c,]am
        contra aquella gente perra.
    525 Fazey contas de bugalhos,
        & perlas de camarinhas,
        firmaes de cabe[c,]as dalhos;
        isto si, senhoras minhas,
        & esses que tendes daylhos.
    530 Oo [~q] nam honrram vestidos
        nem muy ricos atauios
        mas os feytos nobrecidos,
        nam briaes douro tecidos
        com trepas de desuarios:
    535 dayos pera capacetes.
        & vos, priores honrrados,
        reparti os Priorados
        a soy[c,]os & soldados,
        _& centum pro vno accipietis_.
    540 A renda que apanhais
        o milhor que vos podeis
        nas ygrejas nam gastais,
        aos proues pouca dais,
        eu nam sey que lhe fazeis.
    545 Day a ter[c,]a do que ouuerdes
        pera Africa conquistar
        com mais prazer que poderdes,
        que quanto menos tiuerdes
        menos tereis que guardar.
    550 Oo senhores cidad[~a]os
        Fidalgos & regedores
        escutay os atambores
        com ouuidos de Christ[~a]os!
        E a gente popular
    555 auante! nam refusar!
        Ponde a vida & a fazenda,
        porque pera tal contenda
        ninguem deue recear.

_Todas estas figuras se ordenaram em caracol & a vozes cantaram &
representaram o que se segue, cantando todos:_

        Ta la la la lam, ta la la la lam.

    560 _A._ Auante, auante! senhores!
        que na guerra com razam
        anda Deos de capitam.

        _C[~a]t[~a]._ Ta la la la lam, ta la la la lam.

        _A._ Guerra, guerra, todo estado!
    565 guerra, guerra muy cruel!
        que o gran Rey Dom Manoel
        contra Mouros estaa viado.
        Tem promettido & jurado
        dentro no seu cora[c,]am
    570 que poucos lhescapar[~a]o.

        _C[~a]t[~a]._ Ta la la la lam, ta la la la lam.

        _Anfalado._ Sua Alteza detremina
        por acrescentar a fee
        fazer da Mesquita See
    575 em Fez por gra[c,]a diuina.
        Guerra, guerra muy contina
        he sua grande ten[c,]am.

        _C[~a]t[~a]._ Ta la la la lam, ta la la la lam.

        _A._ Este Rey tam excelente,
    580 muyto bem afortunado,
        tem o mundo rodeado
        doriente ao Ponente:
        Deos mui alto, omnipotente,
        o seu real cora[c,]am
    585 tem posto na sua m[~a]o.

        _C[~a]t[~a]._ Ta la la la lam, ta la la la lam.

_E com esta soy[c,]a se sayram e fenece a susodita Tragicomedia._


NOTES:

0. _Era de M.D.xiiij_ A. 1513 C, D, E.

25. _leituairo_ C.

100. _Princepes_ A.

117. _estan_ A.

118. _pocas_ A.

119. _viboras_ C.

131. _Lis['o] f['e]_ C.

148. _zobete_ C.

167. _Cardial_ C.

221. _tens-me a_ C.

238. _bellenissima_ C.

260. _tropel_ C.

346. _idoso_ C.

347. _muito socegado_ C.

375. _['O] Diabo qu'eu t'encommendo_ C.

515. _senhores Portugueses_ A.


FOOTNOTES:

[154] This play was omitted in B.


ENGLISH TRANSLATION:

                        _Exhortation to War._

_Dramatis personae_: A necromancer, ZEBRON and DANOR, devils, POLYXENA,
PENTHESILEA, ACHILLES, HANNIBAL, HECTOR, SCIPIO.

_The following tragicomedy is called Exhortation to War. It was played
before the very high and noble King Dom Manuel I of Portugal in his city
of Lisbon on the departure for Azamor of the illustrious and very
magnificent Lord Dom James, Duke of Braganza, Guimar[~a]es, etc., in the
year 1513._

[p] _A necromancer priest first enters and says:_

        Princes of most noble worth,
        To whom high renown is given,
        Who, victorious on earth,
        Are beloved of God in Heaven,
      5 I a priest am and my home
        Is Portugal,
        From the Sibyl's cave I come
        Where fumes diabolical
        Are distilled and brought to birth.
     10 In magic and necromancy
        I'm a skilled practitioner,
        A most accomplished sorcerer,
        Well versed in astrology.
        In so many a devil's art
     15 Would I have part
        That o'er the strongest I'll prevail
        And just seize him by the tail
        And hand him to prince Luis there.
        Sorcerers of past time ne'er
     20 Knew the enchantments that I know,
        Ways of making love to grow
        And of freeing from love's care.
        For of hearts I will take one
        Harder than stone
     25 And will it soft as syrup make,
        And so change others, to changes prone,
        That nothing shall their firmness shake.
        Truly a great wizard I
        And great marvels can I work,
     30 All the powers of Hell that lurk
        Favour me exceedingly,
        As deeds impossible shall attest
        Of awful shape,
        Miracles most manifest
     35 Such that all shall see and gape,
        Visibly and invisibly.
        For I'll make a lady coy,
        Though love's guerdon she defer,
        If her lover look on her,
     40 The very breath of life enjoy;
        And two lovers, love's curse under
        Kept asunder,
        Will I leave to grieve apart,
        And achieve by this my art
     45 Things at which you'll gaze in wonder.
        For a lady most ungainly
        For a halfpenny at night
        Will I cause without a light
        To look nor ill nor well too plainly.
     50 To another loveliest,
        As star in heaven
        Shall this destiny be given
        That of noblest men and best
        None against her love protest.
     55 And the better to display
        The perfection of my spell
        I'll cause you all to marry well,
        That is, I mean, as best you may;
        And I'll turn night into day
     60 All by this good art of mine,
        If the sun should chance to shine,
        And, too, light as air shall be
        Every foolish fantasy.
        I will cause you all to sleep
     65 While sleep has you in its keeping,
        And I'll cause you to awake
        Without therefore the earth quaking;
        And a lover by the thorn
        Of love forlorn
     70 If most real be his love
        I will make his fancy prove
        Steadfast till it be forsworn.
        I will make you wish to see
        Things which scarcely can be parried,
     75 And when each of you is married
        Then truly shall his wedding be.
        And I'll make this city stand
        Stone o'er stone on either hand,
        And that those who do not flourish
     80 No prosperity shall nourish.
        For my magic art's more proof
        I'll bring mighty rains whereat
        All the tiles shall lie down flat
        Above the houses, on the roof.
     85 And the great Cathedral tower
        For all its size will I uproot
        And despite its special power
        Its battlements on high will put,
        Its foundation at its foot.
     90 In my praise no more be said.
        In St Cyprian's name most holy,
        Satan, I conjure thee.
        (Gentlemen, be not afraid.)

        Zeet zeberet zerregud zebet
     95 oo filui soter
        rehe zezegot relinzet
        oo filui soter.

        Keys of the depths, abysses rending,
        Open up Earth's every pore!
    100 Prince of Darkness never-ending,
        Show thy great works evermore!
        Satan, wheresoe'er thou be,
        I conjure thee
        By the mighty dragons' breath
    105 And the raging lions' roar
        And Jehoshaphat's vale of death.
        By the smoke that issueth
        Poisonous from out thy chair,
        By the fire that none may slake,
    110 By the torments of thy lake,
        From my heart right earnestly
        Satan, I conjure thee,
        Zezegot seluece soter,
        Unto thee my prayer I make,
    115 Lucifer, listen to my prayer!
        By the mists of liquid fire
        That thy regions drear distil,
        By the vipers, snakes that fill
        All its wells, abysses dire,
    120 By the pangs relentlessly
        Given by thee
        To the prisoners of thy pit,
        By the shrieks of those in it
        That unceasing echo still,
    125 Beelzebub, I thee invite
        By the blindness of the Jews
        Who the wrong in malice choose
        And thereby thy heart delight
        rezeegut Linteser
    130 zamzorep tisal
        siroofee nafezeri.

_The devils Zebron and Danor come and Zebron says:_

        _Z._ What's the matter, priest accursed?

        _P._ Welcome, brothers, welcome first.

        _D._ What now with us wouldst thou have?

    135 _P._ That my bidding you should do.

        _Z._ By Satan's altar, this thou'lt rue,
        Arrogant knave.

        _D._ Come, I'll seize him by the hair
        And off with his ears at least,
    140 For a robber is this priest.

        _P._ Hurt me not, good brothers, cease,
        Comrades, cousins, friends, I pray.

        _Z._ Not two figs for you we care.

        _P._ How is Belial to-day?
    145 And his court, is it at peace?

        _D._ With a box o' the ear chastise him,
        Even so will we baptise him
        And we'll christen him a fool.

        _P._ Come, let's speak more seriously:
    150 Are you all quite well and cool?

        _Z._ Villain, wineskin, Bacchus' tool,
        What has that to do with thee?

        _P._ Nay, my powers I'll efface,
        Myself abase,
    155 Only speak not thus to me.

        _D._ Do you hold Landeira's see
        Or are you Cartaxo's vicar?

        _Z._ He's priest of Lumear, I think,
        Mealhada's precentor he,
    160 Archpriest of a pint of liquor
        Since he ceases not to drink.

        _D._ And this chaplain of our town
        Is a good Englishman, for mark,
        This Ribatejo Patriarch
    165 Will drink even a Frenchman down,
        And nothing think of it at all.

        _Z._ Danor, say, is he Cardinal
        Of Arruda or Caparica?

        _D._ He has nought left thin or thick
    170 Save always his glass of liquor
        And a great Archbishopric,
        An honour given but to few
        Near the boundary stone, the same
        On which he sets his diadem,
    175 This prelate, and his mitre too.
        Dost thou know Seixal, thou thief,
        Almada and thereabouts?
        Tojal packsaddler, of louts
        And of villain knaves the chief.

    180 _P._ Devils, will you now in brief
        My bidding do
        Or must I take other ways with you?

        _D._ Curs[`e]d robber, only say
        What you'd have and we'll obey.

    185 _P._ I command you instantly
        By the power of the sky
        And the might of God on high,
        In whose service priest I am,
        I conjure you in His name
    190 That you my behests obey
        Now straightway,
        On the earth and in the air,
        Here and there and everywhere.

        _Z._ How are the tithes, and--another matter--
    195 Is the fine elephant alive
        That went to Rome for the Pope to shrive?

        _D._ Are your feelings hurt by this chatter?

        _P._ Danor, now I conjure thee
        By Saint Pol and by Saint Paul
    200 Hearken to me.

        _Z._ Your intelligence is small.

        _P._ Then shall you hark unwillingly.
        By the Mother of God most holy
        And her heavenly dignity,
    205 Her humility on earth
        That had power to scale high Heaven,
        And her own imperial worth
        Whereby in the Virgin birth
        The incarnate Christ to earth was given.

    210 _Z._ Say no more, accursed knave,
        We'll obey: what wouldst thou have?

        _P._ 'Tis my will and my desire
        That unto those ladies there
        This very hour you should have care
    215 Polyxena of Troy to bring:
        Come she, for beauty's heightening,
        In rich attire,
        Fair as she was fair of yore.

        _D._ With what a thrashing shouldst thou rue it
    220 Could I but do it.
        But thou hast taken my strength away.

        _P._ Let her come by land or sea
        Straightway and most peacefully.

        _Z._ And as to subscriptions for the war
    225 Hast thou any tithe to pay?

        _P._ Without delay Polyxena bring
        And joyfully
        Before her shall you dance and sing.

        _Z._ They'll send another elephant yet
    230 And you'll have to pay the tax for it.

_Polyxena comes and says:_

        _Pol._ Wherefore hither am I come?
        O how great my affliction is
        Since against my will you bring
        Me to further suffering.
    235 For he who lives in misery's stress
        Can but borrow
        From seen pleasures a new sorrow.
        But what a fairy court is this
        In which beauty has its home!
    240 The palace of Troy was not your peer
        Nor rival in magnificence,
        I see a greater Priam here
        Cesar of sovran excellence,
        A Hecuba of nobler mien,
    245 A flawless queen
        In power humanely gentle: hence
        Apollo's and Diana's reign
        Heaven confirmeth in the twain.
        And you, Prince most excellent,
    250 Give me liberal reward:
        From your promise is none debarred,
        It fills all men with content,
        And the planets of Heaven's abode
        Had word of God
    255 That to you be greatness sent
        And fortune's favour even more
        Than to those who reigned before.
        And for you, most lovely flower,
        Princess Dona Isabel,
    260 The Lord of Heaven in His power
        Marshalled in host innumerable
        The sky and all its company,
        And Jove as judge did then ordain
        That as empress you should reign
    265 O'er Castille and Germany.
        You, O Prince Dom Ferdinand,
        Since prudence is your special share
        And with favourable wand
        Mercury holds you in his arms,
    270 Wealth and prosperity shall bless
        In quietness
        Without toil or any care,
        Turmoil or loud war's alarms:
        This for you the gods have planned.
    275 For you, Princess Beatrice,
        Your sure destiny it is
        To be married happily
        Unto France's fleur-de-lys.
        And the world has more in store
    280 For you, yea more
        Than you imagine shall be given.
        Princes, leave all cares of yore
        Since you have the ear of Heaven.

        _P._ What say you to the roses there
    285 And this vale of loveliness?

        _Pol._ Would that fortune were no less
        Fair to me than they are fair!
        How gleams the Court in radiancy,
        What an array
    290 Of beauty is there here to see!
        O that it were given me
        Ever in this life to stay!

        _D._ In _this_ life! Thine another school.

        _Pol._ Who brought me to this destiny?

    295 _D._ That excommunicated fool,
        Thou camest here at his suggestion.
        Ask him what he wants of thee,
        Just to see.

        _Pol._ Why then have you brought me here?

    300 _P._ What, no sooner you appear
        Than you would begin to question!
        Tell these lordlings instantly,
        Since you suffered from love's wound,
        What in this life here you found
    305 The greatest of all woes to be,
        Tell them if the pains of Hell
        Be as deep as those of love,
        Or if torments there excel
        Those that here from love's thoughts well,
    310 Griefs that every lover prove.

        _Pol._ Awful in intensity
        Are Hell's tortures unto me,
        Grievously I suffer, yet
        Ne'er could I love's wound forget.

    315 _P._ What the arts and qualities
        That should a true lover grace?

        _Pol._ Constancy has the first place
        And resolution; and, with these,
        Noble must he be, discreet,
    320 Silent, patient of disdain
        With heart e'er open to love's strain
        In passion's service to compete,
        But not to change and change again.
        And he must be liberal,
    325 Generous exceedingly,
        Since there is no quality
        That for lovers is so meet.
        For to a lover avarice
        Is as uncongenial
    330 As would be a fire in ice
        Or if a picture were to be
        Itself and its original
        For his food he must but take
        A mouthful barely, and with sighs,
    335 And when he asleeping lies
        He must still be half awake.
        Very gentle-mannered he,
        Humane and courteous, must be
        And serve his lady without hope,
    340 For he who loveth grudgingly
        Proves himself of little scope.

        _P._ What his qualities among
        Should most bring him love for love?

        _Pol._ That he should be brave and strong,
    345 That will his best vantage prove.
        For a man advanced in years,
        Ill-favoured though be and weak,
        If name famed in war he bears
        Even in the fairest lady's ears
    350 Should for him his actions speak.
        On, on ye lords, to war, to war!
        And ladies not as heretofore
        Embroider wimples for your wear
        But banners for the knights to bear.
    355 For thus amid the wars of Troy
        I and my sisters did employ
        Our time and all our artifice:
        Standards, with many a fair device
        Embroidered, did we weave for them;
    360 And on them lavished many a gem
        And gaily with glad songs of joy
        Our necklaces we freely gave,
        Tiara and diadem.
        Then leave your points and hem-stitch leave,
    365 Your millinery and your lace,
        And utterly from off earth's face
        These renegade dogs destroy.
        O to see Penthesilea again
        With forty thousand warriors,
    370 Armed maidens gleaming like the stars
        On the Palomean plain.

        _P._ Come bring her here this very hour.

        _Z._ Cannot you leave us one instant alone?

        _P._ What are you doing? Come on, come on.

    375 _D._ To the devil would I see you gone
        And whoso gives you this power.

_Penthesilea enters and says:_

        _Pen._ What would you of this hapless queen
        Penthesilea woe-begone,
        Who in tears and sorrow thus appear
    380 Ill-favoured in this court's fair sheen?
        Why should you wish to see me here
        Before your high imperial throne,
        Great king of marvels, who alone
        With your small armies scatter still
    385 Your victories abroad at will?
        Were I now, Sir, at liberty,
        From Hell's grim dominion free
        And mistress of my destiny
        I would serve you willingly.
    390 All my days would I spend then
        With your armies to my gain,
        My golden arrow then with zest
        Would serve you in a service blest
        And not in useless wars and vain.
    395 O renown[`e]d Portugal,
        Learn to know thy noble worth
        Since thy power imperial
        Reaches to the ends of Earth.
        Forward, forward, lord and knight
    400 Since Heaven's favours on you crowd,
        Forward, forward in your might
        That doth the King of Fez affright,
        And Morocco cries aloud.
        O cease ye eagerly to build
    405 So many a richly furnished chamber,
        And to paint them and to gild.
        Money so spent will nothing yield.
        With halberds only now remember
        And with rifles to excel.
    410 Not for Genoese fashions strive
        But as Portuguese to live
        And in houses plain to dwell.
        As fierce warriors win renown,
        Not for wealth most perilous,
    415 Give your country a golden crown
        Of deeds, not words that mock at us.
        Forward, Lisbon! All descry
        Thy good fortune far and nigh,
        And the fame thou dost inherit,
    420 Since fortune raises thee on high,
        Win it sturdily by merit.
        Achilles when he went away
        From near this city went,
        Call him: you'll hear truth evident
    425 If you doubt what I have said.

        _P._ Let him come up, come up, I say.

        _Z._ This priest has gone quite off his head.
        I don't know what I am about
        That I don't give the Jew a clout:
    430 Would you empty Hell of its dead?

_Achilles comes and says:_

        _A._ When Jupiter in all his might
        Was seated on his throne
        And in his strength ordered aright
        By his right hand alone
    435 The courses of the day and night;
        And warrior Mars to Earth had lent
        His bolts of victory
        And parted with his armament;
        When Saturn still slept peacefully
    440 With all his firmament;
        When the Sun shone with clearer light
        And an intenser ray
        And the Moon's beams illumed the night,
        More brightly than noonday,
    445 And Venus sang her loveliest lay;
        When wisdom, that he now doth keep,
        Was given by Mercury,
        And mirth flashed o'er the heaven's steep
        And the winds were gently hushed asleep
    450 And a calm lay on the sea;
        When joy and fame together checked
        The hands of destiny
        And glory's flags the poles bedecked
        And the heavens, by no clouds beflecked,
    455 Gleamed in their radiancy;
        When every heart with unfeigned cheer
        Was merry upon Earth,
        In that day and month and year,
        When all these portents did appear,
    460 Your Highnesses had birth.
        Now I, Achilles, in my youth
        Lived here for many days
        And happy am I in good sooth
        To see the kingdom's splendid growth
    465 Honoured in countless ways.
        Its noble sons these honours reap,
        But let no careless strain
        Prevent you what you win to keep;
        Ye prelates, 'tis no time for sleep!
    470 Ye priests, do not complain!
        When mighty Rome was in full sail
        Conquering all the Earth
        The girls and matrons without fail,
        That so the soldiers should prevail,
    475 Gave all their jewels' worth.
        Then O ye shepherds of the Church
        Down, down with Mahomet's creed!
        Leave not the fighters in the lurch!
        For if to scourge yourselves you speed
    480 Then Rome may spare the birch.
        You should sell your chalices,
        Yes and pawn your breviaries,
        Turn your gourds into flasks, and e'er
        Of bread and parsnips make your fare,
    485 To vanquish thus your enemies.

        _Z._ Aha, aha. A splendid rule!
        What do you think of that, Sir Fool?

        _P._ What is't to me? what should I care?
        For he who has no revenues
    490 Can by the tithes but little lose.

        _A._ If hither came but Hannibal,
        Hector and Scipio
        You shall see what they will show
        Of the things of Portugal,
    495 What reason and truth would have you know.

        _P._ Come Danor, and Zebron, hither
        Bring all three of them together.

        _D._ Rascal cleric, villain, cur,
        Thief, dog, that I for you should stir!

    500 _Z._ May a curse your power wither!

        _Hannibal, Hector and Scipio come, and Hannibal says:_

        _Han._ Easily you might forego
        Poor Hannibal's presence here,
        For your Court's fame far and near
        The furthest of Earth's regions know.

    505 _Hect._ Nor need Hector here appear.

        _S._ Nor is there room for Scipio.

        _Han._ Sirs, you should trust in God, that he
        All Africa presently
        Will reduce beneath your sway.
    510 Africa was Christian land,
        Moors have ta'en your own away.
        To the work, Captains, set your hand,
        For so with clearer ray shall burn
        Your renown when you return.
    515 And, O ladies of Portugal,
        Spend, spend jewel and precious stone,
        Duchesses, ladies, maidens, all
        Since such enterprises shall
        Properly be yours alone.
    520 A religious war it is
        For the honour of your land,
        Against those vile enemies,
        Undertaken reasonably
        And with good discretion planned.
    525 Of beads be every rosary,
        Each pearl replaced by bilberry,
        Brooches of the heads of leek;
        Such ornaments, my ladies, seek
        And those you have give every one.
    530 For little honour now is there
        In dresses and adornments fair,
        Honour give noble deeds alone,
        Not costly robes inwrought with gold
        And pranked with trimmings manifold:
    535 Give these now to help helmets make.
        And ye, good priors, I bid you take
        And divide all that you hold
        Among the soldiers of the guard
        And great shall be your reward.
    540 For of the income you obtain
        By whatever means you may
        The churches have but little gain,
        And from alms you still abstain:
        How you spend it who shall say?
    545 For the conquest of Africa
        Give a tithe of your possessions,
        Give it, if you can, with pleasure,
        For the less you have of treasure
        The less need you fear oppressions.
    550 And O rulers and noblemen,
        Yea and every citizen,
        Listen, listen to the drums,
        Hark to them with Christian ears!
        And ye people, hold not back,
    555 Forward, forward to the attack!
        Give your lives and your incomes,
        For in such a conflict holy
        None should harbour any fears.

_All these figures ordered themselves in winding circles and by turns
sang and acted the following, all singing:_

        Ta la la la lam, ta la la la lam.

    560 _Hannibal._ On, on! go forward, lord and knight,
        Since in war waged for the right
        God as Captain leads the fight.

        _They sing._ Ta la la la lam, ta la la la lam.

        _H._ To war, to war, both rich and poor,
    565 To war, to war, most ruthlessly
        Since the great King Manuel's wrath
        Is gone forth against the Moor.
        And he sworn and promised hath
        In his inmost heart that he
    570 Will destroy them from his path.

        _They sing._ Ta la la la lam, ta la la la lam.

        _H._ And his Highness for a sign
        Of our Holy Faith's increase
        Wills that at Fez by grace divine
    575 The mosque shall a cathedral be.
        War, war ever without cease
        Is his purpose mightily.

        _They sing._ Ta la la la lam, ta la la la lam.

        _H._ This our King most excellent
    580 And with great good fortune blest
        Is lord of every continent
        From the East unto the West:
        And the high God omnipotent
        In his gracious keeping still
    585 Guards his royal heart from ill.

        _They sing._ Ta la la la lam, ta la la la lam.

_And with this chorus they went out and the above Tragicomedy ends._




FARSA DOS ALMOCREVES


                        _Far[c,]a dos Almocreves._

_Esta seguinte farsa foy feyta & representada ao muyto poderoso &
excelente Rey dom Ioam o terceyro em Portugal deste nome na sua
cidade de Coimbra na era do S[~e]hor de MDXXVI. Seu fundamento he que
hum fidalgo de muyto pouca renda vsaua muyto estado, tinha capelam
seu & ouriuez seu, & outros officiaes, aos quaes nunca pagaua. E
vendose o seu capelam esfarrapado & sem nada de seu entra dizendo:_

        _Capel[~a]._ [p] Pois que nam posso rezar
        por me ver t[~a]o esquipado
        por aqui por este Arnado
        quero hum pouco passear
        por espa[c,]ar meu cuydado,
        e grosarey o romance
        de Yo me estaba en Coimbra
        pois Coimbra assim nos cimbra
        que nam ha quem preto alcance.
     10 [p] Yo me estaba en Coimbra
        cidade bem assentada,
        pelos campos de Mondego
        nam vi palha nem ceuada.
        Quando aquilo vi mezquinho
        entendi que era cilada
        contra os cauallos da corte
        & minha mula pelada.
        Logo tiue a mao sinal
        tanta milham apanhada
     20 e a peso de dinheiro:
        ['o] mula desemparada!
        Vi vir ao longo do rio
        h[~u]a batalha ordenada,
        nam de gentes mas de mus,
        com muita raya pisada.
        A carne estaa em Bretanha
        & as couves em Biscaya.
        Sam capelam dum fidalgo
        que nam tem renda nem nada;
     30 quer ter muytos aparatos
        & a casa anda esfaymada,
        toma ratinhos por pag[~e]s
        anda ja a cousa danada.
        Querolhe pedir licen[c,]a,
        pagueme minha soldada.

[p] _Chega o capelam a casa do fidalgo, & falando com elle diz:_

        _Cap._ [p] Senhor, ja seraa rezam.

        _Fid._ Auante, padre, falay.

        _C._ Digo que em tres annos vay
        que sam vosso capelam.

     40 _F._ He grande verdade, auante.

        _C._ Eu fora ja do ifante,
        e podera ser del Rey.

        _F._ A bof['e], padre, n[~a]o sey.

        _C._ Si, senhor, que eu sou destante
        Aindaque ca mempreguei.
    [p] Ora pois veja, senhor,
        que he o que me ha de dar,
        porque alem do altar
        seruia de comprador.

     50 _F._ Nam volo ey de negar.
        Fazeyme h[~u]a peti[c,]am
        de tudo o que requereis.

        _C._ Senhor, nam me perlongueis,
        que isso nam traz concrusam
        nem vejo que a quereis.
    [p] Porque me fiz polo vosso
        clericus & negoceatores.

        _F._ Assi vos dey eu fauores
        & disso pouco que eu posso
     60 vos fiz mais que outros se[~n]ores.
        Ora um clerigo que mais quer
        de renda nem outro bem
        que darlhe homem de comer,
        que he cada dia hum vintem,
        & mais muyto a seu prazer?
    [p] Ora a honrra que se monta:
        he capelam de foam!

        _C._ E do vestir nam fazeis conta,
        & esse comer com payxam,
     70 & dormir com tanta afronta
        que a coroa jaz no cham
        sem cabe[c,]al, e aa h[~u]a hora,
        & missa sempre de ca[c,]a?
        & por vos cayr em gra[c,]a
        serviauos tambem de fora,
        atee comprar sibas na pra[c,]a;
    [p] E outros carregozinhos
        desonestos pera mi.
        Isto, senhor, he assi.
     80 & azemel nesses caminhos,
        arre aqui & arre ali,
        & ter carrego dos gatos
        & dos negros da cozinha
        & alimparvolos [c,]apatos
        & outras cousas que eu fazia.

        _F._ [p] Assi fiey eu de vos
        toda a minha esmolaria
        & daueis polo amor de Deos
        sem vos tomar conta hum dia.

     90 _C._ Dos tres annos que eu alego
        dalaey logo sem penden[c,]as:
        mandastes dar a hum cego
        hum real por Endoen[c,]as.

        _F._ Eu isso nam volo nego.

        _C._ [p] E logo dahi a um anno
        pera ajuda de casar
        h[~u]a orfa[~a] mandastes dar
        meo couado de pano
        Dalcoba[c,]a por tosar.
    100 E nos dous annos primeyros
        repartistes tres pescadas
        por todos estes mosteyros
        na Pederneyra compradas
        daquestes mesmos dinheyros.
    [p] Ora eu recebi cem reaes
        em tres annos, contay bem,
        tenho aqui meo vintem.

        _F._ Padre, boa conta daes,
        ponde tudo num item
    110 & falay ao meu doutor
        que elle me falaraa nisso.

        _C._ Deyxe vossa Merce ysso
        pera el Rey nosso senhor,
        & vos falay me de siso.
        Que coma, senhor, me ficastes
        ysto dentro em Santarem
        de me pagardes muy bem.

        _F._ Em quantas missas machastes?
        das vossas digo eu porem.

    120 _C._ Que culpa vos tem [c,]amora?
        Por vos estam ellas nos [c,]eos.

        _F._ Mas tomay as pera vos
        & guarday as muytembora,
        entam paguevolas Deos.
    [p] Que eu n[~a]o gasto meus dinheyros
        em missas atabalhoadas.

        _C._ & vos fazeys foliadas
        & nam pagaes o gaiteyro?
        Isso sam balcarriadas.
    130 se vossas merces nam ham
        cordel pera tantos nos
        vyuey vos a aquem de vos
        & nam compreis gauiam
        pois que n[~a]o tendes pios.
    [p] Uos trazeis seis mo[c,]os de pee
        & acrecentaylos a capa
        coma Rey, & por merce,
        nam tendo as terras do Papa
        nem os tratos de Guine:
    140 antes vossa renda encurta
        coma pano Dalcoba[c,]a.

        _F._ Tudo o fidalgo da ra[c,]a
        em que a renda seja curta
        he per for[c,]a que isso fa[c,]a.
    [p] Padre, muy bem vos entendo:
        foy sempre a vontade minha
        daruos a el Rey ou ha Raynha.

        _C._ Isso me vay parecendo
        bom trigo se der farinha.
    150 Senhor, se misso fizer
        grande merce me faraa.

        _F._ Eu vos direy que seraa:
        dizey agora hum profaceo, a ver
        que voz tendes pera laa.

        _C._ Folgarey eu de o dizer,
        mas quem me responderaa?

        _F._ Eu. _C._ Per omnia secula seculorum.

        _F._ Am[~e]. _C._ Dominus vobiscum.

        _F._ Auante. _C._ Sursum corda.

    160 _F._ Tendes essa voz tam gorda
        que pareceis Alifante
        depois de farto da[c,]orda.

        _C._ [p] Pior voz tem Sim[~a]o vaz
        tesoureyro e capelam,
        & pior o Adayam
        que canta como alcatraz,
        e outros que por hi estam.
        Quereys que acabe acantiga
        & vereys onde vou ter.

    170 _F._ Padre, eu ey de ter fadiga,
        mas del Rey aueis de ser,
        escusada he mais briga.

        _C._ [p] Sabeis em que estaa a contenda?
        direys: he meu capelam.
        & el Rey sabe a vossa renda
        & rirse ha, se vem aa mam,
        & remetermaa aa Fazenda.

        _F._ Se vos foreis entoado.

        _C._ Que bem posso eu cantar
    180 onde dam sempre pescado
        & de dous annos salgado,
        o pior que ha no mar?

[p] _Vem um pagem do fidalgo & diz:_

        _Pag._ [p] Senhor, o oriuez see alli.

        _F._ Entre. Quereraa dinheyro.
        Venhaes embora, caualeyro,
        cobri a cabe[c,]a, cobri.
        Tendes grande amigo em mi
        & mais vosso pregoeyro.
        Gabeyuos ontem a el Rey
    190 quanto se pode gabar.
        & sey que vos ha dacupar,
        & eu vos ajudarey
        cada vez que mi achar:
    [p] Porque aas vezes estas ajudas
        sam milhores que cristeis,
        porque soo a fama que aueis
        & outras cousas meudas
        o que valem ja o sabeis.

        _Our._ Senhor eu o seruirey
    200 & nam quero outro senhor.

        _F._ Sabeis que tendes milhor,
        eu o disse logo a el Rey
        & faz em vosso louvor,
    [p] N[~a]o vos da mais [~q] vos pagu[~e]
        que vos deyxem de pagar.
        Nunca vi tal esperar
        nunca vi tal auantagem
        nem tal modo dagradar.

        _O._ Nossa conta he tam pequena,
    210 & ha tanto que he deuida,
        que morre de prometida,
        & pe[c,]oa ja com tanta pena
        que depenno a minha vida.

        _F._ [p] Ora olhay ese falar
        como vay bem martelado!
        Folgo nam vos ter pagado
        por vos ouuir martelar
        marteladas dauisado.

        _O._ Senhor, beyjovolas m[~a]os
    220 mas o meu queria eu na m[~a]o.

        _F._ Tambem isso he cortesam:
        'Senhor, beyjovolas m[~a]os,
        o meu queria eu na m[~a]o.'
        Que basti[~a]es tam lou[c,][~a]os!
    [p] Quanto pesaua o saleyro?

        _O._ Dous marcos bem, ouro & fio.

        _F._ Essa he a prata: & o feitio?

        _O._ Assaz de pouco dinheyro.

        _F._ Que val com feytio & prata?

    230 _O._ Justos noue mil reaes.
        & nam posso esperar mais
        que o vosso esperar me mata.

        _F._ Rijamente mapertaes.
        E fazeisme mentiroso,
        que eu gabeyuos doutro geyto
        & seu tornar ao deffeito
        nam seraa proueyto vosso.

        _O._ Assi que o meu saleyro peito?

        _F._ Elle he dos mais maos saleiros
    240 que eu em minha vida comprey.

        _O._ Ainda o eu tomarey
        a cabo de tres Janeyros
        que ha que volo eu fiey.

        _F._ [p] Jagora n[~a]o he rezam:
        eu nam quero que vos percais.

        _O._ Pois porque me nam pagais?
        Que eu mesmo comprey caru[~a]o
        com que mencaruoi[c,]aes.

        _F._ Mo[c,]o vayme ver que faz el Rey,
    250 se parecem damas la,
        este dia nam se va
        em pagaraas, nam pagarey.
        & vos tornay outro dia ca
        se nam achardes a mi
        falay com o meu Camareyro
        porque elle tem o dinheyro
        que cadano vem aqui
        da renda do meu celeyro,
        e delle recebereys
    260 o mais certo pagamento.

        _O._ E pagaisme ahi co vento
        ou co as outras merces?

        _F._ Tomaylhe vos la o tento.

[p] _Indose o capelam vay dizendo:_

        _C._ [p] Estes ham dir ao parayso?
        nam creo eu logo nelle.
        Eu lhes mudarey a pelle:
        daqui auante siso, siso,
        juro a Deos queu mabruquele.

[p] _Vem o pagem com recado e diz:_

        _P._ [p] Senhor, in Rey see no pa[c,]o.

    270 _F._ Em [~q] casa?

        _P._              Isto abasta.

        _F._ O recado que elle da!
        ratinho es de maa casta.

        _P._ Ab[~o]da, bem sey eu o [~q] eu fa[c,]o.

        _F._ Abonda! olhay o vilam.
        Damas parecem per hi?

        _P._ Si, senhor, damas vi,
        andauam pelo balcam.

        _F._ [p] E qu[~e] er[~a]?

        _P._                Damas mesmas.

        _F._ Como as cham[~a]?

        _P._        Nam as chamaua n[~i]gu[~e].

    280 _F._ Ratinhos s[~a] ab[~a]tesmas
        & quem por pag[~e]s os tem.
        Eu ey de fazer por auer
        hum pagem de boa casta.

        _P._ Ainda eu ey de crecer,
        casti[c,]o sam eu que basta
        se me Deos deyxar viuer.
    [p] Pois o mais deprenderey
        como outros como eu peri.

        _F._ Pois fazeo tu assi,
    290 porque has de ser del Rey,
        mo[c,]o da camara ainda.

        _P._ Boa foy logo ca vinda.
        Assi que atee os pastores
        ham de ser del Rey samica!
        Por isso esta terra he rica
        de p[~a]o, porque os lauradores
        fazem os filhos pa[c,][~a]os:
    [p] Cedo n[~a]o ha dauer vil[~a]os,
        todos del Rey, todos del Rey.

    300 _F._ E tu z[~o]bas?

        _P._            Nam mas antes sey
        que tambem alguns Christ[~a]os
        h[~a] de deyxar a costura.

[p] _Torna o capelam._

        _C._ [p] Vossa merce per ventura
        falou ja a el Rey em mi?

        _F._ Ainda geyto nam vi.

        _C._ Nam seja tam longa a cura
        como o tempo que serui.

        _F._ Anda el Rey tam acupado
        co este Turco, co este Papa,
    310 co esta Fran[c,]a, co esta trapa
        que nam acho vao aazado
        porque tudo anda solapa.
        Eu entro sempre ao vestir,
        por['e]m para arrecadar
        ha mister grande vagar.
        Podeis me em tanto seruir
        atee que eu veja lugar.

        _C._ Senhor queria concrusam.

        _F._ Concrusam quereis? Bem, bem,
    320 concrusam ha em alguem.

        _C._ Concrusam quer concrusam,
        & nam ha concrusam em nada.
        Senhor, eu tenho gastada
        h[~u]a capa & hum mantam:
        pagayme minha soldada.

        _F._ Se vos podesseis achar
        a altura de Leste a Oeste,
        pois nam tendes voz que preste,
        perequi era o medrar.

    330 _C._ & vos pagaisme co ar?
        M[~a]o caminho vejo eu este.

[p] _Vayse._

        _P._ Deueo el Rey de tomar
        que luta como danado:
        elle ['e] do nosso lugar,
        de mo[c,]o guardaua gado
        agora veo a bispar.
    [p] Mas nam sinto capelam
        que lhe ch[~a]te hum par de quedas,
        e chamase o labaredas.

    340 _F._ E ca chamase cot[~a]o,
        mais fidalgo que os azedas.
        Satisfa[c,]am me pedia,
        que he pior de fazer
        que queymar toda Turquia,
        porque do satisfazer
        naceo a melanconia.

[p] _Vem Pero vaz, almocreue, que traz hum pouco de fato do fidalgo &
vem tangendo a chocalhada & cantando:_

    [p] A serra he alta, fria & neuosa,
        vi venir serrana, gentil, graciosa.

Falando.

    [p] Arre mulo namorado
    350 que custaste no mercado
        sete mil & nouecentos
        & hum traque pera o siseyro.
        Apre ru[c,]o, acrecentado
        a moradia de quinhentos
        paga per Nuno ribeyro.
        Dix pera a paga & pera ti.
        Arre, arre, arre embora
        que ja as tardes sam damigo,
        apre besta do roim,
    360 uxtix, o atafal vay por fora
        & a cilha no embigo.
        Sam diabos pera os ratos
        estes vinhos da candosa.

Canta.

    [p] A serra he alta, fria & neuosa,
        vi venir serrana, gentil, graciosa.

Fala.

    [p] Apre ca yeramaa
        que te vas todo torcendo
        como jogador de bola.
        Huxtix, huxte xulo ca,
    370 que teu dou yraas gemendo
        e resoprando sob a cola.
        Aa corpo de mi tareja
        descobrisuos vos na cama.
        Parece? dix pera vossa ama,
        nam criaraas tu hi bareja.

Canta.

    [p] Vi venir serrana g[~e]til graciosa,
        chegueime pera ella con gr[~a] cortesia.

Fala.

        Mandovos eu sospirar
        pola padeyra Daueiro,
    380 que haueis de chegar aa venda
        & entam ali desalbardar
        & albardar o vendeyro
        senam teuer que nos venda
        vinho a seis, cabra a tres,
        pam de calo, fillhos de m[~a]teyga,
        mo[c,]a fermosa, l[~e][c,]oes de veludo,
        casa juncada, noyte longa,
        chuua com pedra, telhado nouo,
        a candea morta & a gaita a porta.
    390 Apre, zambro, empe[c,]ar['a]s?
        Olha tu nam te ponha eu
        oculos na rabadilha
        & veraas por onde vas.
        Demo que teu dou por seu
        & andaraas la de silha.
    [p] Chegueime a ella de gr[~a] cortesia,
        disselhe: Se[~n]ora, quereis c[~o]panhia?

[p] _Vem Vasco afonso, outro almocreve, & topam se ambos no caminho &
diz Pero vaz:_

        _P._ [p] Ou, Vasco Afonso, onde vas?

        _V._ Huxtix, per esse cham.

    400 _P._ Nam traes chocalhos nem nada?

        _V._ Furtar[~a]o mos la detras
        na venda da repeydada.

        _P._ Hi bebemos nos aa vinda.

        _V._ Cujo he o fato, Pero vaz?

        _P._ Dum fidalgo, dou oo diabo
        o fato & seu dono coelle.

        _V._ Valente almofreyxe traz.

        _P._ Tomo o mu de cabo a rabo.

        _V._ Par deos carrega leua elle.

    410 _P._ [p] Uxtix, agora nam paceram elles
        & la por essas charnecas
        vem roendo as vrzeyras.

        _V._ Leixos tu, Pero vaz, que elles
        acham aqui as eruas secas
        & nam comem giesteyras.
        & quanto te dam por besta?

        _P._ Nam sey, assi Deos majude.

        _V._ Nam fizeste logo o pre[c,]o?
        mal aas tu de liurar desta.

    420 _P._ Leyxeyo em sua virtude,
        no que elle vir que eu mere[c,]o.

        _V._ [p] Em sua virtude o deixaste?
        & trala elle com sigo
        ou ha dir buscala ainda?
        Oo que aramaa te fartaste!
        Queres apostar comigo
        que te renegues da vinda?

        _P._ Elle pos desta maneyra
        a m[~a]o na barba & me jurou
    430 de meus dinheyros pagalos.

        _V._ Essa barba era inteyra
        a mesma em que te jurou
        ou bigodezinhos ralos?

        _P._ [p] Ora Deos sabe o que faz
        & o juiz de [c,]amora:
        de fidalgo he manter fee.

        _V._ Bem sabes tu, Pero vaz,
        que fidalgo ha jagora
        que nam sabe se o he.
    440 Como vay a ta molher
        & todo teu gasalhado?

        _P._ O gasalhado hi ficou.

        _V._ E a molher? _P._ Fugio. _V._ Nam pode ser.
        Como estaraas magoado,
        yeramaa. _P._ Bofa nam estou.
    [p] Huxtix, sempre has dandar
        debayxo dos souereyros?
        & a mi que me da disso?

        _V._ Per for[c,]a ta de pesar
    450 se rirem de ti os vendeyros.

        _P._ Nam tenho de ver co isso.
    [p] Vay, Vasco afonso, ao teu mu
        que se quer deytar no cham.

        _V._ Pesate mas desingulas.

        _P._ Nam pesa: bem sabes tu
        que as molheres nam sam
        todo o ver[~a] sen[~a] pulgas.
        Isto quanto aa saudade
        que eu della posso ter;
    460 & quanto ao rir das gentes
        ella faz sua vontade:
        foyse perhi a perder
        & eu n[~a] perdi os dentes.
    [p] Ainda aqui estou enteyro,
        Vasco afonso, como dantes,
        filho de Afonso vaz
        e neto de Jam diz pedreyro
        & de Branca Anes Dabrantes,
        nam me faz nem me desfaz.
    470 Do que me fica gram noo
        que teue rezam de se hir
        & em parte nam he culpada;
        porque ella dormia soo
        & eu sempre hia dormir
        cos meus muus aa meyjoada.
    [p] Queria a eu yr poupando
        pera la pera a velhice
        como colcha de Medina
        & ella mosca Fernando
    480 quando vio minha pequice
        foy descobrir outra mina.

        _V._ E agora que faraas?

        _P._ Yrey dormir aa Cornaga
        e aamenha[~a] aa Cucanha.
        E tu vay, embora vas,
        que eu vou seruir esta praga
        & veremos que se ganha.

[p] _Vai cantando._

    [p] Disselhe: se[~n]ora [~q]reis c[~o]panhia?
        Dixeme: escudeyro segui vossa via.

    490 _Pag._ Senhor, o almocreue he a[~q]lle
        que os chocalhos ou[c,]o eu,
        este he o fato, senhor.

        _Fid._ Ponde todos cobro nelle.

        _Per._ Uxtix mulo do judeu.
        O fato hu saa de por?

        _Pa._ Venhaes embora, pero vaz.

        _Pe._ M[~a]tenha deos vossa merce.

        _Pa._ Viestes polas folgosas?

        _Pe._ Ahi estiue eu oje faz
    500 oyto dias pee por pee
        em casa de h[~u]as tias vossas.

        _Pa._ Ora meu pai que fazia?

        _Pe._ Cauaua andando o bacelo
        bem cansado e bem suado.

        _Pa._ E minha m[~a]y?

        _Pe._               Leuaua o gado
        la pera val de cubelo,
        mal roupada que ella ia.
        Huxtix, que mao lambaz.
        & vossa merce que faz?

    510 _Pa._ Estou lou[c,]am coma que.

        _Pe._ E abofee creceis a[c,]az,
        saude que vos Deos dee.

        _Pa._ [p] Eu sou pagem de meu senhor,
        se Deos quiser pagem da lan[c,]a.

        _Pe._ E hum fidalgo tanto alcan[c,]a?
        Isso he Demperador
        ora prenda el Rey de Fran[c,]a.

        _Pa._ Ainda eu ey de perchegar
        a caualeyro fidalgo.

    520 _Pe._ Pardeos, Jo[~a]o crespo penaluo,
        que isso seria esperar
        de mao rafeyro ser galgo.
    [p] Mais fermoso estaa ao vilam
        mao burel que mao frisado
        & romper matos maninhos,
        & ao fidalgo de na[c,]am
        ter quatro homes de recado
        e leyxar laurar ratinhos;
        que em Frandes & Alemanha
    530 em toda Fran[c,]a & Veneza,
        que vivem por siso e manha
        por nam viver em tristeza;
    [p] nam he como nesta terra.
        Porque o filho do laurador
        casa la com lauradora
        & nunca sobem mais nada;
        & o filho do broslador
        casa com a brosladora,
        isto por ley ordenada.
    540 E os fidalgos de casta
        seruem os Reis & altos senhores
        de tudo sem presun[c,]am,
        tam ch[~a]os [~q] pouco lhes basta;
        & os filhos dos lauradores
        pera todos lauram pam.

        _Pa._ [p] Quero hir dizer de vos.

        _Pe._ Ora yde dizer de mi;
        que se grave he Deos dos ceos
        mais graves deoses ha qui.

    550 _Pa._ Senhor ali vem o fato
        & estaa ha porta o almocreue,
        vede quem lha a de pagar
        isso tal que se lhe deue.

        _F._ [p] Isto he com que meu mato.
        quem te manda procurar?
        Atenta tu polo meu
        & arrecado muyto bem
        & nam cures de ninguem.

        _Pa._ Elle he dapar de Viseu
    560 & homem que me pertem,
        pois a porta lhabri eu.

[p] _Entra dentro o almocreue & diz:_

    [p] _Pe._ Senhor, trouxe a frascaria
        do vossa merce aqui.
        Hi estam os mus albardados.

        _Fid._ Essa he a mais nova arauia
        d'almocreue que eu vi:
        dou-te vinte mil cruzados.

        _Pe._ Mas pagueme vossa merce
        o meu aluguer, no mais,
    570 que me quero logo hir.

        _F._ O aluguer quanto he?

        _Pe._ Mil & seis centos reaes,
        & isto por vos seruir.

        _F._ [p] Falay co meu azemel,
        porque he doutor das bestas
        & estrologo dos mus:
        que assente em hum papel
        per aualia[c,][~o]es honestas
        o que se monta, ora sus;
    580 porque esta he a ordenan[c,]a
        & estilo de minha casa.
        & se o azemel for fora,
        como cuydo que he em Fran[c,]a,
        dareis outra volta aa massa
        & hiruos eis por agora.
    [p] Vossa paga he nas m[~a]os.

        _Pe._ Ja a eu quisera nos pees,
        oo pesar de minha m[~a]y!

        _F._ E tens tu pay & yrm[~a]os?

    590 _Pe._ Pagay, senhor, n[~a]o zombeis,
        que sam dalem da sert[~a]y
        & nam posso ca tornar.

        _F._ Se ca vieres aa corte
        pousaraas aqui cos meus.

        _Pe._ Nunca mais ey de fiar
        em fidalgo desta sorte,
        em que o mande sam Mateus.

        _F._ [p] Faze por teres amigos
        & mais tal homem comeu
    600 porque dinheyro he hum vento.

        _Pe._ Dou eu ja oo demo os amigos
        que me a mi levam o meu.

[p] _Vayse o almocreue & vem outro Fidalgo & diz o fidalgo primeyro:_

        _F. 1^o._ [p] Oo que grande saber vir
        & que gram saber maa vontade.

        _F. 2^o._ Pois, senhor, que vos parece?
        desejo de vos seruir
        & nam quero [~q] venha aa cidade
        hum quem nam parece esquece.

        _F. 1^o._ Paguey soma de dinheyro
    610 a hum ouriuez agora
        de prata que me laurou
        & paguey a hum recoueiro
        que he a dar dinheyros fora
        a quem nam sei como os ganhou.

        _F. 2^o._ Ganh[~a]-nos t[~a] mal ganhados
        que vos roubam as orelhas.

        _F. 1^o._ Pola hostia consagrada
        & polo Deos consagrado
        que os lobos nas ouelhas
    620 nam dam t[~a] crua pancada.
        Polos sanctos auangelhos
        e polo omnium sanctorum
        que atee o meu capelam
        per mesinhas de coelhos
        & h[~u]a secula seculorum
        lhe dou por missa hum tostam.
    [p] N[~a]o ha ja homem em Portugal
        tam sogeyto em pagar
        nem tam forro pera molheres.

    630 _F. 2^o._ Guarday vos esse bem tal
        que a mi ham me de matar
        bem me queres, mal me queres.

        _F. 1^o._ Per quantas damas Deos t[~e]
        n[~a] daria nemigalha:
        olhay que descubro isto.

        _F. 2^o._ Sam tam fino em querer bem
        que de fino tomo a palha
        pola fee de Jesu Christo.
    [p] Quem quereis que veja olhinhos
    640 que se nam perca por elles
        la per h[~u]s geytinhos lindos
        que vos metem em caminhos
        & nam ha caminhos nelles
        senam espinhos infindos.

        _F. 1^o._ Eu ja nam ey de penar
        por amores de ninguem;
        mas dama de bom morgado
        aqui vay o remirar,
        aqui vay o querer bem,
    650 & tudo bem empregado.
    [p] Que porque dance muy bem
        nem baylar com muyta gra[c,]a,
        seja discreta, auisada,
        fermosa quanto Deos tem,
        senhor, boa prol lhe fa[c,]a
        se seu pay nam tiuer nada.
        Nam sejaes vos tam mancias,
        que isso passa ja damor
        & cousas desesperadas.

    660 _F. 2^o._ Porem la por vossas vias
        vou vos esperar, senhor,
        a rendeyro das jugadas.
    [p] Porque galante caseyro
        he pera por em historia.

        _F. 1^o._ Mas zombay, senhor, zombay.

        _F. 2^o._ Senhor, o homem inteiro
        nam lha de vir ha memoria
        co a dama o de seu pay;
        nem ha mais de desejar
    670 nem querer outra alegria
        que so los tus cabellos ni[~n]a:
        nam ha hi mais que esperar
        onde he esta canteguinha,
        e todo mal he quem no tem,
        e se o disserem dig[~a]o, alma minha,
        quem vos anojou meu bem.
        Ey os todos de grosar
    [p] ainda que sejam velhos.

        _F. 1^o._ Vos, senhor, vindes t[~a]o brauo
    680 que eu eyuos medo ja:
        polos sanctos auangelhos
        que leuais tudo ao cabo
        la onde cabo nam ha.

        _F. 2^o._ Zombaes, & daes a entender
        zombando que mentendeis.
        Pois de vos muy alto sou,
        porque deueis de saber
        que se damor nam sabeis
        nam podeis yr onde vou.
    690 [p] Quando fordes namorado
        vireis a ser mais profundo,
        mais discreto e mais sotil,
        porque o mundo namorado
        he la, senhor, outro mundo,
        que estaa alem do Brasil.
        Oo meu mundo verdadeyro!
        oo minha justa batalha!
        mundo do meu doce engano!

        _F. 1^o._ Oo palha do meu palheyro,
    700 que tenho hum mundo de palha,
        palha ainda dora a hum anno;
        e tenho hum mundo de trigo
        para vender a essa gente:
        bom cabe[c,]a tem Morale.
        Nam quero damor, amigo
        andar gemente & flente
        in hac lachrymarum valle.

        _F._ 2^o. Voume: vos n[~a]o sois sentido,
        sois muy duro do pesco[c,]o,
    710 n[~a]o val isso nemigalha:
        pesame de ver perdido
        hum homem fidalgo en[c,]osso,
        pois tem a vida na palha.

                                  FINIS

19. _milhaam_ B. _milhan_ C.

21. _desamparada_ B.

24. _gentes_ A, B. _gente_ C, D, E.

25. _raya_ A, B. _raiva_ C, D, E.

43. _Habofee_ B.

52. _o que_ A, B. _quanto_ C, D, E.

53. _perlongueis_ A, B. _prolongueis_ C, D, E.

57. _et negociatores_ C.

62. _d'outro_ C.

103. _Pedreneyra_ B.

115. _coma_ A. _como_ B.

128. _o gaiteyro_ A. _['o] gaiteiro_ C, D, E.

135. _Uos trazeis_ A. _Trazeis_ C, D, E.

142. _da ra[c,]a_ A. _de ra[c,]a_ C.

153. _dizey ora_ B.

157. _Penonia_ A. _Per omnia_ C.

167. _perhi_ B.

174. _direyis_ A.

180. _honde_ B.

183. _oriuez_ and infra _our._ A; _oriuz_ B. _see_ A; _seee_ B; _s'he_
C.

191. _de occupar_ C.

198. _ja o sabeis_ A. _ja sabeis_ C.

205. B omits 205 and prints 206 twice.

236. _desfeyto_ B.

239. B. omits _mais_.

240. _que em_ C.

249. _ver o que faz_ C.

255. _com o_ A. _c'o_ C.

257. _anno_ B.

263-4. _capelam, ourives?_

268. _que m'abruquele_ C. B omits 268.

269. _s'he_ C.

271. _O recado qu'elle d['a]! Madra[c,]o,_ ?

286. _deixa_ C.

287. _o amais_ B. _o mais o_ C.

288. _com os outros_ B.

292. _ca a vinda_ C.

308. _acupado_ A, B. _occupado_ C.

325. _minha_ A, B. _a minha_ C.

346. _melancholia_ C. _chocallada_ B.

369. _uxtix, uxte_ C.

372. _Aa corpo_ A. _ao corpo_ C, D, E.

375. _vareja_ C.

377. _pa_ B.

383. _que nos_ A, B. _que vos_ C.

389. _a candeia morta, gaita_ C.

395. _cilha_ C.

397. _senhora_ B.

406. _e o seu_ C.

419. _as_ B.

422. _leixaste_ C.

425. _fretaste_ C.

443. _fogio_ B.

449. _t'ha_ C.

465. _Afonso_ B.

466. _Affonso_ B.

467. _Iam diz_ B. _Jan Diz_ C.

470. _gram noo_ A. _gran d['o]_ C.

471. _razam_ B.

484. _aa menhaa_ B.

488. _se[~n]ora_ A, B.

491. _chocallos_ B.

495. _s'ha_ C.

503. _Cauaua andando o bacelo_ A, B. _Cavando andava bacelo_ C.

506. _Cobelo_ C.

513. _sou_ A; _sam_ C [cf. 591]. _se[~n]or_ B.

518. _ey de perchegar_ A, B. _hei de chegar_ C.

524. _bom frisado_ B.

535. _casalo_ B.

536. _sobem_ A, B. _sabem_ C.

549. _haqui_ B. _ha aqui_ C.

552. _lha a_ A. _lha_ B. _lhe ha_ C.

559. _da par_ B.

562. _frescaria_ B.

576. _astrologo_ C.

591. _sam_ A; _sou_ C [cf. 513]. _da Sert[~a]y_ A, B; _do sert[~a]o_ C.

604. _maa_ A. _me a_ C. _& gran saber maa_ B.

617. B omits 617-626.

634. _nem migalha_ C.

644. _enfindos_ A. B omits 644.

666. _enteyro_ B.

671. que so _Los tus cabellos ni[~n]a_ C.

675. _e se o disserem dig[~a]o_--_Alma minha_ C.

681. _auangelhos_ A, B. _evangelhos_ C.

689. _onde eu vou_ C.

692. _subtil_ C.

703. _vender essa essa gente_ A. _a essa_ B, C.

704. _bom_ A, B. _boa_ C.

707. _vale_ A.

712. _en[c,]osso_ A. _enso[c,]o_ C.

FINIS. B omits _Finis_ and has: _Vanse estas figuras & acabouse esta
farsa. Laus Deo_


ENGLISH TRANSLATION:

                            _The Carriers._

_The following farce was played before the very powerful and excellent
King Dom Jo[~a]o III of Portugal in his city of Coimbra in the year of
the Lord 1526. Its argument is that a nobleman with a very small income
lived in great state and had his own chaplain, goldsmith and other
officials, whom he never paid. His chaplain seeing himself penniless and
in tatters enters, saying:_

        _Chaplain._ In such straits I cannot pray,
        So to lessen my distress
        And to win lightheartedness
        I'll walk along this Sandy Way
        And, the cares that on me press
        To soothe, the old romance I'll gloss
        "I was in Coimbra city"
        Since Coimbra without pity
        Brings us to such dearth and loss.
     10 I was in Coimbra city
        That is built so gracefully,
        In the plains of the Mondego
        Straw nor barley could I see.
        Thereupon, ah me! I reckoned
        'Twas a trap set artfully
        For the horses of the Court
        And the mule that carried me
        Ill I augured when I saw
        The young maize cut so lavishly
     20 And selling for its weight in gold:
        O my mule, I grieve for thee!
        In the plain along the river
        I saw a host in battle free
        Not of men, of mice the host was,
        They were fighting furiously.
        There are cabbages--in Biscay
        And there's meat--in Brittany.
        I'm chaplain to a nobleman,
        Poor as a church-mouse is he;
     30 On great show his heart is set
        Although his household famished be,
        Rustic louts he has for pages
        And all goes disastrously.
        Now will I ask leave of him
        And demand my salary.

_The chaplain arrives at the nobleman's room and converses with him
thus:_

        _C._ Sir, it is high time, I ween....

        _N._ Say on, good padre, say on.

        _C._ I say three years are wellnigh gone
        Since your chaplain I have been.

     40 _N._ Say on, for such a truth convinces.

        _C._ And I might have been the Prince's
        Yes, and might have been the King's.

        _N._ In good sooth that's not so clear.

        _C._ For I'm meant for higher things
        Though I stayed to serve you here.
        So then, sir, please to consider
        What I am to gain thereby,
        For besides priest's service I
        Served as buyer and as bidder.

     50 _N._ That I surely won't deny.
        Come now, make out a petition
        Of all you would have me pay.

        _C._ Sir, put me not off, I pray,
        For indeed your one condition
        Seems delay and still delay.
        In your service I became
        Priest and man of business too.

        _N._ Yes, and I bestowed on you
        Many a favour for the same,
     60 More than most are wont to do.
        What more should a priest require
        Of money or emolument
        Than his meals beside the fire
        --That's daily one penny spent--
        All things to his heart's desire?
        And besides there is the glory:
        He's chaplain to Lord So-and-so.

        _C._ Of dress you think not, nor the worry
        Of meals e'er taken in a flurry,
     70 And sleeping with my head so low
        My tonsure touched the ground, and no
        Comfort nor pillow for my head,
        And early mass, and late to bed.
        And I, your favour for to win,
        Served out-of-doors as well as in,
        Bought shell-fish in the market-place,
        To many an errand set my face
        --You know, sir, it is as I say--
        That ill became my dignity.
     80 Your carrier on the highway
        --Gee-up, gee-wo, the livelong day--
        Was I, and charge was given me
        Of the kitchen-negroes and the cats,
        I cleaned your boots, I brushed your hats,
        And might add other things to these.

        _N._ Yes, for so 'twas my intent
        To trust you with my charities,
        And for the love of God you spent,
        Nor asked I how the money went.

     90 _C._ For the three years of which I speak
        I'll tell you now without ado:
        To a blind man a farthing you
        Once bade me give in Holy Week.

        _N._ I'm not denying that it's true.

        _C._ And then just one year afterward,
        An orphan's dower to help to find,
        You bade give cloth--the roughest kind
        Of Alcoba[c,]a--half a yard.
        And also, perhaps you bear in mind,
    100 Three lots of fish you bade divide
        Among the convents round about
        During these first three years: supplied
        Were they from Pederneira, out
        Of that same fund must I provide.
        Now in three years I did receive
        One hundred r['e]is, and at this rate
        Just this one halfpenny they leave.

        _N._ I see you are most accurate.
        But come now, without more debate,
    110 Make one account of everything
        And give't my secretary, he
        Will the matter to my notice bring.

        _C._ O Sir, leave all that for the King
        Our master, and speak seriously.
        My services your promise was,
        Sir, when we were at Santarem,
        That you would pay right well for them.

        _N._ How often saw you me at Mass?
        --I mean when 'twas you said the same.

    120 _C._ If that was so am _I_ to blame?
        They have been said on your behalf.

        _N._ O keep them, keep them for yourself,
        You're very welcome to them--so,
        God will your due reward bestow.
        My money I waste not that way
        On masses muttered anyhow.

        _C._ What, would you have your mummeries now
        And think you need no fiddler pay?
        This is presumption's height, I trow.
    130 Unless your lordship's purse possesses
        Means for pomp and state so high
        To reduce them and spend less is
        Merely not a hawk to buy
        If you are without its jesses.
        Pages six in cloaks arrayed
        Wait upon you in the street
        In state that for a king were meet.
        Yet you have not, I'm afraid,
        The Pope's lands nor Guinea's trade.
    140 For your revenues shrink and shrink
        Much like Alcoba[c,]a cloth.

        _N._ Even so every noble doth
        Who to high birth small means must link.
        There's no other way, I think.
        But I see, padre, what you want,
        And my wish has always been
        To give you to the King or Queen.

        _C._ That would be good wheat, I grant,
        If its flour could be seen.
    150 Sir, if that should come to pass
        At your kindness I'll rejoice.

        _N._ Well then, without more ado,
        That so I may judge your voice,
        Sing a preface of the Mass.

        _C._ That will I most gladly do,
        But who will the responses say?

        _N._ I. _C._ _Per omnia secula._

        _N._ _Amen._ _C._ _Dominus vobiscum._

        _N._ Sing on, padre. _C._ _Sursum corda._

    160 _N._ Your voice, less soft than a recorder,
        Is thick as an elephant's that has fed
        Its fill of soup--and no more said.

        _C._ Worse voice has Sim[~a]o Vaz, I ween,
        Yet he's Treasurer and King's
        Chaplain, worse voice has the Dean
        --Like a pelican _he_ sings--
        And others that may be seen
        In the palace. Let me end
        My singing and great things you'll see.

    170 _N._ I think I'm rather tired, friend.
        But the King's you'll surely be,
        Nor need we further effort spend.

        _C._ Sir, the difficulty's this:
        For you'll say: 'My chaplain he,'
        The King knows what your income is
        And he'll laugh right merrily
        And send me to the Treasury.

        _N._ If you had but a good ear!

        _C._ How sing well when 'tis your use
    180 To give me everlasting cheer
        Of stockfish salted yesteryear,
        The worst that all the seas produce?

_One of the nobleman's pages comes and says:_

        _Page._ My lord, the goldsmith's at the door.

        _N._ Show him in.--He's come for more
        Money.--Come in, Sir, good-day.
        Put your hat on, I implore,
        I'm your great friend, you may say,
        Since I e'er your praises sing.
        Only last night to the King
    190 You most highly I commended
        And I know that he intended
        To employ you. I'll insist
        Every time I see him, for
        Such mention oft advances more
        Than directly to assist,
        And these little things, you know,
        May to a great value grow
        As your name and fame have grown.

        _G._ No other patron would I own,
    200 Sir, I'll serve him with all zest.

        _N._ Know you what I like the best
        In you? (To the King I said it
        And it's greatly to your credit)
        That you ne'er for payment pressed
        Nor your creditors molest.
        Ne'er such patience did I see,
        Such superiority
        And anxiety to please.

        _G._ Our account's so small a thing
    210 And is so long overdue,
        'Tis half dead of promises,
        So that when I bring it you
        I but a dead promise bring.

        _N._ How most cunningly inlaid
        And enamelled is each word!
        I rejoice not to have paid
        For the sake of having heard
        Phrases with such skill arrayed.

        _G._ Sir, I kiss your hands, but still
    220 What is mine would see in mine.

        _N._ Another courtier's phrase so fine!
        'Sir, I kiss your hands, but still
        What is mine would see in mine!'
        Fair flowers of speech are yours at will.
        What did the salt-cellar weigh?

        _G._ A good two marks, most accurately.

        _N._ The silver. And your work, I pray?

        _G._ That may almost be ignored.

        _N._ In all what may its value be?

    230 _G._ Just nine thousand r['e]is, my lord.
        And I can no longer wait
        For I'm killed by your delay.

        _N._ Your insistence, Sir, is great
        And I shall have told a lie
        For quite differently I
        Praised you. Praise may turn to gibe: you
        Surely will not gain thereby.

        _G._ With the cellar must I bribe you?

        _N._ 'Tis of salt-cellars the worst
    240 For which I e'er gave a shilling.

        _G._ Though three years have passed since first
        I let you have it I am willing
        To retake it even now.

        _N._ No, no, that I won't allow
        For I would not have you lose.

        _G._ Why then pay me not my dues?
        For myself the charcoal bought
        With which you turn my hopes to nought.

        _N._ Boy, go see what does the King,
    250 And if there are ladies to be seen,
        The whole day shall not pass, I ween,
        In pay and won't pay: no such thing.
        And you return some other day:
        And if you find that I'm away
        Then speak unto my Chamberlain,
        He of all moneys that accrue
        Has charge and of the revenue
        That yearly comes from tithe and grain:
        And from him you will obtain
    260 Most certainly what is your due.

        _G._ And do you pay me with parade
        Of words and other bounties vain?

        _N._ See to it you that you are paid.

_As the chaplain goes out he says:_

        _C._ Shall such men go to paradise?
        If so I'll not believe in it.
        But I'll be even with them yet:
        Henceforth, proof against each device,
        I'll countermine them by my wit.

_The page comes with a message and says:_

        _P._ The King be in the palace, Sir.

    270 _N._ In what room?

        _P._              No more I know.

        _N._ Low-born villain, is it so
        That a message you deliver?

        _P._ Arrah, I know what I'm about.

        _N._ Arrah! just listen to the lout!
        Are any ladies present there?

        _P._ Yes, I saw ladies, I aver,
        For they upon the terrace were.

        _N._ Who were they?

        _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 God 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 lev['e]e,
        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 latitude
        So, since your voice's not of the best,
        You might win the King's gratitude.

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

(_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 Cot[~a]o's yclept the same,
        The noblest 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 nobleman
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, pass by.

(_Speaking:_)

        Go on there, _arr['e]_, my fine mule,
    350 You cost me in the market-place
        Seven thousand and nine hundred r['e]is
        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, _arr['e]_, 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, pass by.

(_He speaks:_)

        Curse you, go on, _arr['e]_, I say,
        And now you're going all askew
        As one who would at skittles play:
        Come up, my mule, _arr['e]_, _arr['e]_.
    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, pass 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 buttermilk,
        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?

        _P._ A nobleman's, Devil take the same,
        Him and his suit of clothes and all.

        _V._ Yes, 'tis a bundle large enough.

        _P._ It takes the mule from head to tail.

        _V._ One cannot say it's load is small.

    410 _P._ Look you, now they will not graze
        And when through open moors we pass
        They nibble at the heather roots.

        _V._ Leave them, Pero Vaz, to go their ways,
        For very parched is here the grass,
        And they won't touch the broom's green shoots.
        What is to thee for carriage given?

        _P._ I do not know, so help me Heaven.

        _V._ What! didst thou not then fix a price?
        Thou'st caught then in a pretty vice.

    420 _P._ I left it to his good faith to pay
        Whate'er he saw was due to me.

        _V._ Left it to his good faith, you say!
        And what then if he hasn't any
        And has to go to look for it?
        O thou hast done most foolishly:
        I'll wager thee an honest penny
        That thou'lt repent thy coming yet.

        _P._ He put his hand--see here how--
        Upon his beard and swore that I
    430 Should be paid my money faithfully.

        _V._ Was it a proper beard, look you now,
        On which this oath of his was heard,
        Or a mere straggling moustache?

        _P._ Nay, as there is a God above,
        A judge who will the right approve,
        A nobleman will keep his word.

        _V._ Thou knowest right well, Pero Vaz,
        There are nobles now who scarcely know
        Whether they're noblemen or no.
    440 How is thy wife now? Is she well?
        And thy other property?

        _P._ That's there all right.

        _V._                        Well, and she?

        _P._ She ran away. _V._ Impossible!
        How sad thou must be feeling, why
        Bad luck to it. _P._ In faith not I.
        [_To his mule_] Come up there, must you ever go
        Just where the cork-trees come so low?--
        What has it to do with me?

        _V._ Thou must needs be hurt thereby
    450 When the innkeepers laugh at thee.

        _P._ No, that doesn't make me tremble.
        Vasco Afonso, look to thy mule,
        It's going to lie down on the ground.

        _V._ Thou feelest it but canst dissemble.

        _P._ O no, I don't. Thou know'st as a rule
        What women are all the summer round:
        So much for any regret that I
        Might feel for her now she is gone.
    460 And as for people's laughter, why
        As was her will so has she done:
        She went away to her own loss
        And leaves me not one tooth the worse.
        I'm hale and hearty as I was,
        Vasco Afonso, no change there is:
        The son still of Afonso Vaz,
        Grandson of the mason Jan Diz
        And Branca Annes my grandmother
        Of Abrantes: nor one way nor the other
    470 It touches me. And yet I grieve
        That she was partly in the right
        And was not utterly to blame,
        For I was ever wont to leave
        Her lonely there while every night
        To sleep at the inn with my mules I came.
        I wished thus that she might remain
        As a refuge for my old age,
        Like a Medina counterpane,
        But she saw through me and alack
    480 Must view the matter in a rage
        And go off on another track.

        _V._ And what wilt thou do now, I pray?

        _P._ I'll sleep at Cornaga's inn to-day
        And at Cucanha's to-morrow.
        So get thee on upon thy way,
        And I'll on this errand to my sorrow
        And we'll see how it will pay.

_He goes singing:_

        'Will you,' said I, 'lady, of my company?'
        But 'Sir knight, pass on your way,' said she unto me.

    490 _Page._ Sir, the carrier is here,
        He has brought the clothes for you,
        For the sound of the bells I hear.

        _N._ Look to it all of you with care.

        _Pero._ Hold up mule, you son of a Jew.
        Where shall I put the clothes, say, where?

        _P._ Good morrow to you, good Pero.

        _Pe._ God keep your worship even so.

        _P._ By the Folgosas did you go?

        _Pe._ Yes, that way was my journey made
    500 And to-day is just a week ago
        Since in your aunts' house there I stayed.

        _P._ What was my father doing now?

        _Pe._ Hoeing the vines in the sweat of his brow,
        In great heat and weariness.

        _P._ And my mother?

        _Pe._                She was up the dale
        Driving the herd--all in tatters her dress--
        Out towards Cobelo's Vale.
        [_To the mule_] Be quiet there. The greedy brute.
        And yourself how do these times suit?

    510 _P._ I'm flourishing like anything.

        _Pe._ In faith you're growing fine and tall,
        And may God give you health withal.

        _P._ I'm my lord's page and may advance
        To be the page who bears the lance.

        _Pe._ What, is a nobleman so great?
        That's for an Emperor, and the King
        Of France, I see, must mind his state.

        _P._ And more, I may go on to be
        A knight of the nobility.

    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
        Coarse sacking than your flimsy cloth.
        And to set his hand to till the soil
        And for the nobleman 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 class woo,
        By law is it so order[`e]d.
    540 And there the nobility
        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 God of Heaven I vow
        There are gods 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 worship, 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 noble 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 nobleman comes and the first nobleman
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 God 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 mass a shilling.
        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 vex[`e]d 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.
        But, my friend, I will not pine
        For love, nor weep throughout the years
        Mourning in this vale of tears.

        _2nd N._ Farewell, you have no sentiment
        And are stiff-necked exceedingly,
    710 All that's not worth an ancient saw.
        But me it grieves to see so spent
        A noble's life most witlessly,
        Since he's become a man of straw.

                                  FINIS




TRAGICOMEDIA PASTORIL DA SERRA DA ESTRELLA


            Tragicomedia Pastoril da Serra da Estrella.

Tragicomedia pastoril feyta & representada ao muyto poderoso & catholico
Rey dom Ioam o terceyro deste nome em Portugal ao parto da serenissima &
muy alta Raynha dona Caterina nossa senhora & nacimento da illustrissima
iffante dona Maria, que depois foy princesa de Castella, na cidade de
Coimbra na era do senhor de M.D.xxvij.

Entra logo a serra da estrela & diz:

    [p] Prazer que fez abalar
        tal serra comeu da estrela
        faraa engrandecer o mar
        e faraa baylar Castela
      5 & o ceo tambem cantar.
        Determino logo essora
        ir a Coimbra assi inteyra
        em figura de pastora,
        feyta serrana da beyra
     10 como quem na beyra mora.
    [p] E leuarey la comigo
        minhas serranas trigueyras,
        cada qual com seu amigo,
        & todalas ouelheyras
     15 que andam no meu pacigo.
        E das vacas mais pintadas
        & das ouelhas meyrinhas
        pera dar apresentadas
        aa Raynha das Raynhas,
     20 cume das bem assombradas.
    [p] Sendo Raynha tamanha
        veo ca aa serra embora
        parir na nossa montanha
        outra princesa despanha
     25 como lhe demos agora,
        h[~u]a rosa imperial
        como a muy alta Isabel,
        imagem de Gabriel,
        repouso de Portugal,
     30 seu precioso esperauel.
    [p] Bem sabe Deos o que faz.

        PARVO. Bofe nam sabe nem isto;
        a virgem Maria si;
        mas cantelle nam he bo
     35 nega pera queymar vinhas.

        SERRA. Isso has tu de dizer?

        PARVO. Quem? Deos? juro a Deos
        que nam faz nega o que quer.
        La em Coimbra estaueu
     40 quando a mesma raynha
        pario mesmo em cas din Rey,
        eu vos direy como foy.
        Ella mesma, benzaa Deos,
        estaua mesmo no pa[c,]o,
     45 quella, quando ha de parir,
        poucas vezes anda fora.
    [p] Ora a mesma camareyra
        porque he mesma de Castella,
        rogou aa mesma parteyra
     50 que fizesse delle ella--
        pere qui vay a carreyra--
        sabeis porque?
        Porque a mesma Empenatriz
        pario mesmo Empenador
     55 e agora estam auiados.
        Mas quando minha m[~a]y paria
        como a virgem a liuraua
        tanto se lhe dauella
        que fosse aquelle como aquella
     60 se nam ouos h[~u]a vez.

    [p] Vem Gon[c,]alo, h[~u] pastor da serra, [~q]
        vem da corte & vem cantando:

    [p] Volaua la pega y vayse.
        Quem me la tomasse!
        Andaua la pega
        no meu cerrado,
     65 olhos morenos, bico dourado
        quem me la tomasse!

Falado.

    [p] Pardeos muy aluora[c,]ada
        anda a nossa serra agora.

     70 SERRA. Gon[c,]alo, venhas embora
        porque eu estou abalada
        pera sair de mi fora.
        Queriauos ajuntar
        logo logo muyto asinha
     75 pera yrmos visitar
        nossa Senhora a Raynha,
        querendo Deos ajudar.

        GON[C,]. [p] Eu venho agora de la
        & segundo o que eu vi
     80 que vamos la bem seraa:
        isto crede vos quee assi:
        porque dizem que a princesa,
        a menina que naceo,
        parece cousa do ceo,
     85 h[~u]a estrela muyto acesa
        que na terra apareceo.

        SERRA. [p] Gon[c,]alo, eu te direy:
        ella ja naceo em serra
        e do mais fermoso Rey
     90 que ha na face da terra,
        e de Raynha muyto bella;
        & mais naceo em cidade
        muyto ditosa pareella
        & de grande autoridade.
     95 [p] E mais naceo em bom dia
        Martes, deos dos vencim[~e]tos,
        & trouxeram logo os ventos
        agoa que se requeria
        pera todos mantimentos.

    100 PARVO. Aas vezes faz Deos cousas,
        cousas faz elle aas vezes,
        atrauees como homem diz.
    [p] Nega se meu embeleco
        vay poer as pipas em seco
    105 & enche dagoa o Mondego:
        faraa mais hum demenesteco?
        engorda os vereadores
        & seca as pernas nas mo[c,]as
        de cima bem toos artelhos,
    110 & faz os frades vermelhos
        & os leygos amarelos
        & faz os velhos murzelos.
    [p] Enru[c,]a os mancebelh[~o]es
        & nam atenta por nada.
    115 Pedemlhe em Coimbra ceuada
        & elle delhes mexilh[~o]es
        & das solhas em cambada.

        GON[C,]. Vos, serra, se aueis dir
        com serranas & pastores
    120 primeyro se ham dauyr
        h[~u]a manada damores
        que nam querem concrudir.
    [p] Eu trago na fantesia
        de casar com Madanela
    125 mas nam sey se querra ella
        perol eu bofee queria.

[p] Vem Felipa pastora da serra c[~a]t[~a]do:

    [p] A mi seguem os dous a[c,]ores,
        hum delles moriraa damores.
        Dous a[c,]ores que eu auia
    130 aqui andam nesta baylia
        hum delles moriraa damores.

Falado.

        Gon[c,]alo, viste o meu gado?
        dize se o viste embora.

        GON[C,]. Venho eu da corte agora
    135 & diz que lhe de recado.

        FEL. Pois ja tu ca es casado,
        nega que esperam por ti.

        GON[C,]. E sem mi me casam a mi?
        Ora estou bem auiado.

    140 FEL. [p] Nam ha hi nega casar logo
        & fazer vida com ella
        senam for com Madanela.

        GON[C,]. Tiromeu fora do jogo.

        FEL. Essa he a milhor do jogo.

    145 GON[C,]. Essoutra sera alvarenga?

        FEL. Mas Catherina meygengra.

        GON[C,]. Antes me queime mao fogo.
    [p] Nam vem a Meygengra a c[~o]to,
        que he descuydada perdida,
    150 traz a saya descosida
        e nam lhe daraa hum ponto.
        Oo quantas lend[~e]s vi nella
        e pentear nemigalha,
        e por dame aquella palha
    155 he mayor o riso quella.
    [p] Varre & leyxa o lixo em casa,
        come & leyxa ali o bacio,
        cada dia a espanca o tio
        nega porque tam devassa;
    160 Madanela mata a brasa.
        Nam cures de mais arenga
        e dize tu, mana, a Meygengra
        que va amassar outra massa.

        FEL. [p] Ja teu pay tem dada a m[~a]o
    165 & dada a m[~a]o feyto he.

        GON[C,]. Par deos darlhey eu de pee
        comaa casca do mel[~a]o.
        Raivo eu de cora[c,][~a]o
        damores de Madanela.

    170 FEL. Meygengra he mais rica quella;
        quessa nam tem nem tostam.

        GON[C,]. Arrenega tu do argem
        que me vem a dar tormento,
        porque hum soo contentamento
    175 val quanto ouro Deos tem.
        Deos me dee quem quero bem
        ou me tire a vida toda,
        com a morte seja a boda
        antes que outra me dem.

    180 FEL. Eu me you pee ante pee
        ver o meu gado onde vay.

        GON[C,]. E eu quero yr ver meu pay,
        veremos comisto he.

[p] Vem Caterina Meyg[~e]gra cantando:

    [p] A serra es alta,
    185 o amor he grande,
        se nos ouuirane.

        FEL. [p] Onde vas Meygengra mana?

        CAT. A novilha vou buscar,
        viste ma tu ca andar?

    190 FEL. Nam na vi esta somana.
        Agora estora vay daqui
        Gon[c,]alo que vem da corte;
        mana, pesoulhe de sorte
        quando lhe faley em ti
    195 como se foras a morte,
        tente tamanho fastio.

        CAT. Inde bem, por minha vida,
        porque eu mana sam perdida
        por Fernando de meu tio.
    200 Seu com elle nam casar
        damores mey de finar.
        Aborreceme Gon[c,]alo
        como o cu do nosso galo,
        nam no queria sonhar.

    205 FEL. [p] Se tu nam queres a elle
        nem elle tampouco a ti.

        CAT. Quanta selle quer a mi
        negras maas nouas van delle.
        Deos me case com Fernando
    210 & moura logo esse dia,
        porque me mate a alegria
        como o nojo vay matando.
    [p] Oo Fernando de meu tio
        que eu vi polo meu pecado!

    215 FEL. Fernando, esse teu damado,
        casaua comigo a furto.

        CAT. Dize, rogoto, ha muito?

        FEL. Este sabado passado.

        CAT. Oo Jesu, como he maluado,
    220 & os hom[~e]s cheos denganos,
        que por mi vay em tres annos
        que diz que he demoninhado.
    [p] Felipa, gingras tu ou nam?
        Isso creo que he chufar,
    225 e se tu queres gingrar
        nam me des no cora[c,]am,
        que o que doe nam he z[~o]bar.

        FEL. Elle veo ter comigo
        bem oo penedo da palma
    230 & disse: Felipa, minhalma,
        rayuo por casar com tigo;
        Digo eu, digo:
        Vay, vay nadar, que faz calma.

        CAT. [p] Olha tu se zombaua elle.

    235 FEL. Bem conhe[c,]o eu zombaria:
        vi eu, porque eu nam queria,
        correr as lagrimas delle.

        CAT. Maos choros chorem por elle,
        que assi chora elle comigo
    240 & vayselhe o gado oo trigo
        & sois nam olha parelle.

        FEL. [p] Eu vou casuso ao cabe[c,]o
        por ver se vejo o meu gado.

        CAT. Tal me deyxas por meu fado
    245 que do meu todo mesque[c,]o.
        Quem soubesse no come[c,]o
        o cabo do que come[c,]a
        porque logo se conhe[c,]a
        o queu jagora conhe[c,]o.

[p] Vem Fernando cantando:

    250 [p] Com que olhos me olhaste
        que tam bem vos pareci?
        Tam asinha moluidaste?
        quem te disse mal de mi?

        CAT. [p] A que v[~e]s, Fern[~a]do h[~o]rrado?
    255 Ver Felipa tua senhora?
        Venhas muito da maa hora
        pera ti e pera o gado.

        FERN. Catalina! Catalina! assi
        tolhes ma fala, Catalina?
    260 Olha yeramaa pera mi,
        pois que me tu sees assi
        carrancuda e tam mofina
        quem te disse mal de mi?
        Com que olhos me olhaste, &c.

    265 CAT. [p] Dize, rogoto, Fernando,
        porque me trazes vendida?
        Se Felipa he a tua querida
        porque me andas enganando?

        FERN. Eu mouro, tu estaas zombando.

    270 CAT. Oo que nam zombo, Jesu.
        Nam casauas coella tu?

        FERN. Eu estou della chufando.
    [p] Catalina, esta he a verdade,
        nam creias a ninguem nada,
    275 que tu me tens bem atada
        alma & a vida & a vontade.

        CAT. Pois que choraste coella
        nam ha hi mais no querer.

        FERN. De chorar bem pode ser
    280 mas nam choraueu por ella.
    [p] Felipa auultase contigo,
        vendoa fosteme lembrar,
        entam puseme a chorar
        as lembran[c,]as do meu perigo.
    285 Se ella o tomou por si
        que culpa lhe tenho eu?
        Mas este amor quem mo deu
        deumo todo para ti
        & bem sabes tu quee teu.

    290 CAT. Oo que grande amor te tenho
        & que grande mal te quero.

        FERN. Ja de tudo desespero,
        que ja mal nem bem nam quero.

        Teu pae tem te ja casada
    295 com Gon[c,]alo dantem[~a]o
        & eu fico por esse ch[~a]o
        sem me ficar de ti nada
        senam dor de cora[c,]om.
    [p] Vertaas em outro poder
    300 vertaas em outro logar,
        eu logo sem mais tardar
        frade prometo de ser
        pois os diabos quiseram
        & ali me deyxaram
    305 tanta de magina[c,]am
        quanta teus olhos me deram
        desdo dia dacen[c,]am.

        CAT. [p] Mas casemos, daa ca m[~a]o
        & dirlhey que sam casada.

    310 FERN. Ja tenho palaura dada
        a Deos de religiam.
        Ja nam tenho em mi nada.

        CAT. Oo quantos perigos tem
        este triste mar damores
    315 & cada vez sam mayores
        as tormentas que lhe vem.
    [p] Se tu a ser frade vas
        nunca me veram marido:
        tu seraas frade metido,
    320 porem tu me meteraas
        na fim da Raynha Dido.

        FERN. Nam se poderaa escusar
        de casares com Gon[c,]alo
        & querendo tu escusalo
    325 nam no podes acabar,
        que teu pae ha dacabalo.

        CAT. [p] Se libera nos a malo!
        Nunca Deos ha de querer
        & Gon[c,]alo nam me quer
    330 nem eu nam quero a Gon[c,]alo.
        Eylo vem, velo Fernando?
        bem em cima na portela;
        diante vem Madanela,
        aquella andelle buscando.

    335 [p] [FERN.] Vamolos nos espreitar
        ali detras do valado
        & veremos seu cuydado
        se te da em que cuydar
        ou se fala desuiado.

340 [p] Vem Madanela cantando & Gon[c,]alo detras della.

Cantiga.

    [p] Quando aqui choue & neva
        que faraa na serra?
        Na serra de Coimbra
    345 neuaua & chouia,
        que faraa na serra?

Falado.

    [p] Gon[c,]alo, tu a que vens?

        GON[C,]. Madanela, Madanela!

    350 MAD. Tornate maa hora & nella
        que tam pouco empacho t[~e]s!

        GON[C,]. Madanela, Madanela!

        MAD. Oo decho dou eu a amargura
        quasi magasta, Jesu.
    355 Ora tras mi te v[~e]s tu?

        GON[C,]. Pois a mi se mafigura
        que nam maas de comer cru.
    [p] Se tu me queres matar
        por teu ter boa vontade
    360 nam pode ser de verdade.

        MAD. Gon[c,]alo, torna a laurar
        que isso tudo he vaidade.

        GON[C,]. Que rezam me das tu a mi
        pera nam casar comigo?
    365 Eu ey de ter muyto trigo
        & ey te de ter a ti
        mais doce que hum pintisirgo.
    [p] Nam quero que vas mondar,
        nam quero que andes oo sol,
    370 pera ti seja o folgar
        e pera mi fazer prol.
        Queres Madanela?

        MAD. Gon[c,]alo, torna a laurar
        porque eu nam ey de casar
    375 em toda a serra destrella
        nem te presta prefiar.
    [p] Catalina he muyto boa,
        fermosa quanto lhabasta,
        querte bem, he de boa casta
    380 & bem sesuda pessoa.
        Toma tu o que te d[~a]o
        em paga do que desejas.

        GON[C,]. Ay rogote que nam sejas
        aya do meu cora[c,]am.

    385 MAD. Vayte di, que paruoejas.

        GON[C,]. [p] Nam quero casar coella.

        MAD. Nem eu tam pouco com tigo.
        Vees? casuso vem Rodrigo
        tras Felipa, que he aquella
    390 que nam no estima num figo.

[p] Vem Rodrigo cantando:

        Vayamonos [~a]bos, amor, vayamos,
        vayamonos ambos.
        Felipa & Rodrigo passaram o rio,
        amor vayamonos.
    395 [p] Felipa, como te vay?

        FEL. Que t[~e]s tu de ver co isso?
        Dias ha que teu auiso
        que vas gingrar com teu pay.

        ROD. Nam estou eu, mana, nisso.

    400 FEL. Quem te mette a ti comigo?

        ROD. Felipa, olha pera ca,
        dame essa m[~a]o eyaramaa.

        FEL. Tirte, tirte eramaa laa,
        tu que diabo has comigo?

    405 ROD. [p] Felipa, ja tu aqui es?

        FEL. Rodrigo, ja tu come[c,]as?
        Tu t[~e]s das maas v[~a]s cabe[c,]as,
        nam quero ser descortees.

        ROD. Nem queyras tu er ser assi
    410 grauisca & escandalosa;
        mas tem gra[c,]a pera mi,
        como tu es graciosa
        & fermosa pera ti.

        FEL. Cada hum saa de regrar
    415 em pedir o que he rezam:
        tu pedesmo cora[c,]am
        & eu nam to ey de dar
        porquee muy fora de m[~a]o.
        E quanto monta a casar
    420 ainda queu guarde gado
        meu pay he juyz honrrado
        dos melhores do lugar
        & o mais aparentado.
    [p] E andou na corte assaz
    425 & faloulhe el Rey ja
        dizendo-lhe: Affonso vaz
        em fronteyra e moncarraz
        como val o trigo la?
        Ora eu pera casar ca,
    430 Rodrigo, nam he rezam.

        ROD. Se casasses com paa[c,]om
        que grande gra[c,]a seraa
        & minha consola[c,]am.
    [p] Que te chame de ratinha
    435 tinhosa cada mea hora,
        inda que a alma me chora,
        folgarey por vida minha.
        Pois engeytas quem tadora;
        e te diga: tirte la,
    440 que me cheyras a cartaxo.
        Pois te desprezas do bayxo
        o alto tabaxaraa.

        FEL. [p] Quando vejo hum cortesam
        com pantufos de veludo
    445 & h[~u]a viola na m[~a]o
        tresandamo cora[c,]am
        & leuame a alma & tudo.

        ROD. Gon[c,]alo, vayme ajudar
        aacabar minha charrua
    450 & eu tajudarey aa tua.
        Que estoutro sa dacabar
        quando a dita vir a sua.

        GON[C,]. Eu sam ja desenganado
        quanto monta a Madanella.

    455 ROD. Deuetela dir com ella
        como mami vay mal peccado
        com Felipa.

        GON[C,].     Assi he ella.

        ROD. E tu, Rodrigo, em que estaas?

        FERN. Estou em muito & em nada,
    460 porque a vida namorada
        tem cousas boas & maas.

[p] Vem hum hermitam & diz:

        HERM. [p] Fazeyme esmola, pastores,
        por amor do senhor Deos.

        ROD. Mas fa[c,]a elle esmola a nos,
    465 & seja que estes amores
        se atem com senhos nos.

        HERM. O casar Deos o prouee
        & de Deos vem a ventura,
        da ventura aa criatura
    470 mas com dita he por merce
        & tambem serue a cordura.
    [p] Pondevos nas suas m[~a]os
        & n[~a]o cureis descolher,
        tomay o que vos vier
    475 porque estes amores v[~a]os
        teram certo arrepender.
        Filhas, aqui estais escritas,
        Filhos, tomay vossa sorte,
        & cada hum se comporte
    480 dando gra[c,]as infinitas
        a Deos & a el Rey & a corte.

[p] Tirou o ermitam da manga tres papelinhos & os deu aos pastores, que
tomasse cada hum sua sorte & diz Fernando:

    [p] Rodrigo tome primeyro,
        veremos como se guia.

        ROD. Nome da virgem Maria!
    485 lede, padre, esse letreyro,
        se me cega ou alumia.

        Escri. Deos & a ventura manda
        que quem esta sorte ouuer
        tome logo por molher
    490 Felipa sem mais demanda.

        ROD. [p] Vencida tenho eu a batalha,
        Felipa, mana, vem caa.

        FEL. Tirte, tirte, eramaa laa,
        & tu cuydas que te valha?
    495 Nunca teu olho veraa.

        GON[C,]. Ora vay, Fernando, tu,
        veremos que te viraa.

        FERN. Alto nome de Jesu!
        lede, padre, que vay la?

Escrito.

    500 [p] A senten[c,]a he ja dada
        & a sustancia della
        que cases com Madanela.

        MAD. Fernando, nam me da nada,
        seja muytembora & nella.

    505 FERN. Dias ha que to eu digo
        & tu tinhas me fastio.

        CAT. Oo Fernando de meu tio
        quem me casara com tigo!

        GON[C,]. [p] Oo Madanela, yeramaa,
    510 se me cayras em sorte!

        CAT. Ante eu morrera maa morte
        que Fernando ficar laa
        tam contrayro do meu norte.
        E porem nam me da nada,
    515 ja me tu a mi pareces bem,
        Gon[c,]alo.

        GON[C,].    E tu a mi
        Catalina; mudate di
        y passea per hi alem,
        verey que aar das de ti.

    520 FEL. [p] Estouteu, Rodrigo, olhando,
        & vou sendo ja contente.

        ROD. Se de mi nam es contente
        nam tey dandar mais rogando.
        Eu andote namorando
    525 & tu acossasme cada dia.

        CAT. Inda queu isso fazia,
        Rodrigo, de quando em qu[~a]do,
        muy grande bem te queria.
    [p] E quando eu refusaua
    530 de te tomar por amigo
        nam ja porque eu nam folgaua
        mas porque te examinaua
        se eras tu mo[c,]o atreuido.

        HERM. Agoro quero eu dizer
    535 o que aqui venho buscar.
        Eu desejo dabitar
        h[~u]a ermida a meu prazer
        onde podesse folgar.
        E queriaa eu achar feyta
    540 por nam c[~a]sar em fazela,
        que fosse a minha cella
        antes bem larga que estreyta
        & que podesse eu dan[c,]ar nella.
        E que fosse num deserto
    545 denfindo vinho & p[~a]o,
        & a fonte muyto perto
        & longe a contempla[c,][~a]o.
    [p] Muyta ca[c,]a & pescaria
        que podesse eu ter coutada
    550 & a casa temperada:
        no veram que fosse fria
        & quente na inuernada.
        A cama muyto mimosa
        & hum crauo aa cabeceyra,
    555 de cedro a sua madeyra;
        porque a vida religiosa
        queria eu desta maneyra.
    [p] E fosse o meu repousar
        & dormir atee tais horas
    560 que nam podesse rezar
        por ouuir cantar pastoras
        & outras assouiar.
        Aa cea & jantar perdiz,
        o almo[c,]o moxama,
    565 & vinho do seu matiz,
        & que a filha do juyz
        me fizesse sempre a cama.
    [p] E em quanto eu rezasse
        esquecesse ella as ouelhas
    570 & na cela me abra[c,]asse
        & mordesse nas orelhas,
        inda que me lastimasse.
        Irm[~a]os pois deueis saber
        da serra toda a guarida
    575 prazauos de me dizer
        onde poderey fazer
        esta minha sancta vida.

        GON[C,]. [p] Estaa alli, padre, hum siluado
        vi[c,]oso, verde, florido,
    580 com espinho tam comprido,
        e vos nuu alli deytado
        perderieis o proido.
        Yuos, nam esteis hi mais,
        porque a vida que buscais
    585 nam na da Deos verdadeyro
        inda que lha vos pe[c,]ais.

        SERRA. [p] Ora, filhos, logo essora,
        cada hum com sua esposa,
        vamos ver a poderosa
    590 Raynha nossa Senhora,
        sem nenhum de vos por grosa,
        porque he for[c,]oso que va,
        que segundo minha fama
        da Raynha ey de ser ama
    595 & a isso vou eu la.
    [p] Que tal leyte como o meu
        nam no ha em Portugal,
        que tenho tanto & tal
        e tam fino Deos mo deu
    600 que he manteyga & nam al.
        E pois ha de ser senhora
        de tam grande gado & terra
        quem outra ama lhe der erra,
        porque a perfeyta pastora
    605 ha de ser da minha serra.

        GON[C,]. [p] Ha mester grandes presentes
        das vilas, casaes & aldea.

        SERRA. Mandaraa a vila de Sea
        quinhentos queyjos resentes,
    610 todos feytos aa candea,
        e mais trezentas bezerras
        & mil ouelhas meyrinhas
        & dozentas cordeyrinhas
        taes que em nenh[~u]as serras
    615 nam se achem tam gordinhas.
    [p] E Gouuea mandaraa
        dous mil sacos de castanha
        tam grossa, tam san, tamanha
        que se marauilharaa
    620 onde tal cousa se apanha.
        E Manteygas lhe daraa
        leyte para quatorze annos,
        & Couilham muytos panos
        finos que se fazem laa.
    625 [p] Mandaraam desses casaes
        que estam no cume da serra
        pena pera cabe[c,]aes
        toda de aguias Reaes,
        naturaes mesmo da terra.
    630 E os do val dos penados
        & montes dos tres caminhos
        que estam em fortes montados
        mandar[~a]o empresentados
        trezentos forros darminhos
    635 pera forrar os borcados.
    [p] Eu ey lhe de presentar
        minas douro que eu sey
        com tanto que ella ou el Rey
        o mandem ca apanhar,
    640 abasta que lho criey.

        GON[C,]. E afora ainda aos presentes
        auemos lhe de cantar
        muyto alegres & contentes
        polla Deos alumiar
    645 por alegria das gentes.

Vem dous foli[~o]es do Sardoal, hum se chama Jorge e outro Lopo, & diz a
Serra:

    [p] Sois vos de Castella, manos,
        ou la debayxo do estremo?

        JOR. Agora nos faria o demo
        a nos outros Castellanos.
    650 Queria antes ser lagarto
        polos sanctos auangelhos.

        SERRA. Donde sois?

        JOR.            Do Sardoal,
        & ou bebela ou vertela,
        vimos ca desafiar
    655 a toda a serra da estrela
        a cantar & a baylar.

        ROD. [p] Soberba he isso perem
        pois haqui tantos pastores
        & tam finos bayladores
    660 que nam ham medo a ninguem.

        LOPO. Muytos ratinhos vam la
        de ca da serra a ganhar
        & la os vemos cantar
        & baylar bem coma ca
    665 & he assi desta fey[c,]am.

[p] Canta Lopo & bayla, arremedando os da serra.

    [p] E se ponerey la mano en vos
        Garrido amor!
    [p] Hum amigo que eu auia
        man[c,]anas douro menuia,
    670 Garrido amor!
    [p] Hum amigo que eu amaua
        man[c,]anas douro me manda,
        Garrido amor!
    [p] Man[c,]anas douro menuia
    675 a milhor era partida,
        Garrido amor!
    [p] [Man[c,]anas douro me manda,
        a milhor era quebrada,
        Garrido amor!]

Falado.

    680 [p] Isso he, ou bem ou mal,
        assi como o vos fazeis.

        SERRA. Pe[c,]ouolo que canteis
        aa guisa do Sardoal.

        LOPO. Esse he outro carrascal,
    685 esperay ora & vereis:
    [p] Ja nam quer minha senhora
        que lhe fale em apartado.
        Oo que mal tam alongado!
    [p] Minha senhora me disse
    690 que me quer falar um dia
        agora por meu peccado
        disseme que nam podia.
        Oo que mal tam alongado!
    [p] Minha senhora me disse
    695 que me queria falar,
        agora por meu peccado
        nam me quer ver nem olhar.
        Oo que mal tam alongado!
        Agora por meu peccado
    700 disseme que nam podia,
        yrmey triste polo mundo
        onde me leuar a dita.
        Oo que mal tam alongado!

[p] Esta cantiga cantar[~a]o & baylar[~a]o de terreyro os foli[~o]es, &
acabada diz Felipa:

    [p] Nam vos vades vos assi,
    705 leixay ora a gayta vir
        & o nosso tamboril,
        & yreis mortos daqui
        sem vos saberdes bolir.

        CAT. Em tanto por vida minha
    710 seraa bem que ordenemos
        a nossa chacotezinha
        & con ella nos yremos
        ver el Rey e a Raynha.

[p] Ordenaramse todos estes pastores em chacota, como la se costuma,
porem a cantiga della foy cantada de canto dorgam, & a letra he a
seguinte:

    [p] Nam me firais, madre,
    715 que eu direy a verdade.
    [p] Madre, hum escudeyro
        da nossa Raynha
        falou me damores,
        vereis que dezia,
    720 eu direy a verdade.
    [p] Falou me damores,
        vereis que dezia:
        quem te me tiuesse
        desnuda em camisa!
    725 Eu direi a verdade.

[p] E com esta chacota se sayram & assi se acabou.

                            [p] LAUS DEO.


NOTES:

0. _Esta tragecomedia pastoril foy feyta_ B.

0. _com hum parvo & diz_ C.

2. _estrella_ B.

4. _Castella_ B.

7. _yr_ B.

24. _despa[~n]a_ B.

34. _quant'elle_ C.

53, 54. _Imperatriz_, _Imperador_ C.

100. _faz un rey cousas_ B.

102. _atraues_ B. _a trav['e]s_ C.

109. _t['o]s_ C.

116. _d['a]-lhe_ C.

123. _phantesia_ C.

125. _querera_ B.

127. _seguem dous a[c,]ores_ C.

135. _reccado_ C.

152. _lendes_ C.

159. _porque_ A, B, C, D, E. _porqu'['e]_ ?

161. _cures_ A, B. _cuides_ C.

167. _do mel[~a]o_ A, B. _de mel[~a]o_ C.

172. _Arrenega tu_ A, B. _Arrenego eu_ C.

179. _outra_ A, B. _outrem_ C.

196. _tem-te_ C.

197. _Inda_ C.

231. _com tigo_ A, B. _comtigo_ C.

261. _s[^e]s_ C.

265. _rogoto_ A. _rogo-te_ C.

276. _alma_ A. _a alma_ C.

284. _do_ A. _de_ C.

299, 300. _ver-te-has_ C.

308. _ca m[~a]o_ A, B. _ca a m[~a]o_ C.

327. _libara_ B.

328. _querelo_ A, B. _quer[^e]-lo_ C, D, E.

332. _bem_ A, B. _vem_ C, D, E.

353. _eu amargura_ B.

354. _quasi_ A, B. _qu'assi_ C.

378. _lhe basta_ C.

392. _vayamonos_ A. _vayamos_ C.

407. _maas_ A. _mais_ C.

408. _descortees_ A. _descortes_ B. _descortez_ C.

427. _moncarraz_ A, B. _Mon[c,]arraz_ C.

456. _mami_ A. _a mi_ C.

462. Desunt 462-577 in B.

469. _a creatura_ C.

477. _escriptas_ C.

482. _& diz Fernando_ A. _& diz o Ermit[~a]o_ C.

487. _Escri._ A. _(L[^e] o Ermit[~a]o o escrito)_ C.

498. _alto, nome_ C.

499-500. _Escrito_ A. _(L[^e] o Ermit[~a]o)_ C.

530: _amigo_ A, B, C, D, E. _marido_ ?

545: _D'infindo_ C.

566. Desunt 566-8 in C.

608. _Cea_ C.

609. _recentes_ C.

613. _duzentas_ C.

618. _tan grossa, tam san._ B.

628. _Aguias reaes._ B.

630. _penedos._ B. _Penados._ C.

635. _brocados._ C.

645-6. Desunt _hum se chama._ et _outro._ in C. _Iorge._ C.

647. _extremo._ C.

649. _Castelhanos._ C.

655. _estrella_ B.

660. _ham_ A. _ha hi_ C.

668. _auia, havia_ A, B, C, D, E. _queria_?

685-6. _Cantiga_ B.

711. _chacotezinha_ A, B. _chacotazinha_ C.

713-4. _he a seguinte Cantiga_ C.

Note. ad fin. [p] _Laus Deo_ B.


ENGLISH TRANSLATION:

          _Pastoral tragicomedy of the Serra da Estrella._

_A pastoral tragicomedy made in honour of and played before the very
powerful and catholic King Dom John III of Portugal on the delivery of
the most high Queen Dona Caterina our lady and the birth of the most
illustrious Infanta Dona Maria, afterwards Princess of Castille, in the
city of Coimbra in the Year of the Lord 1527._

_Enters the Serra da Estrella and says:_

        Joy that shakes and wakes the hill,
        The mighty mountain-range of me,
        Will increase the swelling sea
        And the sky with singing fill
      5 Till Castilla dance in glee.
        And in this hour it is my will
        That the whole of me, no less,
        To Coimbra as a shepherdess,
        A Beira peasant-girl, shall come,
     10 Since in Beira is my home.
        With me thither they who are mine,
        The hill-girls of nut-brown tresses,
        Each with her lover shall repair,
        Yea and all the shepherdesses
     15 Who flocks upon my pastures keep.
        And the choicest of the kine
        And of the merino sheep,
        That I may have to offer there
        A present to our Queen of Queens
     20 Who is fairest of the fair.
        Mistress she of broad demesnes
        Came unto our mountain land
        And among the hills hath she
        Borne a new princess of Spain
     25 That we give to her again,
        Even a rose imperial
        As the most high Isabel,
        An image of Gabriel
        For the repose of Portugal,
     30 Its precious ward and canopy.
        So clearly is God's purpose planned.

        _Fool._ Good faith, no, not a whit he knows
        But the Virgin Mary knows.
        But he unto no good inclines
     35 And only serves to burn the vines.

        _Serra._ What a thing for thee to say!

        _Fool._ Who? God? why, now, I swear to God
        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 God 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 Gon[c,]alo, 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, Gon[c,]alo, 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 God assist 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 shine
        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 god of victory,
        And the winds that very morn
        Brought rain needed instantly
        For the birth of grass and corn.

    100 _Fool._ Sometimes God, it is a fact,
        Sometimes, I say, God 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 lusty 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._ Gon[c,]alo, 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 assert,
    150 Is she and if unsewn her skirt
        Not a stitch 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 shilling.

        _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.
        God 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 Gon[c,]alo 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 Gon[c,]alo 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.

        _C._ Was that long ago, I pray?

        _F._ It was but on last Saturday.

        _C._ What a villain then is he,
    220 And men how full of all deceits,
        For he these last three years repeats
        That he's distraught for love of me.
        Felipa, dost thou speak in jest?
        I think indeed thou triflest,
    225 But if with words thou wouldest play,
        Do not play upon my heart
        Since no jest is in the smart.

        _F._ He came to me in the heat of the day,
        To the rock of the palm came he,
    230 'Felipa, my life,' said he straightway,
        'I am mad to marry thee.'
        And I say, say I to him:
        'Go away and have a swim.'

        _C._ Perhaps he was but mocking thee.

    235 _F._ Nay I know what's mockery
        And because I said him No
        I could see his tears downflow.

        _C._ Ill be the tears that are so shed,
        For with me also he will weep,
    240 And the crops may be eaten by his sheep,
        He does not even turn his head.

        _F._ Well, I must go up the hill,
        Perhaps my flock may be in sight.

        _C._ Thou leavest me in a plight so ill
    245 That I've forgotten mine outright.
        If one could but only know
        All the end in the beginning
        That one might have straightway so
        Knowledge that I now am winning!

_Enter Ferdinand, singing:_

    250 With what eyes thou lookedst upon me
        That so fair I seemed to thee:
        How have other thoughts now won thee?
        Who has spoken ill of me?

        _C._ Good Ferdinand, art thou here
    255 To see Felipa, thy lady dear?
        But may thy coming even be
        Ill for thy flock and ill for thee.

        _F._ Catherina, thus wouldst thou
        Deprive me of all power of speech?
    260 Look straight at me, I beseech.
        But if thus thou changest now
        With lowering and angry brow,
        'Who has spoken ill of me?
        With what eyes thou lookedst upon me?' etc.

    265 _C._ Tell me, Ferdinand, I pray
        Why thou wouldest me betray?
        If Felipa is thy love,
        Why me thus with treachery prove?

        _F._ By my life, thou'rt mocking me today.

    270 _C._ O no, I jest not: didst not say
        That thou with her wouldst gladly wed?

        _F._ 'Twas but for fun the words were said.
        In what I say will truth be found
        And believe no one else, I pray.
    275 For as for me my life alway
        And soul and will in thee are bound.

        _C._ With weeping since thy eyes were red
        Needs must be that thou lov'st her well.

        _F._ I may have wept, I cannot tell,
    280 But not for her my tears were shed.
        Felipa's not unlike thee, so
        At sight of her I thought of thee
        And fell to weeping bitterly
        At memory of all my woe.
    285 And if she thought my tears did flow
        For her, how should I be to blame?
        For my love ever is the same
        On thee, thee only to bestow,
        And that it's thine well dost thou know.

    290 _C._ How I hate thee, how I love thee,
        Ferdinand, were it mine to prove thee!

        _F._ Now despair I utterly,
        Yes, I am most desperate,
        And good and ill come all too late.
        For thy father has married thee
    295 To Gon[c,]alo, and desolate
        I here remain, alone, deserted,
        Nothing of thee left to me
        But to be thus broken-hearted.
        And another's shalt thou be,
    300 Taken to another place,
        And I, by the Devil's grace,
        Promise that I instantly
        Will a monk become: in fine
        So much of thee shall be mine
    305 In imagination's play
        As was given me on that day
        When thine eyes began to shine.

        _C._ Nay, but give me thy hand instead
        And I will say that I am wed.

    310 _F._ Alas I have nothing now to give.
        My promise is already said
        That I will in a convent live.

        _C._ How many perils mar the peace
        Of this gloomy sea of love,
    315 From day to day they still increase
        And its tempests greater prove.
        If a monk then thou must be
        Husband mine will ne'er be seen:
        If a monk thou must be, for me
    320 Thou leavest of necessity
        The fate of Dido, hapless queen.

        _F._ Thou wilt find no sure escape
        With Gon[c,]alo not to marry,
        For whatever plans thou shape
    325 Thou wilt never round the cape
        And thy father the day will carry.

        _C._ O deliver us from ill!
        May such never be my lot,
        For Gon[c,]alo loves me not,
    330 And Gon[c,]alo I love less still.
        But there he comes, see, Ferdinand,
        Above there in the mountain pass,
        And Madanela goes before,
        She it is that he searches for.

    335 _F._ Behind this hedge here we will stand
        And listen to them as they pass
        And we will see what's in his mind
        And if to thee he be inclined
        Or if thou art given o'er.

    340 _Enter Madanela, singing, and behind her Gon[c,]alo:_

(_Song:_)

        When here below there's rain and snow
        What will it be on the mountain-height?
        On the hills of Coimbra 'twas snowing
    345   and raining,
        What will it be on the mountain-height?

(_Spoken:_)

        Gon[c,]alo, what is your pretence?

        _G._ Madanela, Madanela!

    350 _M._ Go back at once, I say, go hence,
        Since thou hast so little sense.

        _G._ Madanela, Madanela!

        _M._ What another plague is here,
        What annoyance, by my soul!
    355 What, wouldst thou now follow me?

        _G._ I suppose I need not fear
        That thou shouldst eat me whole.
        But if me thou wouldest kill
        Because of this my love for thee
    360 Not serious surely is thy will.

        _M._ Gon[c,]alo, go back, go back to thy plough,
        For all this is but vanity.

        _G._ What reason canst thou give me now
        To refuse to marry me?
    365 I shall have of wheat enow
        And thy life with me shall be
        As a goldfinch's free from toil.
        I will not have thee hoe the soil,
        I will not have thee work in the sun,
    370 But thou shalt sit and take thy ease
        And by me all the work be done.
        Art thou willing, Madanela?

        _M._ Gon[c,]alo, go back, go back to thy plough,
        With none will I marry, I avow,
    375 In the whole Serra da Estrella,
        In vain wilt thou persist and tease.
        Catalina is a very good girl
        And fair enough, though not a pearl,
        Comes of good stock and loves thee well,
    380 And she is very sensible.
        Then take what's offered thee and so
        Shalt balm of thy desire know.

        _G._ Nay, but I pray thee do not seek
        To teach my heart what way to go.

    385 _M._ Go hence, if nonsense thou must speak.

        _G._ I say I will not marry her.

        _M._ And I will not marry thee.
        But yonder comes Rodrigo, see,
        After Felipa, and I aver
    390 That not a fig for him cares she.

_Enter Rodrigo, singing:_

        My love, let's be going, be going together,
        Be going together.
        Rodrigo and Felipa were crossing the river,
        My love, let's be going.
    395 How is it, Felipa, with thee?

        _F._ And what business is that of thine?
        Days past I've bidden thee thy chatter
        To thy father to confine.

        _R._ But that, my dear, does not suit me.

    400 _F._ And why drag me into the matter?

        _R._ Felipa, turn thy eyes this way
        And give me that fair hand of thine.

        _F._ Away, away with thee, I say,
        What art thou to me, in the name of evil?

    405 _R._ So, Felipa, thou art here, I see.

        _F._ Rodrigo, wouldst thou begin again?
        If ever there was feather-brain,
        But I would not be uncivil.

        _R._ Would then that thou mightest be
    410 Now less shrewish and unkind.
        Yet even that is to my mind,
        So charming art thou unto me
        So graceful and so fair to see.

        _F._ Everyone should regulate
    415 At reason's bidding his request,
        Thou my heart requirest
        But I cannot give thee that
        Nor listen to thee save in jest.
        And as to my marrying I wis,
    420 Although I keep the sheep, withal
        An honoured judge my father is
        And by his side the rest are small,
        He's best related of them all.
        At Court too he's been many a day
    425 And the king once spoke to him, to say:
        'In the district of Monsarraz
        And Fronteira, Affonso Vaz,
        What is the price of wheat, I pray?'
        So that here to marry would be for me,
    430 Rodrigo, to act unreasonably.

        _R._ Shouldest thou a courtier marry
        What amusement unto me
        And consolation that would carry!
        For if as a country-lout he harry
    435 Thee all day and for evermore,
        Would I, what though my heart should grieve,
        Rejoice, since, though I thee adore,
        Me thus contemptuously dost thou leave,
        And if he bid thee keep thy place
    440 As being but of low degree:
        Since thou despisest such as me
        Thee shall the mighty then abase.

        _F._ When I see a courtier fine
        With his velvet slippers, and
    445 His viola in his hand,
        'Tis all up with this heart of mine
        Nor can I his ways withstand.

        _R._ Gon[c,]alo, come help me now
        At the labour of my plough
    450 And I'll help thee anon with thine.
        For as to the other 'twill be in fine
        When its fortune shall allow.

        _G._ As for Madanela, I
        Have ceased at last my luck to try.

    455 _R._ Ah! then the same thing it must be
        As with Felipa and me.

        _G._ Yes, 'tis even so we stand.

        _R._ And how is't with thee, Ferdinand?

        _F._ I am in both smiles and frowns,
    460 And a lover's life is planned
        In a maze of ups and downs.

_Enters a hermit who says:_

        _H._ Shepherds, for love of God, on me
        Pray bestow your charity.

        _R._ Rather him it now behoves
    465 Charitable towards us to be
        And tie the knots of all our loves.

        _H._ Marrying is in God's hand
        And from Him comes fortune too,
        For by His especial grace
    470 All men fortune may embrace
        And good sense assists thereto.
        Place yourselves beneath His sway,
        Take not any thought to choose
        But receive what comes your way,
    475 For these idle loves, I say,
        You'll in sure repentance lose.
        Your names, my daughters, here you
        leave;
        My sons, now each your lot receive:
        Behave yourselves in such a sort
    480 That you your infinite thanks shall give
        To God, and to the King and Court.

_The hermit takes from his sleeve three small written pieces of paper
and gives them to the shepherds that each may take his lot, and
Ferdinand says:_

        Rodrigo shall the first lot claim.
        We'll see now if he acts aright.

        _R._ In the Virgin Mary's name
    485 Read it, padre, for the same
        Brings to me my day or night.

_The hermit reads the writing:_

        'By Fortune's and by God's command
        Whosoever draws this lot
        Shall to Felipa give his hand,
    490 Shall do so and reason not.'

        _R._ I have won the victory,
        Felipa, come hither to me, my dear.

        _F._ Away with thee, away, dost hear,
        Thinkest thou this will profit thee?
    495 Ne'er such a victory shalt thou see.

        _G._ Draw thy lot now, Ferdinand,
        Let's see what for thee is planned.

        _F._ Here goes then in the name of Heaven;
        Read, padre, what is written there.

_The hermit reads:_

    500 'The sentence is already given
        And its substance doth declare
        That thou shalt Madanela wed.'

        _M._ Well, Ferdinand, I do not care,
        If it must be so, no more be said.

    505 _F._ Many a day hast thou heard that from me
        But thou e'er hadst me in disdain.

        _C._ O Ferdinand, my uncle's swain,
        Would that I might marry thee!

        _G._ O Madanela, if only now
    510 We had come together, I and thou.

        _C._ Rather might I straight expire
        Than that Ferdinand should stay there
        So remote from my desire.
        Yet I do not greatly care,
    515 Since to thee I am inclined,
        Gon[c,]alo.

        _G._      And even so,
        Catalina, art thou to my mind,
        But come away that I may know
        What graces I in thee shall find.

    520 _F._ Rodrigo, as I look upon thee
        I begin to grow content.

        _R._ If to that I have not won thee
        By me no further prayers be spent.
        For while I have courted thee
    525 Daily hast thou flouted me.

        _C._ Though from time to time I thus,
        Rodrigo, behaved, truly
        Very fond was I of thee.
        And when most contemptuous
    530 Thy wife I refused to be
        'Twas not that I had no love
        But, that I tested thee, to prove
        The heart of thy audacity.

        _Hermit._ Now I have a mind to say
    535 What I came to look for here.
        For my wish it is to stay
        In a hermitage that may
        Yield me plenty of good cheer.
        Ready-made would I find it: ill
    540 Could I all these joys fulfil
        Worn out by toil and labour fell.
        Wide not narrow be my cell
        That I may dance therein at will;
        Be it in a desert land
    545 Yielding wine and wheat alway,
        With a fountain near at hand
        And contemplation far away.
        Much fish and game in brake and pool
        Must I have for my own preserve
    550 And as for my house it must never swerve
        From an even temperature, cool
        In summer and in winter warm.
        Yes, and a comfortable bed
        Would not do me any harm,
    555 All of it of cedar-wood,
        A harpsichord hung at its head:
        So do I find a monk's life good.
        I would lie and take my rest
        And sleep on far into the day
    560 So that I could not my matins say
        For noise of the whistling and the singing
        Of shepherdesses' songs clear ringing.
        On partridge would I sup and dine,
        Of stockfish should my luncheon be
    565 And of wine the very best.
        And the Judge's daughter should make for me
        The bed on which I would recline.
        And even as my beads I tell
        She should forget her flock of sheep
    570 And embrace me in my cell
        And bite my ears and make me weep:
        Yes, even thus it would be well.
        My brothers, since you know, I trow
        The recesses of each vale and hill
    575 Be good enough to tell me now
        Where best I may so have my will
        And this holy life fulfil.

        _G._ Yonder, padre, there's a briar
        All in flower, thick and green,
    580 And its thorns are long and dire:
        Naked laid thereon, I ween
        You would soon lose your desire.
        Go and make no further stay,
        For the life you wish to live
    585 The true God will never give
        Howsoe'er for it you pray.

        _Serra._ Come, my sons, now come away,
        Each with his fair bride to-day,
        That our Queen and Sovereign we
    590 May go visit speedily,
        And let none of you gainsay,
        For you must go all together,
        Since, if report say true, I ween
        I as nurse must serve the Queen
    595 And therefore do I go thither.
        Such milk as mine you will not find
        No, not in all Portugal,
        So plentiful and such kind
        As God has bless[`e]d me withal:
    600 Pure butter were not more refined.
        And since she will be princess
        Of such flocks and all this land,
        No other nurse shall be to hand,
        For the perfect shepherdess
    605 My hill-sides alone command.

        _G._ From every village, house and town
        Great presents must with us come down.

        _S._ The town of Sea of its store
        Shall five hundred cheeses send
    610 All home-made, and furthermore
        Of calves will she send thrice five score
        And of her merino sheep
        A thousand, and lambs two hundred keep
        So fat that on no hills you'll find
    615 Any more unto your mind.
        And two thousand sacks Gouvea
        Of chestnuts that there abound
        Of such size, so fine and round
        That all men will wonder where
    620 Things so excellent are found.
        And Manteigas will prepare
        A store of milk for years twice seven,
        By Covilham much fine cloth be given
        That is manufactured there.
    625 From the houses in the heather
        High upon the mountain-top,
        For pillows shall be sent a crop
        All of royal eagles' feather
        That men there are wont to gather.
    630 From the Penados vale below
        And the hills where three roads meet
        That through rough mountain country go
        They will send as present meet
        Three hundred ermines white as snow
    635 As edging of brocades to show.
        Mines of gold too I will bring
        And give all I have within
        If the Queen and if the King
        Order it to be brought in:
    640 Plenty is there there to win.

        _G._ And with presents none the less
        Will we in her honour sing
        With great joy and revelling
        That God hath willed the Queen to bless
    645 For her people's happiness.

_Enter two players from Sardoal, Jorge and Lopo, and the Serra says:_

        From Castille, brothers, do you hale
        Or from down yonder in the vale?

        _J._ Now in the devil's name, amen,
        They would have us be Castilian men
    650 A lizard I would rather be
        By the Holy Gospels verily.

        _S._ Well and from what land come you then?

        _J._ From Sardoal, and by your leave
        We are come hither to defy
    655 The Serra our challenge to receive
        With us in song and dance to vie.

        _R._ 'Tis a proud challenge for your ill,
        For shepherds are so many here
        And their dancing of such skill
    660 That of none need they have fear.

        _L._ Many peasants come yonder too
        From the hills for sustenance
        And we watch them sing and dance
        Even as up here they do:
    665 Their way of it shall you see at a glance.

_Lopo sings and dances in imitation of the men of the Serra:_

        Ah, should I lay my hand on you,
        Love, fair my love.
        A friend of mine, a friend of old,
        Sends unto me apples of gold,
    670 How fair is love!
        A friend I loved, even my friend,
        Apples, apples of gold doth send.
        So fair is love!
        Apples of gold he sends amain,
    675 The best of them was cleft in twain,
        So fair is love!
        [Apples of gold he sends to me,
        The best was cleft for all to see.
        How fair is love!]

(_Spoken:_)

    680 That I think is, well or ill,
        How you dance on fell and hill.
        _S._ But now I would have you sing
        As in Sardoal they do.
        _L._ That is quite another thing,
    685 Wait then and I'll show it you:
        Now no more my lady wills
        That I speak with her alone.
        How am I now woe-begone!
        On a day my lady said
    690 That she would fain speak with me,
        Now I for my sins atone
        Since she says it may not be.
        How am I now woe-begone!
        For to me my lady said
    695 That she fain would speak with me,
        Now I for my sins atone
        Since me now she will not see.
        How am I now woe-begone!
        Now I for my sins atone
    700 Since she says it may not be,
        Through the world will I begone
        Where'er fortune carry me.
        How am I now woe-begone!

_The players sing this song, dancing together, and when it is finished
Felipa says:_

        I pray you go not away so,
    705 But wait until the fiddle come,
        O wait until you hear the drum,
        Then how to move you'll scarcely know
        So dead with dancing shall you go.

        _C._ And meanwhile by my life I ween
    710 'Twere well that we our dance and song
        Should order here upon the green
        And we will go with it along
        To see the King and see the Queen.

_All these shepherds took their places in the dance after their custom,
but its song was sung to the accompaniment of the organ and with the
following words:_

        O strike me not, mother,
    715 The truth I'm confessing.
        For, mother, a squire
        Of our queen all on fire
        With love came to woo me:
        Of what he said to me
    720 The truth I'm confessing.
        He came for to woo me
        And 'O,' said he to me,
        'Were you in my power,
        Alone without dower!'
    725 The truth I'm confessing.

_And with this dance they went out and the play ended._

                            [p] LAUS DEO.




NOTES


AUTO DA ALMA

PAGE 1

The _Auto da Alma_, produced probably in 1518, which in some sense forms
a Portuguese pendant to the _Recuerde el alma_ of Jorge Manrique
(1440?-79), is a Passion play, corresponding to the modern _Stabat_ on
the eve of Good Friday, and was suggested, perhaps, by Juan del Enzina's
_Representacion a la muy bendita pasion y muerte de nuestro precioso
Redentor._ It was not, however, acted in a convent or church, but in the
new riverside palace which saw so many splendid _ser[~o]es_ during King
Manuel's reign (1495-1521). King Manuel was now in the full tide of
prosperity. His sister, Queen Lianor or Eleanor (1458-1525), Gil
Vicente's patroness, who so keenly encouraged Portuguese art and
literature, was the widow (and first cousin) of his predecessor, King
Jo[~a]o II. The theme of the play, the contention of Angel and Devil for
the possession of a human soul, was far from new. Its treatment,
however, was original and the versification is clear-cut and well
sustained throughout, while a deep sincerity and glowing fervour raise
the whole play to the loftiest heights. The metre is mostly in verses of
seven short (8848484) lines (_abcaabc_) with an occasional slight
variation. There is a French version of the play, presumably in verse
(see _Durendal_, No. 10: Oct. 1913: _Le Myst[`e]re de l'[^A]me_; tr. J.
Vandervelden and Luis de Almeida Braga), but the difficult task of
translating it would require, to be successful, the delicate precision
of a Th['e]ophile Gautier. In his hands it might have become in French a
thing of beauty and a joy for ever, as it is in the original Portuguese.
As to the text, without emulating the pedantry of the critic who added a
fourth season to Shelley's three, and thereby provoked a splendid
outburst of wrath from Swinburne, we may assume that in passages where
Vicente appears to have gone out of his way to avoid a required rhyme,
this is merely a case of corruption repeated in successive editions.
Thus in the _Auto Pastoril Portugues_, where _Catalina minha dama_
rhymes with _toucada_ we may perhaps substitute _fada_ for _dama_. (Cf.
_Serra da Estrella_, l. 530: _amigo_ for _marido_.) So here verse 114
must read _tristeza_, not _tristura_, to rhyme with _crueza_. In 3 one
of the _mantimentos_ should perhaps be _alimentos_: see Lucas
Fern['a]ndez, _Farsas_ (1867), p. 247 (cf. the two _vaydades_ in 14); in
26 _fortunas_ should probably read _farturas_ (cf. _essas farturas_ in
the _Dialogo sobre a Ressurrei[c,]am_); in 35 the words _mui fermosos_,
or a single longer word, have evidently dropped out; in 54 _tendes_ was
perhaps an alteration by some critic who did not realize that the Angel
might naturally associate itself with the Church (or with the Soul) and
say _temos_; the last line of 100 was perhaps the word _pecadora_ or _e
senhora_ (cf. Fr. Luis de Le['o]n, _Los Nombres de Cristo_, Bk I: _mi
['u]nica abogada y se[~n]ora_); in 108 also a line is missing and a rhyme
required for _figura_ (_lavrado_ must go with _Deos_, _triste_ with
_vereis_, omitting _seu_). On the other hand it is hardly necessary to
alter 42 or 45 (although here _esmaltado_ is in the air) or 46 so as to
make them exactly fit the metre.

1 _perigos dos immigos_, cf. _Os Trabalhos de Jesus_, 1665 ed. p. 94: _o
caminho do Ceo he cercado de inimigos e perigos para o perder. Qualibus
in tenebris vitae quantisque periclis Degitur hoc aevi quodcunque est!_

7 Cf. Newman, _The Dream of Gerontius_, l. 292 _et seq._:

        O man, strange composite of heaven and earth,
        Majesty dwarfed to baseness, fragrant flower, etc.

7-10 These exquisite verses have something of the scent and perfection
of wild flowers, and that mystic rapture which is not to be found in
Goethe's more worldly _Faust_. We may, if we like, call the _Auto da
Alma_ (as also the witch-scene in the _Auto das Fadas)_ a 16th century
_Faust_, but really no parallel can be drawn between the two plays. The
ethereal beauty of Vicente's lyrical _auto_, carved in delicate ivory,
is far less varied and human: it has scarcely a touch of the cynicism
and not a touch of the coarseness of Goethe's splendid work cast in
bronze. It can be compared at most with such lyrical passages as _Christ
ist erstanden_ or _Ach neige, Du Schmerzenreiche, Dein Antlitz gn["a]dig
meiner Not_, and as a whole is a mere lily of the valley by the side of
a purple hyacinth.

9 _Planta sois e caminheira_. Cf. the white-flowered 'wayfaring tree.'

16-17 This passage resembles those in the Spanish plays
_Prevaricaci['o]n de Ad['a]n_ and _La Residencia del Hombre_ quoted in
the _Revista de Filolog['i]a Espa[~n]ola_, t. IV (1917), No. 1, p. 15-17.

17 Cf. _The Dream of Gerontius_, l. 280 _et seq._: 'Then was I sent from
Heaven to set right, etc.'

18 _por['a] grosa_, attack, criticize, gloss. (= _glosar_. Cf. the
modern 'to grouse.')

35 Cf. Antonio Prestes, _Auto dos Cantarinhos_ (_Obras_, 1871 ed. p.
457): _todo Valen[c,]a em chapins_. The _chapim_ was rather a
high-heeled shoe than a slipper. The reference is to the Spanish city
Valencia del Cid. Cf. Fr. Juan de la Cerda ap. R. Altamira, _Historia de
Espa[~n]a_, III, 728: 'En una mujer ataviada se ve un mundo: mirando los
chapines se ver['a] a Valencia'; Alonso Jer['o]nimo de Salas Barbadillo
in _El Cortesano Descort['e]s_ (1621) speaks of 'un presente de chapines
valencianos'; and in _La P['i]cara Justina_ (1912 ed. vol. I, p. 70) we
have 'un chapin valenciano.'

38 _marcante_. In the _Auto da Feira_ the Devil is similarly a
_bufarinheiro_ (pedlar) and _mercante_.

43 _a for da corte_. _For_ = _foro_ (v. Gon[c,]alvez Viana, _A
postilas_, vol. I, p. 353).

58 Cf. Plato, _Respublica_, 365: [Greek: adik[^e]teon kai thuteon apo
t[^o]n adik[^e]mat[^o]n, k.t.l.] Vicente in his plays often inculcates
the need of something more than a formal religion.

_xiquer_. Cf. _Auto da Barca do Inferno_: _Isto hi xiquer ir['a]_.

59-60 These two verses are in the true spirit of Goethe's
Mephistopheles.

62 _esta pe[c,]onha_. Would Vicente have written thus (cf. 66 and
_Obras_, III, 344, sermon addressed to Queen Lianor; and also Garcia de
Resende, _Miscellanea_, 1917 ed. p. 50) of the soul had there been the
slightest gossip or suspicion that his patroness, Queen Lianor, had
poisoned her husband? (See the most interesting studies in _Critica e
Historia_, por Anselmo Braamcamp Freire, vol. I. Lisbon, 1910.)

71 Cf. _The Dream of Gerontius_, l. 210-1:

        Nor do I know my attitude,
        Nor if I stand or lie or sit or kneel.

73 _day passada_ = _perdoai_, _dai licen[c,]a_. Cf. Jorge Ferreira de
Vasconcellos, _Eufrosina_, II, 5. 1616 ed. f. 79 v.

77 In Basque _pastorales_ one of the main attributes of the devils and
the wicked is that they are never quiet on the stage. In the _Auto da
Cananea_ (1534), a play in many ways resembling the _Auto da Alma_, the
line _Como andas desosegado_ recurs, addressed by Belzebu to Satanas. It
is the 'incessant pacing to and fro' of _The Dream of Gerontius_ (l.
446). In its beauty and intensity as a whole and in many details
Cardinal Newman's _The Dream of Gerontius_ is strikingly similar to the
_Auto da Alma_. But in it the strife is o'er, the battle won, and the
sanctified soul, rising refreshed from sleep with a feeling of 'an
inexpressive lightness and sense of freedom,' passes serenely,
accompanied by its guardian angel, above the 'sullen howl' of the demons
in the middle region. Cf. _Calte por amor de Deus, leixai-me, n[~a]o me
persigais_ with 'But hark! upon my sense Comes a fierce hubbub which
would make me fear _Could I be frighted_' (l. 395-7).

80 Cf. Amador Arraez, _Dialogos_, No. 1, 1604 ed. f. lv.: _S. Jeronimo
diz que ['e] grande o reino, potencia e al[c,]ada das
lagrimas...atormentam mais aos Demonios que a pena infernal_.

84 The author of the _Vexilla regis_ hymn was Venantius Fortunatus
(530-600).

95 Cf. Antonio Feo, _Trattados Quadragesimais_ (1609), II f. 23: _assy
na Cruz como no monte Oliueto chorou porque vio vir a quem ouuera de
chorar_.

97 Cf. Gomez Manrique, _Fechas para la Semana Santa_ (ap. M. Pelayo,
_Antolog['i]a_, t. III, p. 92).

108 Cf. Juan del Enzina, _Teatro_ (1893), p. 39: _Veis aqui donde vereis
Su figura figurada Del original sacada_.

116 _dais o seu a cujo he_, cf. _Triunfo do Inverno_: _Porque se devem
de dar As cousas a cujas s[~a]o_; _C. Res._ I (1910), p. 64: _dar o seu
a cujo hee_.

121 Cf. Gomez Manrique, _Fechas_ (_Antolog._ t. III, p. 93):

        Y vamos, vamos al huerto
        Do veredes sepultado
        Vuestro fijo muy prouado
        De muy cruda muerte muerto.


EXHORTA[C,]AO DA GUERRA

PAGE 23

The expedition to capture from the Moors the important town of Azamor in
N. W. Africa consisted of over 400 ships (Luis Anriquez in his poem in
the _Cancioneiro Geral_ says 450) and a force of 18,000 soldiers, of
which 3000 were provided by James, Duke of Braganza, who commanded the
expedition. It set sail from Lisbon on the 17th of August, 1513.
(Dami[~a]o de Goes and Osorio say the 17th, Luis Anriquez the 15th,
which was evidently the day (the Feast of the Assumption) fixed for
departure.) It was entirely successful and the news of the fall of
Azamor caused great rejoicings both at Lisbon and Rome. The play was
evidently touched up afterwards, for it includes the sending of the
elephant to Rome (1514) and the marriages of the princesses. It is
barely possible that it was written after the victory, in which case the
words _na partida_ would be retrospective and the date given in the 1st
edition was not a slip. Parts of the play suit 1514 better than 1513.
Trist[~a]o da Cunha's special mission (cf. lines 195-6) to the Pope
(with Garcia de Resende for secretary) left early in 1514 and entered
Rome on March 12. One of the objects of the mission was to obtain a
grant of the tithes (ll. 194, 224) for the Crown to use for the war in
Africa. (The request was granted but King Manuel subsequently renounced
them in return for 150,000 gold coins.) The exhortations of l. 351 _et
seq._, l. 514 _et seq._, l. 559 _et seq._ are better suited to a time
when more men and money were needed actively to continue the war than
when an army of 18,000 was equipped and ready to leave. The Pope in 1514
promised indulgences to all those who should contribute money for the
African war and also granted King Manuel a portion of church property in
Portugal (cf. ll. 475-84 and 535-48) for the same object (l. 546: _pera
Africa conquistar_). The King's aim is now to build a cathedral in Fez
(l. 573-4). There is no mention of Azamor. This was the first of the
great patriotic outbursts (cf. the _Auto da Fama_ and other plays) in
which Vicente appears not as a satirist or religious reformer but as an
enthusiastic imperialist, and which still delight and stir his
countrymen.

18 Prince Luis (1506-55), one of the most gallant, talented and
interesting of Portuguese _infantes_, was no doubt present at the
_ser[~a]o_ and would be delighted by this reference. (The youngest
princes, Afonso, born in 1509, and Henrique, born in 1512, are not
mentioned. They both became Cardinals and the latter King of Portugal,
1578-80.) The princes are similarly addressed in the _Cortes de Jupiter_
in 1521.

46 Mercury opens the _Auto da Feira_ with a similar string of
absurdities (suggested by Enzina's _perogrulladas_), e.g. _Que se o ceo
fora quadrado N[~a]o fora redondo, Senhor; E se o sol fora azulado
D'azul fora seu cor_. (If square the sky were found then it would not be
round, and if the sun were blue then blue would be its hue.) _Os
disparates de 'Joan de Lenzina'_ (Ferreira, _Ulys._ IV, 7) were
well-known in Portugal.

94, 113, 129 No meaning is to be squeezed out of these cabbalistic
words.

116 We have an even more detailed description in the _Sumario da
Historia de Deos_:

        A furna das trevas, ponte de navalhas,
        o lago dos prantos, a horta dos dragos,
        os tanques da ira, os lagos da neve,
        os raios ardentes, sala dos tormentos,
        varanda das dores, cozinha dos gritos,
        A[c,]ougue das pragas, a torre dos pingos,
        o valle das forcas.

125 Vicente was more tolerant than most contemporary writers who
inveighed against the blindness and malice of the Jews.

132 The necromancer evokes spirits which he is unable to control. He
calls them brothers but they answer in effect: 'Du gleich'st dem Geist
den du begreif'st, nicht mir.'

151 The _almude_ = 12 gallons.

156 Cabrela e Landeira is a village near Montem[^o]r-o-Novo. Cf. _Sum.
da Hist. de Deos_:

        _Satanas_: Sabes Rio-frio e toda aquela terra,
                   aldea Gallega, a Landeira e Ranginha
                   e de Lavra a Coruche? Tudo ['e] terra minha.

157 Cartaxo, a small town in the district of Santarem.

158 The village of Lumiar is now connected with Lisbon by a tramway.

159 Mealhada, a parish in the district of Aveiro.

162 Cf. _uva terrantes_ (indigenous).

164 Ribatejo = the country along the river Tejo (Tagus). Cf. _Auto da
Feira_: _Vai-te ao sino do Cranguejo, Signum Cancer, Ribatejo._

168 Arruda dos Vinhos and Caparica are villages in a vine-growing
district on the left bank of the Tagus opposite Lisbon, near Almada.

173 _estrema_ = _marco_ (Sp. _mojon_). Cf. _Auto da Festa_, ed. Conde de
Sabugosa (1906), p. 110: _Este he da pedra do estremo_.

174 _diadema_ is usually masculine, but Antonio Vieira has it both ways.

176 Seixal (2500-3000 inh.) in the district of Almada.

177 Almada, formerly Almad[~a]a (Arab = the mine, but as Englishmen
settled there in the 12th century it was later given the fanciful
derivation All made or All made it), a town of 10,000 inh., opposite
Lisbon on the left bank of the Tagus.

179 Tojal (= whin-moor, gorse-common), a small village near Olivaes
(= olive groves), in the Lisbon district.

195 The impression produced by the arrival in Rome of King Manuel's
elephant, panther and other magnificent gifts was vividly described by
several writers. Cf. Dami[~a]o de Goes, _Chron. de D. Manuel_, Pt 3,
cap. 55, 56, 57 (1619 ed. f. 223 v.-227). According to Ulrich von Hutten
the elephant 'fuit mirabile animal, habens longum rostrum in magna
quantitate; et quando vidit Papam tunc geniculavit ei et dixit cum
terribili voce _bar, bar, bar_' (apud Theophilo Braga, _Gil Vicente e as
Origens do Theatro Nacional_ (1898), p. 191). Cf. also Manuel Bernardez,
_Nova Floresta_, V, 93-4. The head of this celebrated elephant forms the
background to a portrait of Trist[~a]o da Cunha (head of the embassy to
the Pope) reproduced in Senhor Joaquim de Vasconcellos' edition of
Francisco de Hollanda's _Da Pintura Antigva_ (Porto, 1918).

229 In 1517 among other exotic presents a rhinoceros was sent to the
Pope. It was however shipwrecked and drowned on the way. It had the
honour of being drawn by Albrecht D["u]rer.

238 Vicente seems to have coined this intensive of _bellisima_.

243-4 Cesar = King Manuel. Hecuba=his second wife, Queen Maria, daughter
of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain.

249 Prince Jo[~a]o, born in 1502, afterwards King Jo[~a]o III (1521-57).

259 The Infanta Isabel (1503-39) married her first cousin the Emperor
Charles V, and in her honour on that occasion Vicente composed his
_Templo de Apolo_ (1526). Her marriage may have already been planned in
1513, but more probably Vicente altered the passage when he was
preparing the 1st edition of his works during the last months of his
life. Gil Vicente more than once refers to her great beauty. Her
portrait by Titian in the Madrid Prado fully bears out his praises and
the expression on her face places this among the most fascinating
portraits of women. The Empress is sitting by a window looking on to a
beautiful country of woods and blue mountains, in her hand is a book;
but one feels that she is thinking of neither book nor scenery but that
her thoughts go back in _saudade_ to the soft air and merry days of
Lisbon. It might indeed be a picture of _Saudade_. There is a slight
flush on her pale oval face. Her almond-shaped eyes are grey-green, her
nose delicately aquiline. In the eyes and in the general expression
there is a look of undeniable sadness. Her dress of plum, cherry-pink,
gold and brown gives a gorgeously mellow effect and the curtain at the
back is plum-brown. If the colouring seems at first too rich this is due
to the criminal gold frame which clashes with the dress and the
chestnut-golden hair. In a dark frame the picture would be twice as
beautiful. The Empress' dress gleams with pearls and she has a jewel
with pearls--set perhaps by Gil Vicente--in her hair, large pearl
earrings and a necklace of large pearls. She died at Toledo at the age
of 36 and lies in the grim Pantheon of the Kings in the Escorial crypt.

266 Of Prince Fernando, born in 1507, Dami[~a]o de Goes, who knew him
personally, says: 'assi na mocidade como depois de ser homem foi de bom
parecer e bem disposto, muito inclinado a letras e dado ao estudo das
historias verdadeiras e imigo das fabulosas... Era colerico e apressado
em seus negocios e muito animoso, com mostra e desejo de se achar em
algun grande feito de guerra, mas nem o tempo nem o estudo do Regno
deram pera isso lugar' (_Chron. de D. Manuel_, II, xix). Cf. Osorio, _De
Rebvs Emmanvelis_ (1571), p. 189: 'Fuit in antiquitate pervestiganda
valde curiosus: maximarum rerum studio flagrabat multisque virtutibus
illo loco dignis praeditus erat.'

275 Princess Beatrice as a matter of fact married Charles, Duke of
Savoy, and on the occasion of her departure from Lisbon by sea with a
magnificent suite Vicente wrote the _Cortes de Jupiter_ (1521) with the
_romance_:

        Nina era la Ifanta, Dona Beatriz se dezia,
        Nieta del buen Rei Hernando, el mejor rei de Castilla,
        Hija del Rei Don Manuel y Reina Do[~n]a Maria, etc.

284 Cf. the _Auto das Fadas_ (with which this play has many points of
resemblance): _Feiticeira_ (ao principle e infantes): _['o] que joias
esmaltadas, ['o] que boninas dos ceos, ['o] que rosas perfumadas!_

331-2 Cf. _Divisa da Cidade de Coimbra_: _Vai delas a eles t[~a]o grande
avantagem... como haver['a]...do vivo a h[~u]a imagem_.

341 _Godos_, Goths, i.e. of ancient race, 'Norman blood.'

346 For _dioso_ = _idoso_ v. _C. Geral_, vol. II (1910), p. 153. Fernam
Lopez, _Chron. J. I._ Pt. 2, cap. 10, has _deoso_.

384 _pequenas quadrilhas_. When Afonso de Albuquerque began his glorious
career (1509-15) there were in India but a few hundred Portuguese
fighting men, and most of these badly armed. The whole population of
Portugal during this time of fighting and discovery in N.-West, West and
East Africa and India is by some calculated at a million and a half, by
others at between two and three millions.

416 Prov. _mais s[~a]o as vozes que as nozes_.

418 For this line cf. Pedro Ferrus: _Que por todo el mundo suena_ (ap.
Men['e]ndez y Pelayo, _Antolog['i]a_, t. I, p. 159 and Enzina, _Egloga_,
V (_ib._ t. VII, p. 57)).

420 _pois que...pessoa_, a homely version of Goethe's _Was du ererbt von
deinen V["a]tern hast Erwirb' es um es zu besitzen_.

470-4 These lines are translated from the Spanish poet Gomez Manrique
(1415?-1490?). See Men['e]ndez y Pelayo, _Antolog['i]a_, t. VII, p. ccx.

Cf. Jorge Ferreira de Vasconcellos, _Ulysippo_, V, 7: _Vos quando vos
tirarem de Ansias e passiones mias e guando Roma conquistava_.

487 _dom zote_. Cf. supra _zopete_ and Sp. _zote_, _zopo_, _zopenco_,
_zoquete_ (a dolt); low Latin _sottus_; Dutch _zot_; Fr. _sot_; Eng.
_sot_ (_bebe sem desfolegar_). _Zote_ occurs twice in the _Auto Pastoril
Portugues_: _muito gamenho_ (cf. Fr. _gamin_) _zote_ and _Auto da
F['e]_, l. 5.

534 _trepas_ is the Span. form (Port, _tripas_?).

538 _soy[c,]os_ the old, _soldados_ the new, word for 'soldiers.' Cf.
Lucas Fern['a]ndez, _Farsas_ (1867), p. 89: _Entra el soldado, o soizo,
o infante_.

559 This rousing chorus fitly ends a play from every page of which
breathes the most ardent patriotism. Small wonder that King Sebasti[~a]o
(1557-78), with his visions of conquest and glory, read Vicente with
pleasure as a boy.

561 Cf. Gaspar Correa, _Lendas da India_, IV, 561-2: _o Governador logo
sobio e o frade diante dele bradando a grandes brados, dizendo: 'O fieis
Christ[~a]os, olhai para Christo, vosso capit[~a]o, que vai diante'_
(1546).


FARSA DOS ALMOCREVES

PAGE 37

This is one of the most famous of those lively farces with which Gil
Vicente for a quarter of a century delighted the Portuguese Court and
which still hold the reader by their vividness and charm. Its fame rests
on the portraiture of the poverty-stricken but magnificent nobleman who
has been a favourite object of satire with writers in the Peninsula
since the time of Martial, and who in a poem of the _Cancioneiro Geral_
is described in almost the identical words of Vicente's prefatory note:

              o gram estado
        e a renda casi nada
        (_Arrenegos que que fez Gregoryo Affonsso_).

An alternative title of the play is _Auto do Fidalgo Pobre_, but the
extremely natural presentment of the two carriers in the second part
justifies the more popular name. The Court, fleeing from plague at
Lisbon, was in the celebrated little university town of Coimbra on the
Mondego and here Gil Vicente in the following year staged his _Divisa da
Cidade de Coimbra_, the _Farsa dos Almocreves_, and (in October) the
_Tragicomedia da Serra da Estrella_ and S['a] de Miranda, in open
rivalry, produced his _Fabula do Mondego_. But Gil Vicente was not to be
silenced by the introduction of the new poetry from Italy and to these
two years, 1526 and 1527, belong no less than seven (or perhaps eight)
of his plays. Yet what a difference in his own position and in the state
of the nation since his first farce--_Quem tem farelos?_ twenty years
before! The magnificent King Manuel was dead, and his son, the more
care-ridden Jo[~a]o III, was on the throne:

                      t[~a]o ocupado
        co'este Turco, co'este Papa
        co'esta Fran[c,]a.

There was plague and famine in the land. The discovery of a direct route
to the East and its apparently inexhaustible wealth had not brought
prosperity to the Portuguese provinces. There the chief effect had been
to make men discontented with their lot and to lure away even the
humblest workers to seek their fortune and often to find death or a far
less independent poverty:

                      at['e] os pastores
        h[~a]o de ser d'el-Rei samica.

The result was that the old rustic jollity which Vicente had known so
well in his youth was dying out, and the very songs of the peasants took
a plaintive air:

        E no mais triste ratinho
        s'enxergava h[~u]a alegria
        que agora n[~a]o tem caminho.
        Se olhardes as cantigas
        do prazer acostumado
        todas tem som lamentado,
        carregado de fadigas,
        longe do tempo passado.
        O d' ent[~a]o era cantar
        e bailar como ha de ser,
        o cantar pera folgar,
        o bailar pera prazer,
        que agora ['e] mao d'achar[155].

Nor could it be expected that the rich _parvenu_, the mushroom courtier,
the _fidalgo 'que n[~a]o sabe se o ['e],'_ the palace page fresh from
keeping goats in the _serra_, the Court chaplain anxious to hide his
humble origin, would greatly relish Vicente's plays which satirized them
and in which rustic scenes and songs and memories appeared at every
turn. It was much like mentioning the rope in the house of the hanged,
and these dainty and sophisticated persons would turn with relief to the
revival of the more decorous ancient drama inaugurated by Trissino in
Italy and in Portugal by S['a] de Miranda.

3 _este Arnado_. Cf. Bernardo de Brito, _Chronica de Cister_, III, 18:
'se foi [Afonso Henriquez] ao longo do Mondego por um campo [~q]
ent[~a]o e no tempo de agora se chama o Arnado, trocado ja pelas
enchentes do rio de campo cuberto de flores em um areal esteril e sem
nenh[~u]a verdura.' Cf. _Cancioneiro da Vaticana_, No. 1014: 'en Coimbra
caeu ben provado, caeu en Runa ata en o Arnado.'

7 See the Spanish _romance_ (ap. Men['e]ndez y Pelayo. _Antolog['i]a_,
t. VIII, p. 124): 'Yo me estaba all['a] en Coimbra que yo me la hube
ganado.'

8, 9 The sense of these two obscure lines is apparently: 'Since Coimbra
so chastises us that we are left without a penny.' Ruy Moniz in the
_Canc. Geral_, vol. II (1910), p. 142, has _[c,]imbrar ou casar_. In
Spanish _cimbrar_ = 'to brandish a rod,' 'to bend.' In the _Auto del
Repelon_, printed in 1509, Enzina has: _El palo bien assimado Cimbrado
naquella tiesta_ (_Teatro_ (1893), p. 236) and Fern['a]ndez (p. 25) _No
vos cimbre yo el cayado_. Cf. Antonio Prestes, _Autos_ (ed. 1871), p.
211: _E o vil[~a]o vindo me zimbra: reprender-me!_ and Jo[~a]o Gomes de
Abreu (_C. Ger._ vol. IV (1915), p. 304) _seraa rrijo [c,]imbrado_.
_preto_ = _real preto_, contrasted with the white (i.e. silver) _real_.

12 _Pelos campos de Mondego cavaleiros vi somar_ were two very
well-known lines apparently belonging to a real historical Portuguese
_romance_ on the death of Ines de Castro. They occur in Garcia de
Resende's poem on her death. See C. Micha["e]lis de Vasconcellos, _Estudos
sobre o romanceiro peninsular_.

13 Cf. _Tragicomedia da Serra da Estrella_ (1527): _Pedem-lhe em Coimbra
cevada E elle d['a]-lhe mexilh[~o]es_.

19 _milham_, green maize cut young for fodder.

32 _ratinhos_, peasants from Beira. They play a large part in Portuguese
comedy.

80 _azemel_ = _almocreve_. Both words are of Arabic origin. Cf.
_almofreixe_ infra.

93 _Endoen[c,]as_ = _indulgentiae_. _Semana de Endoen[c,]as_ = Holy
Week.

103 In the _Auto da Lusitania_ Vicente says jestingly, perhaps in
imitation of the Spanish _romances_, that he was born at Pederneira (a
small sea-side town in the district of Leiria). He mentions it again in
the _Cortes de Jupiter_ and in the _Templo de Apolo_.

109 Cf. Alvaro Barreto in _Cancioneiro Geral_, vol. I (1910), p. 322:
_po[~e] me tudo em hu[~u] item_.

120 It was the plea of Arias Gonzalo that the inhabitants of Zamora were
not answerable for the guilt of Vellido Dolfos who had treacherously
killed King Sancho:

        [?]Qu['e] culpa tienen los viejos? [?]qu['e] culpa tienen los
                ni[~n]os?
        [?]qu['e] culpa tienen los muertos...?

129 _balcarriadas_. Cf. _Auto das Fadas_: _Venhas muitieram['a] com tuas
balcarriadas;_ _Auto da Festa_: _t[~a]o gr[~a]o balcarriada_; _Auto da
Barca do Purgatorio_: _Nunca tal balcarriada Nem mar['e] t[~a]o
desastrada_. Couto, _Asia_, VII, 5, vii: _Tal balcarriada_ (act of folly)
_foi esta_. The _Canc. Geral_, vol. IV (1915), p. 370, has the form
_barquarryadas_.

134 Cf. _Auto da Lusitania_: _um aito bem acordado Que tenha ave e
pi['o]s_ (= well-proportioned).

135 The numerous servants of the starving _fidalgos_ are satirized by
Nicolaus Clenardus and others. Like the English as described by a German
in the 18th century they were 'lovers of show, liking to be followed
wherever they go by whole troops of servants' (_A Journey into England_,
by Paul Hentzer. Trans. Horace Walpole, 1757). Clenardus in his
celebrated letter from Evora (1535) says that a Portuguese is followed
by more servants in the streets than he spends sixpences in his house.
He mentions specifically the number eight.

141 Alcoba[c,]a is the town famous for its beautiful Cistercian convent.

161 _Alifante._ Cf. infra, _avangelho_. _A_ for _e_ is still common in
Galicia: e.g. _mamoria_ (memory). Cf. Span. Basque _barri_ (new), for
Fr. Basque _berri_.

165 The Dean was Diogo Ortiz de Vilhegas ([+] 1544) successively Bishop
of S[~a]o Tom['e] (1534) and Ceuta (1540). See A. Braamcamp Freire in
_Revista de Historia_, No. 25 (1918), p. 3.

224 _basti[~a]es_ = _besti[~a]es_, figures in relief. Gomez Manrique has
_bestiones_ in this sense.

247 In Antonio Prestes' play _Auto do Mouro Encantado_ the golden apples
prove to be pieces of coal. So Mello in his _Apologos Dialogaes_ speaks
of the treasure of _moiras encantadas_ which all turns to coal.

269 _In Rey_, the popular form of _El-Rei_ (the king) is frequent also
in the plays of Sim[~a]o Machado, who died about a century after
Vicente.

272 It is tempting to add the word _madra[c,]o_ (fool, ignoramus) for
the sake of the rhyme. If _O recado que elle d['a]_ were spoken very
fast the line would bear the addition.

293 Here, as often, the deeper purpose of Vicente's satire appears
beneath his fun. The growing depopulation of the provinces was becoming
painfully evident to those who cared for Portugal.

302 Jorge Ferreira, _Ulysippo_, III, 5: _n[~a]o haveria corpo, por mais
que fosse de a[c,]o milanes, que podesse sofrer quanta costura lhe seria
necessaria_; _ib._ III, 7: _temos muita costura esta noite; muita
costura e tarefa_; Antonio Vieira, _Cartas_: _tambem aqui teremos
costura_ (1 de agosto de 1673).

310 _trapa_ in Port. = 'a gin,' 'a trap,' but in Sp., as perhaps here, =
'noise,' 'uproar.'

327 Cf. _Farsa dos Fisicos_: _Praticamos ali O Leste e o Oeste e o
Brasil_ and III, 377; Chiado, _Auto da Natural Inven[c,]am_, ed. Conde
de Sabugosa (1917), p. 74.

348 The carrier comes along singing snatches of a _pastorela_ of which
we have other examples, of more intricate rhythm, in the _Cancioneiro da
Vaticana_ and the poems of the Archpriest of Hita and the Marqu['e]s de
Santillana. A modern Galician _cantiga_ says that

        O cantar d'os arrieiros
        E um cantari[~n]o guapo:
        Ten unha volta n'o medio
        Para dicir 'Arr['e] macho.'

(P['e]rez Ballesteros, _Cancionero Popular Gallego_, vol II, p. 215.)

355 Cf. _O Clerigo da Beira_: _Nuno Ribeiro Que nunca paga dinheiro E
sempre arreganha os dentes_; and _Ah Deos! quem te furtasse Bolsa, Nuna
Ribeiro. Homem vai buscar dinheiro, A todo ele disse: Ja dinheiro feito
['e]_.

360 _uxtix_, _uxte_. Ferreira de Vasconcellos, _Eufrosina_, II, 4:
_Tanto me deu por uxte como por arre_.

_atafal_. Cf. _Barca do Purgatorio_ (I, 258): _amanhade-lhe o atafal_
(not _amanh[~a] d['e]-lhe_).

363 Candosa, a village of some 1400 inh. in the district of Coimbra.

369 _xulo_ = _chulo_, _p['i]caro_. The derivation of _chulo_ is
uncertain (v. Gon[c,]alvez Viana, _Apostilas_, vol. I (1906), p. 299).
While Dozy derives it from Arabic _xul_, A. A. Koster suggests the same
origin as that of Fr. _joli_, It. _giulivo_, Catalan _joliu_ [= gay. Cf.
Eng. _jolly_ and the Portuguese word used by D. Jo[~a]o de Castro:
_joliz_], viz. the Old German word _jol_ (gaiety). Vid. _Quelques mots
espagnols et portugais d'origine orientale_ (_Zeitschrift f["u]r rom.
Philologie_, Bd. 38 (1914), S. 481-2). The Valencian form for July
(_Choliol_) may strengthen this view.

372 Tareja is the old Portuguese form of Theresa.

375 _bareja_ = _mosca varejeira_.

379 Aveiro. A town of about 7500 inh., 40 miles S. of Oporto. It was
nearly taken by the Royalists in 1919.

398 For the naturalness of this conversation cf. that of the peasants
Amancio Vaz and Deniz Louren[c,]o in the _Auto da Feira_.

410 Pero Vaz' point is that the mules will not stop to feed in the cool
shade of the trees but do so in the shelterless _charneca_.

429 Cf. the act of D. Jo[~a]o de Castro (1500-48) as before him of
Afonso de Albuquerque in pawning hairs of his beard, and the proverb
_Queixadas sem barbas n[~a]o merecem ser honradas_.

435 _O juiz de [c,]amora_. In the _romance Ya se sale Diego Ordo[~n]ez_
Arias Gonzalo of Zamora says: 'A Dios pongo por juez porque es justo su
juicio.' So that the judge of Zamora = God.

438-9 No one was better situated than Gil Vicente to criticize--and
suffer the slights of--the brand-new nobility of the Portuguese Court.
The nearer they were to the plough the more disdainful were they likely
to be to a mere goldsmith and poet.

454 _desingulas_ (= _dissimulas_). Cf. _Auto Pastoril Portugues_: _n[~a]o
o dessengules mais_. Duarte Nunes de Le[~a]o, _Origem da Lingva
Portvgvesa_ (1606), cap. 18, includes _dissingular_ (= dissimular) among
the _vocabulos que vs[~a]o os plebeios ou idiotas que os homens polidos
n[~a]o deuem vsar_.

467 For the form Diz cf. _Auto das Fadas_: Estev[~a]o Dis, and _O Juiz
da Beira_: Anna Dias, Diez, Diz (= Diaz).

473 Pero Vaz evidently did not know the _cantiga:_

        A molher do almocreve
        Passa vida regalada
        Sem se importar se o marido
        Fica morto na estrada.

Cf. the Galician quatrain (P['e]rez Ballesteros, _Cane. Pop. Gall._ II,
219):

        A vida d'o carreteiro
        ['E] unha vida penada,
        Non vai o domingo ['a] misa
        Nin dorme n'a sua cama.

478 Vicente refers to the Medina fair in the _Auto da Feira_ and again
in _O Juiz da Beira_: _morador en Carrion Y mercader en Medina_.

498 _Folgosas_. There are two small villages in Portugal called Folgosa,
but reference here is no doubt to an inn or small group of houses.

506 Vicente several times refers to _Val de Cobelo_, e.g. _Comedia de
Rubena_: _E achasse os meus porquinhos Cajuso em Val de Cobelo_, and the
shepherd in the _Auto da Barca do Purgatorio_: _estando em Val de
Cobelo_.

529-30 Cf. S['a] de Miranda, 1885 ed., No. 108, l. 261: _Inda hoje vemos
que em Fran[c,]a Vivem nisto mais ['a] antiga_, etc. Couto (_Dec._ V,
vi, 4) speaking of the mingling of classes, says: 'no nosso Portugal
anda isto mui corrupto.'

537 Cf. _Comedia de Rubena_: _E broslados (= bordados) uns letreiros Que
dizem Amores Amores._

559 The ancient town of Viseu or Vizeu (9000 inh.) in Beira has now sunk
from its former importance.

560 _pertem_ for _pertence_.

565 _arauia_ = _algaravia_. So _ingresia_, _germania_, etc. (cf. the
French word _charabia_).

586 Cf. _O Juiz da Beira_: _pois tem a morte na m[~a]o_ (= not 'there is
death in that hand' as was said of Keats, but 'he is at death's door').

591 The original reading _da sert[~a]y_ (rhyming with _m[~a]y_ in l.
588) is confirmed by the _Auto da Lusitania_: _rendeiro na Sert[~a]e_.
The town of Cert[~a] in the district of Castello Branco now has some
5000 inh.

603 Cf. Jorge Ferreira, _Aulegrafia_, I, 4: _['O] senhor, gr[~a]o saber
vir_.

657 _tam mancias_, i.e. _Macias, o Namorado_, the prince of lovers. For
the form _Mancias_ cf. _palanciana_ used for _palaciana_.

671 _los tus cabellos ni[~n]a_. Cf. Ferreira de Vasconcellos, _Aulegrafia_,
f. 113: _Sob los teus cabelos, ninha, dormiria_.

675 Cf. Jorge Ferreira, _Eufrosina_. _Prologo_: _Eu por mim digo com a
cantiga se o dizem dig[~a]o_, etc.; _Cortes de Jupiter_: _Cantar['a]
c'os atabaques: Se disser[~a]o dig[~a]o, alma minha_ and Barbieri,
_Cancionero Musical_, No. 127: _Si lo dicen digan, Alma mia_, etc. E
wrongly gives the words _alma minha_ to the next quotation.

676 Cf. _Auto da India_: _Quem vos anojou, meu bem, Bem anojado me tem_.

707 Cf. _Auto das Fadas_: _Son los suspiros que damos In hac vita
lachrymarum_.

713 Cam[~o]es, _Filodemo_, IV, 4, has _tudo terei numa palha_, 'I will
not care a straw' (cf. Vicente in the _Auto da Festa_: _Que os homens
verdadeiros n[~a]o s[~a]o tidos numa palha_), but here the meaning is
different.


TRAGICOMEDIA PASTORIL DA SERRA DA ESTRELLA

PAGE 55

It is remarkable that just at the time when S['a] de Miranda had
returned to Portugal with the new metres from Italy and was frankly
contemptuous of Gil Vicente's rough mirth and rustic verse, Gil Vicente
felt his position strong enough to present this lengthy play before the
King and Court at Coimbra on occasion of the birth of the King's
daughter Maria. There is no action in the play, and King Manuel would
perhaps have yawned at these shepherds' quarrels, relieved not at all by
the _parvo's_ wit or the hermit's grossness and only occasionally by a
touch of lyric poetry; but perhaps these simple scenes were welcome to
the growing artificiality of the Court. For us the beautiful _cossante
Um amigo que eu havia_ stands out like a single orange gleaming from a
dark-foliaged tree. The interest lies in the customs of the shepherds
and their snatches of song and in the intimate knowledge of the Serra da
Estrella shown by the author.

10 The Serra da Estrella, the highest mountain-range in Portugal (6500
ft), is in the province of Beira.

17 _meyrinhas_ = _maiorinho_ (merino).

30 _esperauel_ (as here and in _Comedia de Rubena_), or _esparavel_. Cf.
Dami[~a]o de Goes, _Chron. de D. Manuel_ (1617), f. 25 v.: a _modo de
sobreceo d'esparavel_.

32 Cf. the _vil[~a]o's_ complaints of God in the _Romagem de
Aggravados_.

35 _nega_ = _sen[~a]o_.

51 As in Browning's _A Grammarian's Funeral_ they are advancing as they
converse: 'thither our path lies.'

103 _Nega se meu embeleco_ = _se n[~a]o me engano_. This line occurs in
the _Templo de Apolo_. The _Auto da Festa_ text has _nego se meu
embaleco_.

113 _mancebelh[~o]es_. Cf. Correa, _Lendas_, IV, 426: _Folgara de ser
mais mancebelh[~a]o_.

127 The corresponding _a_-lines might be:

        Dous a[c,]ores que eu amava
        Aqui andam nesta casa.

172 _argem_ for _prata_. Similarly in Spanish there is the old form
_argen_ for _argento_ (= _plata_). Cf. the proverb _Quien tiene argen
tiene todo bien_.

190 _somana_ for _semana_. So _romendo_ for _remendo_ and v. infra:
_perem_ for _porem_.

225 _gingrar_. Nuno Pereira in the _Cancioneiro Geral_ (1910 ed., vol.
I, p. 305) has _o gingrar de meu caseiro_. Cf. Enzina, _Auto del
Repelon_: _Hora d['e]jalos gingrar_ (_Teatro_, 1893, p. 241).

241 _sois_. Cf. _Barca do Purgatorio_: _sem sois motrete de p[~a]o_;
_Farsa dos Fisicos_: _n[~a]o vos quer sois olhar_.

290-1 = _odi et amo_.

322 As a rule Vicente's shepherds are natural enough but we may be
permitted to doubt whether any shepherdess of the Serra da Estrella
would have spoken of 'ending like Queen Dido.' She had probably been
reading Lucas Fern['a]ndez, _Farsas_ (1867), p. 56.

328 A, B, C, D and E unaccountably print _quer[^e]-lo_ (through the bad
attraction of _malo_) although _querer_ is needed to rhyme with _quer_.

367 _pintisirgo_ = _pintasilgo_.

410 _grauisca_. Vicente appears to have coined the word from _grave_ and
_arisca_.

427 Fronteira, a village of nearly 3000 inh. in the district of
Portalegre. Monsarraz is of about the same size, in the district of
Evora.

435 _tinhosa cada mea hora_. Cf. Jorge Ferreira de Vasconcellos,
_Aulegrafia_, f. 89: _he h[~u]a tinhosa que ontem guardava patas em
Barquerena_.

440 _cartaxo_. Cf. _Aulegrafia_, f. 10: _figo bafureiro em unhas de
cartaixo_.

443 A pleasant sketch of the presumptuous peasant, then become a common
type in Portugal. Felipa considers that to marry a shepherd would be
beneath her and her heart leaps up when she beholds a courtier in velvet
slippers.

462 The hermit was of course a part of the stock-in-trade of mediaeval
plays. He appears in Vicente as early as 1503 (_Auto dos Reis Magos_).
The most interesting alteration in the heavily censored (1586) edition
of the _Serra da Estrella_ is not the excision of over a hundred lines
about the evil-minded hermit but the substitution in l. 100 of _un rey_
for _Dios_. Regalist Vicente would never have allowed himself to say
that 'a king sometimes acts awry.'

530 For _amigo_ we should probably read _marido_ to rhyme with
_atrevido_.

564 _moxama_ = salted tuna (Sp. _mojama_ or _almojama_).

566 Cf. J. Ferreira de Vasconcellos, _Aulegrafia_ (1619), f. 84: _sejais
bem casada com a filha do juiz_.

608 Sea, Cea or Ceia, a pleasant little town of some 3000 inh. in the
heart of the Serra. (Sea, Sintra, etc. is the 16th cent, spelling, now
restored.)

616 Gouvea or Gouveia in the same district and about the same size as
Sea. The three other Gouveas in Portugal are smaller villages.

621 Manteigas, a small picturesque town immediately below the highest
part of the Serra and nearly 2500 ft above sea-level.

623 Covilham, a larger town (15000 inh.), still known for its cloth
factories.

652 Sardoal has about 5000 inh. For its ancient reputation for dancing
cf. _O Juiz da Beira_:

        Eu bailei em Santarem,
        Sendo os Iffantes pequenos,
        E bailei no Sardoal.

666 This _cossante_ needs for its completion a fourth verse. This was so
obvious that it was omitted in the writing of the play.

684 _Esse he outro carrascal_, a rural form of the phrase _une autre
paire de manches_. The contrast is between the rustic _cossante_ and the
more 'cultivated' or Court _cantigas_ that follow (_Ja n[~a]o quer_ and
_N[~a]o me firais_).

711 The _chacota, chacotasinha_ was a peasant's dance accompanied by a
simple song the structure of which answered to the movements of the
dance. Here, however, it is danced to the sound of the organ and the
words of a Court song in which, nevertheless, the repetition of the
rustic _dance-cossantes_ is preserved.

724 Cf. _Farsa de Ines Pereira_: _Eu vos trago um bom marido...diz que
em camisa vos quer_ (= 'sans dot').


FOOTNOTES:

[155] _Triunfo do Inverno_ (1529), l. 13-25.




LIST OF PROVERBS IN GIL VICENTE'S WORKS


     A amiga e o amigo mais aquenta que bom lenho               III, 127
     A candea morta gaita ['a] porta                             II, 215
     Ado corre [el r['i]o] m['a]s manso all['i] est['a]
         m['a]s peligroso                                        II, 169
     Amor louco, eu por ti e tu por outro                         I, 139
     Ante a Pascoa vem os Ramos                                 III, 124
     A ruim comprador llevar-lhe ruim borcado                     I, 160
     Asegundo sam os tempos assi h[~a]o de ser os tentos          I, 103
     Asegun fuere el se[~n]or ansi abrir['a] camino a ser
         servido                                                  II, 86
     Asno muerto cevada                                           I, 279
  10 Asno que me leve quero e nam cavalo fol[~a]o               III, 154
     Ausencia aparta amor                                        II, 276
     Bem passa de guloso o que come o que n[~a]o tem            III, 370
     Cada louco com sua teima                                   III, 135
     Caza mata el porfiar                                       III, 302
     Come e folga ter['a]s boa vida                               I, 343
     D['a]-me tu a mi dinheiro e d['a] ao demo o conselho         I, 167
     Del mal lo menos                                             I, 231
     Donde vindes? D'Almolina. Que trazedes? Farinha. Tornae
         l['a], que nam ['e] minha                              III, 107
     Dormirei, dormirei, boas novas acharei                       II, 26
  20 El amor verdadero, el m['a]s firme es el primero            II, 275
     El diabo no es tan feo como Apeles lo pintaba               II, 267
     El que pergunta no yerra                                      I, 69
     ['E] melhor que vamos sos que nam mal acompanhadas          II, 525
     Em tempo de figos nam ha hi nenhuns amigos                 III, 370
     Fala com Deus, ser['a]s bom rendeiro                         I, 344
     Filho nam comas nam rebentar['a]s                            I, 343
     Fran[c,]a e Roma nam se fez num dia                          I, 335
     Frol de pessegueiro, fermosa e nam presta nada               II, 40
     Gr[~a]o a gr[~a]o gallo farta                              III, 249
  30 Maior ['e] o ano que o mes                                 III, 124
     Mais quero asno que me leve que cavalo que me derrube      III, 121
     Mata o cavalo de sela e bo ['e] o asno que me leva         III, 130
     Nam achegues ['a] forca nam te enforcar[~a]o                 I, 343
     Nam comas quente nam perder['a]s o dente                     I, 343
     Nam peques na lei nam temer['a]s rei                         I, 344
     Nam sejas pobre morrer['a]s honrado                          I, 344
     Nam se tomam trutas a bragas enxutas                       III, 177
     No se cogen las flores sino espina sofriendo               III, 322
     Nos ninhos d'ora a um ano nam ha passaro ogano             III, 370
  40 O dar quebra os penedos                                      I, 237
     Onde for[c,]a ha perdemos direito                            I, 310
     O que ha de ser ha de ser                     II, 16; III, 144, 295
     O que nam haveis de comer leixae-o a outrem mexer          III, 137
     Pared cayada papel de locos                                III, 336
     Perdida ['e] a decoada na cabe[c,]a d'asno pegada          III, 166
     Pobreza e alegria nunca dormem n'h[~u]a cama                II, 518
     Por bem querer mal haver                                     I, 135
     Porfia mata caza                                            II, 301
     Poupa em queimada bem pintada e mal lograda                  II, 40
  50 Pus['o]se el perro em bragas de acero                      III, 334
     Quando perderes p[~o]e-te de lodo                            I, 344
     Quando te dam o porquinho vae logo c'o baracinho            II, 466
     Quem bem renega bem cre                                      I, 271
     Quem bem tem e mal escolhe por mal que lhe vem nam se
         enoje                                                  III, 150
     Quem casa por amores nam vos ['e] nega dolores               I, 128
     Quem chora ou canta m['a]s fadas espanta                     I, 343
     Quem com mal anda chore e nam cante                          I, 343
     Quem com mal anda nam cuide ninguem que lhe venha bem        I, 343
     Quem espera padece                                         III, 382
  60 Quem muito pede muito fede                                 III, 372
     Quem nam faz mal nam merece pena                             I, 343
     Quem nam mente nam vem de boa gente                          I, 343
     Quem nam parece esquece                                    III, 382
     Quem nam pede nam tem                                      III, 382
     Quem porcos acha menos em cada mouta lhe roncam
                                                  (cf. III, 26) III, 279
     Quem quer fogo busque a lenha                              III, 371
     Quem quiser comer comigo traga em que se assentar          III, 371
     Quem sempre faz mal poucas vezes faz bem                     I, 344
     Quem so se aconselha so se depena                            I, 343
  70 Quereis conhecer o ruim dae-lhe o oficio a servir           II, 390
     Quien al cordojo se di['o] m['a]s cordojo se lhe pega         I, 12
     Quien canta no tiene tormento                               II, 453
     Quien no anda no gana                                       II, 117
     Quien no se aventura no espere por ventura                  II, 116
     Quien paga los trabajos d['e] el afan                        II, 85
     Se nada ganhares nam sejas siseiro                           I, 344
     Se sempre calares nunca mentir['a]s                          I, 343
     Se tu te guardares eu te guardarei                           I, 344
     Sob mao pano est['a] o bom bebedor                           I, 162
  80 Sol de Janeiro sempre anda traz do outeiro                   II, 40
     Todo o mal ['e] de quem o tem                                I, 337
     Todos los caminos a la puente van a dar                    III, 198
     Una cosa piensa el bayo y otra quien lo ensilla            III, 369
     Viguela sin lanza, etc.                                    III, 295
     Vil[~a]o forte, p['e] dormente                              III, 12




BIBLIOGRAPHY OF GIL VICENTE[156]

(1) _Catalogo dos Autores_ ap. _Diccionario da Lingua Portugueza_
(1793), p. cxxviii-ix.

(2) F. BOUTERWEK. _Geschichte der portugiesischen Poesie_ (1805), p.
85-115. Eng. tr. (1823), p. 85-111.

(3) F. M. T. DE ARAG[~A]O MORATO. _Memoria sobre o theatro portuguez_
(1817), p. 46-58.

(4) J. ADAMSON. _Memoirs of ... Camoens_ (1820), vol. I, p. 295-7.

(5) J. F. DENIS. _R['e]sum['e]_ (1826), p. 152-64.

(6) J. C. L. SIMONDE DE SISMONDI. _De la litt['e]rature du midi de
l'Europe_ (1829), vol. IV, p. 449-57.

(7) J. V. BARETTO FEIO and J. GOMES MONTEIRO. _Ensaio sobre a vida e
obras de G. V._ (_Obras_, ed. 1834, vol I, p. x-xli; 1852 ed. vol. I, p.
x-l).

(8) A. HERCULANO. _Origens do theatro moderno. Theatro portugues at['e]
aos fins do seculo XVI._ (_Opusculos_, vol. IX, p. 75-84. Reprinted from
_O Panorama_, 1837.)

(9) H. HALLAM. _Introduction to the Literature of Europe_ (Paris, 1839),
vol. I, p. 205-6, 344.

(10) J. H. DA CUNHA RIVARA. _Epitaphios antigos_ in _O Panorama_, vol.
IV (1844), p. 275-6.

(11) E. QUILLINAN. _The Autos of G. V._ in _The Quarterly Review_, vol.
LXXIX (1846), p. 168-202.

(12) LUDWIG CLARUS [pseud. i.e. Wilhelm Volk]. _Darstellung der
spanischen Literatur im Mittelalter_ (1846), vol. II, p. 344-56.

(13) C. M. RAPP. _Die Far[c,]as des G. V._ in H. G. Prutz, _Historisches
Taschenbuch_, 1846.

(14) A. F. VON SCHACK. _Geschichte der dramatischen Literatur und Kunst
in Spanien_ (1845-6), vol. I, p. 160-80.

(15) J. M. DA COSTA E SILVA. _Ensaio_, vol. I (1850), p. 241-95.

(16) F. WOLF in Ersch und Grueber, _Allgemeine Enzyklop["a]die_ (1858), p.
324-54.

(17) BARRERA Y LEIRADO. _Cat['a]logo_ (1860), p. 474-6.

(18) E. A. VIDAL in _Gazeta de Portugal_. 26 July, 10 Sept. 1865.

(19) F. SOTEIRO DOS REIS. _Curso_, vol. I (1866), p. 123-52.

(20) M. PINHEIRO CHAGAS. _Novos Ensaios Criticos_ (1867), p. 84-93.

(21) TH. BRAGA. _Vida de G. V. e sua eschola._ Porto, 1870.

(22) J. DE VASCONCELLOS. _Os Musicos Portuguezes_ (1870), vol. I, p.
117-20.

(23) SALV['A]. _Cat['a]logo_, vol. I (1872), p. 554-5.

(24) TH. BRAGA. _G. V., poeta lyrico_ in Th. Braga, _Bernardim Ribeiro e
os bucolistas_ (1872), p. 233-64.

(25) TH. BRAGA. _G. V. e a Custodia de Belem_ [two unsigned articles in
_Artes e Letras_, ann. 2 (1873), p. 4-6, 18-20].

(26) TH. BRAGA. _Manual da hist. da litt. port._ (1875), p. 229-42.

(27) J. M. DE ANDRADE FERREIRA. _Curso_ (1875), p. 331-50.

(28) C. CASTELLO BRANCO. _G. V. Embargos ['a] phantasia do Snr Theophilo
Braga_ in _Historia e Sentimentalismo_, 2nd ed. (1880), vol. II, p.
ix-xi, 1-25.

(29) J. I. BRITO REBELLO. _A Custodia do Convento dos Jeronymos_ in _O
Occidente_ (1880), p. 145-203.

(30) TH. BRAGA. _G. V. Ourives e Poeta_ in _O Positivismo_, vol. II
(1880), p. 348-76; vol. III, p. 129-39; repr. in _Quest[~o]es de litt. e
arte port._ (1881), p. 190-225.

(31) _Diccionario universal Portuguez Illustrado_, vol. I (1882), p.
1884-1904, s.v. _Auto_.

(32) G. TICKNOR. _History of Spanish Literature_, 5th ed. (1882), vol.
I, p. 297-306.

(33) P. DUCARME. _Les 'Autos' de G. V._ in _Le Mus['e]on_, vol. V
(1885), p. 369-74, 649-56; vol. VI, p. 120-30, 155-62.

(34) A. LOISEAU. _Hist. de la Litt. Port._ (1886), p. 119-36.

(35) A. DA CUNHA. _Os Autos de G. V._ in _Revista Intellectual
Contemporanea_, anno 1, No. 3 (1886), p. 21-24.

(36) GALLARDO. _Ensayo_, tom. IV (1889), col. 1565-8.

(37) A. JEANROY. _Les Origines de la po['e]sie lyrique en France_
(1889), p. 330-4.

(38) J. DE SOUSA MONTEIRO. _A Dansa Macabra (Nota preliminar a tres
autos de G. V.)_ in _Revista de Portugal_, vol. I (1889), p. 233-50.

(39) VISCONDE DE OUGUELLA. _G. V._ Lisboa, 1890.

(40) A. SCHAEFFER. _Geschichte des Spanischen Nationaldramas_ (1890),
vol. I, p. 26-33.

(41) D. GARCIA PERES. _Cat['a]logo Razonado_ (1890), p. 564-8.

(42) J. LEITE DE VASCONCELLOS. _Nota sobre a linguagem de G. V._ in
_Revista Lusitana_ (1891), p. 340-2.

(43) W. STORCK. _Aus Portugal und Brasilien_ (1892). Notes, p. 258-62.

(44) C. MICHA["E]LIS DE VASCONCELLOS. _Grundriss der rom. Phil._ (1894),
Bd. 2, Abtg. 2, p. 280-7.

(45) VISCONDE SANCHES DE BAENA. _G. V._ Marinha Grande, 1894 [Review by
C. Micha["e]lis de Vasconcellos in _Litteraturblatt f["u]r germanische und
romanische Philologie_, Bd. XVII (1896), p. 87-97].

(46) VISCONDE JULIO DE CASTILHO. _Mocidade de G. V. (O Poeta)._ Lisboa,
1896.

(47) D. JO[~A]O DA CAMARA. _Natal e G. V._ in _O Occidente_, vol. XIX
(1896), p. 282-5.

(48) J. I. BRITO REBELLO. _G. V._ in _Revista de Educa[c,][~a]o e
Ensino_, anno 12 (1897), p. 241-58, 308-15, 394-406.

(49) E. PRESTAGE. _The Portuguese Drama in the Sixteenth Century: G. V._
in _The Manchester Quarterly,_ vol. XVI (July 1897).

(50) M. MEN['E]NDEZ Y PELAYO in _Antolog['i]a de poetas l['i]ricos_, tom.
VII (1898), p. clxiii-ccxxv.

(51) TH. BRAGA. _G. V. e as origens do theatro nacional._ Porto, 1898.

(52) TH. BRAGA. _Eschola de G. V._ Porto, 1898.

(53) VISCONDE J. DE CASTILHO and A. BRAAMCAMP FREIRE, _Indices do
Cancioneiro de Resende e das Obras de G. V._ Lisboa, 1900. Repr. in G.
V. _Obras_, vol. III (1914).

(54) J. DA ANNUNCIA[C,][~A]O [[+] 1847]. _G. V._ in _Revista Lusitana_,
vol. VI (1900), p. 59-63.

(55) G. A. DE VASCONCELLOS ABREU. _Contos, Apologos e Fabulas da India:
influencia indirecta no Auto de Mofina Mendez de G. V._ Lisboa, 1902.

(56) A. R. GON[C,]ALVEZ VIANA. _Lusismos no castellano de G. V._ in
_Revista do Conservatorio Real de Lisboa_ (1902). Repr. in _Palestras
Filol['o]jicas_ (1910), p. 243-67.

(57) J. I. BRITO REBELLO. _G. V._ in _O Occidente_, vol. XXV (1902), p.
122-3.

(58) DAMASCENO NUNES. _G. V. e o theatro nacional_ in _O Occidente_,
vol. XXV, p. 127-8.

(59) TH. BRAGA. _G. V. e o nacionalismo_ in _Revista de Guimar[~a]es_,
vol. XIX (1902), p. 53-5.

(60) C. MALHEIRO DIAS. _G. V. Algumas determinantes do seu genio
litterario_ in _Revista de Guimar[~a]es_, vol. XIX, p. 57-66.

(61) A. F. BARATA. _G. V. e Evora._ Evora, 1902.

(62) J. LEITE DE VASCONCELLOS. _G. V. e a linguagem popular._ Lisboa,
1902.

(63) G. DE ABREU. _G. V. A independencia do seu espiritu_ in _Revista de
Guimar[~a]es_, vol. XIX, p. 84-96.

(64) _G. V. e a funda[c,][~a]o do theatro portuguez_ [three articles in
_O Diario de Noticias_, June 7, 8, 9, 1902].

(65) A. HERMANO. _G. V._ in _Revista de Guimar[~a]es_, vol. XIX, p.
71-83.

(66) J. I. BRITO REBELLO. _Ementas Historicas. II. G. V._ Lisboa, 1902.

(67) W. E. A. AXON. _G. V. and Lafontaine._ London and Dorking, 1903.

(68) F. M. DE SOUSA VITERBO. _G. V. Dois tra[c,]os para a sua
biographia_ in _Archivo Historico Portuguez_, anno 1 (1903), p. 219-28.

(69) J. RIBEIRO. _G. V._ in _Paginas de Esthetica_ (1905), p. 77-83.

(70) CONDE DE SABUGOSA. _Auto da Festa_ (_Explica[c,][~a]o previa_, p.
7-94). Lisboa, 1906.

(71) CONDE DE SABUGOSA. _Um auto de G. V. Processo de Vasco Abul_ in
_Embrechados_ (1907), p. 65-80.

(72) A. L. STIEFEL. _Zu G. V._ in _Archiv f["u]r das Studium der neueren
Sprachen_, vol. CXIX (1907), p. 192-5.

(73) SILEX [i.e. A. Braamcamp Freire]. _G. V., Poeta-ourives_ in _O
Jornal do Commercio_, Feb. 5-9, 14, 19, 1907.

(74) J. MENDES DOS REMEDIOS in _Obras de G. V._, vol. I (1907),
_Prefacio_, p. v-lix.

(75) C. MICHA["E]LIS DE VASCONCELLOS. _Estudos sobre o romanceiro
peninsular_ (1907-9), p. 318-20.

(76) J. J. NUNES. _As cantigas parallelisticas de G. V._ in _Revista
Lusitana_, vol. XII (1909), p. 241-67.

(77) M. A. VAZ DE CARVALHO in _No meu cantinho_ (1909).

(78) J. DE SOUSA MONTEIRO. _Estudo sobre o 'Auto Pastoril Castelhano' de
G. V._ in _Boletim da Segunda Classe da Ac. das Sciencias de Lisboa_,
vol. II (1910), p. 235-41.

(79) J. LEITE DE VASCONCELLOS in _Li[c,][~o]es de Philologia Portuguesa_
(1911), p. 355-60.

(80) O. DE PRATT. _O Auto da Festa de G. V._ in _Revista Lusitana_
(1911), p. 238-46.

(81) _Sobre um verso de G. V._ in _Diario de Noticias_ (1912); Repr. in
_Revista Lusitana_ (1912), p. 268-89.

(82) A. BRAAMCAMP FREIRE. _G. V._ in _Diario de Noticias_, Dec. 16,
1912.

(83) J. I. BRITO REBELLO. _G. V._ Lisboa, 1912.

(84) C. MICHA["E]LIS DE VASCONCELLOS. _Notas Vicentinas I_ in _Revista da
Universidade de Coimbra_, vol. I (1912), p. 205-93.

(85) J. M. DE QUEIROZ VELLOSO. _G. V. e a sua obra._ Lisboa, 1914.

(86) A. LOPES VIEIRA. _A Campanha Vicentina._ Lisboa, 1914.

(87) F. DE ALMEIDA. _A Reforma protestante e as irreverencias de G. V._
in _Lusitana_, anno 1 (1914), p. 207-13; Repr. in _Historia da Igreja em
Portugal_, vol. III, pt 2 (1917), p. 119-226.

(88) A. BRAAMCAMP FREIRE. _G. V. poeta-ourives. (Novas notas.)_ Coimbra,
1914.

(89) TH. BRAGA. _G. V. e a crea[c,][~a]o do theatro nacional_ in _Hist.
da Litt. Port. II. Renascen[c,]a_ (1914), p. 36-102.

(90) C. MICHA["E]LIS DE VASCONCELLOS. _Notas sobre a can[c,][~a]o perdida
Este es calbi orabi_ in _Revista Lusitana_ (1915), p. 1-15.

(91) J. CEJADOR Y FRAUCA. _Hist. de la lengua y lit. castellana_ (1915),
vol. I, p. 457-60.

(92) F. DE FIGUEIREDO. _Caracteristicas da litt. portuguesa_ (1915), p.
27-30. Eng. tr. (1916), p. 18-22.

(93) O. DE PRATT. _Sobre um verso de G. V._ Lisboa, 1915.

(94) A. LOPES VIEIRA. _Autos de G. V._ (1916), _Prefacio_, p. 9-30.

(95) J. I. BRITO REBELLO. _A proposito de G. V._ in _Boletim da Segunda
Classe da Ac. das Sciencias de Lisboa_, vol. X (1916), p. 315-8.

(96) W. S. HENDRIX. _The 'Auto da Barca do Inferno of G. V.' and the
Spanish 'Tragicomedia Aleg['o]rica del Parayso y del Infierno'_ in
_Modern Philology_, vol. XIII (1916), p. 173-84.

(97) A. BRAAMCAMP FREIRE. _G. V., trovador, mestre da balan[c,]a_ in
_Revista de Historia_, Nos. 21, 22, 24, 25, 26 (1917-8).

(98) A. COELHO DE MAGALH[~A]ES. _Tentativas pedag['o]gicas. II. A obra
vicentina no ensino secundario_ in _A ['A]guia_, Nos. 67-8 (1917), p. 5-16.

(99) A. A. MARQUES. _G. V. e as suas obras._ Portalegre, 1917.

(100) F. DE FIGUEIREDO. _Hist. da Litt. Classica_ (1917), p. 61-108.

(101) C. MICHA["E]LIS DE VASCONCELLOS. _Notas Vicentinas II_ in _Rev. da
Univ. de Coimbra_, vol. VI (1918), p. 263-303.

(102) C. MICHA["E]LIS DE VASCONCELLOS. _Notas Vicentinas III_, _ib._ vol.
VII (1919), p. 35-51.


FOOTNOTES:

[156] For a more detailed account of some of the works here recorded see
C. Micha["e]lis de Vasconcellos, _Notas Vicentinas I_ (1912).




CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE OF GIL VICENTE'S LIFE


           G.V.'s Life
                          Order of G.V.'s Plays
                                         Contemporary Events

  c.1465?  Birth of G.V.
  c.1465                                 Death of Fran[c,]ois Villon.
    1466                                 Death of Donatello.
    1467                                 Birth of Desiderius Erasmus.
    1469                                 Death of Jorge Manrique.
     --                                  Birth of Niccol[`o] Machiavelli.
    1469?                                Birth of Juan del Enzina.
    1470                                 Birth of Pietro Bembo.
     --                                  Birth of Garcia de Resende.
    1471                                 Birth of Albrecht D["u]rer.
    1474                                 Birth of Lodovico Ariosto.
    1475                                 Birth of Michael Angelo.
    1477                                 Birth of Titian.
    1478                                 Birth of Baldassare Castiglione
                                         ([+] 1526).
     --                                  Birth of Gian Giorgio Trissino.
     --                                  Birth of Sir Thomas More.
    1481                                 Accession of Jo[~a]o II.
    1482                                 Birth of Bernardim Ribeiro.
    1483                                 Birth of Raffael.
     --                                  Birth of Martin Luther.
     --                                  Birth of Francesco Guicciardini.
     --                                  Beheadal of Duke of Braganza.
   [1484-6 Snr Braamcamp Freire assigns G.V.'s first marriage to one of
           these years]
    1484                                 King Jo[~a]o II stabs to death
                                         the Duke of Viseu.
    1485 [or later]                      Birth of S['a] de Miranda.
   [1486-8 Acc. to Snr Braamcamp Freire, birth of G. V.'s eldest son]
    1486                                 Birth of Andrea del Sarto.
     --                                  Death of Andrea Verrocchio.
    1487                                 Cape of Good Hope rounded by
                                         Bartholomeu Dias.
    1489                                 Birth of Thomas Cranmer.
    1490?  G.V. comes to Court at Evora?
  c.1490?  G.V.'s first marriage [to Branca Bezerra]?
    1490                                 Marriage of Prince Afonso and
                                         Isabel, d. of the Catholic Kings.
     --                                  Birth of Vittoria Colonna.
    1491                                 Death of Prince Afonso at
                                         Santarem.
     --                                  Birth of S. Ignacio de Loyola.
     --                                  Christopher Columbus sails for
                                         America.
     --                                  First Portuguese book printed in
                                         Portugal.
  c.1492?  Birth of G.V.'s eldest son, Gaspar?
    1492                                 Conquest of Granada.
    1493                                 Columbus arrives at Lisbon
                                         (6 March)
                                         after discovering America.
     --                                  Birth of Andr['e] de Resende.
    1493 or 4                            Birth of Nicolaus Clenardus.
    1494                                 Death of Angelo Poliziano.
    1494 or 5                            Birth of Fran[c,]ois Rabelais.
    1495 (25 Oct.)                       Accession of King Manuel.
    1496?                                Birth of Cl['e]ment Marot
                                         ([+] 1544).
    1497 (July)                          Vasco da Gama leaves Lisbon.
     --                                  Forced conversion of Jews in
                                         Portugal.
     --                                  Birth of Hans Holbein.
     --                                  Birth of Philip Melancthon.
    1498                                 Girolamo Savonarola burnt at
                                         Florence.
    1499 (Sept.)                         Return of Gama from India.
    1500                                 Pedro Alvarez Cabral discovers
                                         Brazil.
     --                                  Death of Sandro Botticelli.
     --                                  Birth of Benvenuto Cellini.
     --                                  Birth of Emperor Charles V.
     --                                  Birth of Dom Jo[~a]o de Castro.
    1502 (6 June)                        Birth of Jo[~a]o III.
    1502 (Lisbon,
      7 or 8 June)        _Auto da Visita[c,]am_(1).
     --  (Lisbon,
        Christmas)        _Auto Pastoril Castelhano_(2).
    1503-6 G.V. fashions the celebrated Belem monstrance with the first
           tribute of gold from India.
    1503 (Lisbon,
           6 Jan.)        _Auto dos Reis Magos_ (3).
    1503                                 Birth of Garci Lasso de la Vega.
     --                                  Birth of Sir Thomas Wyatt.
     --                                  Famine and plague in Portugal.
     --                                  The cousins Albuquerque and Duarte
                                         Pacheco Pereira sail for India.
     -- (24 Oct.)                        Birth of Infanta (afterwards
                                         Empress) Isabel.
    1504 (Lisbon)         _Auto de S. Martinho_ (4).
    1504                                 Heroic campaign of D. Pacheco
                                         Pereira in India.
     -- (31 Dec.)                        Birth of Inf. Beatriz.
    1505?                                Birth of G.V.'s second son,
                                         Belchior.
    1505                                 Riots against Jews at Evora.
    1505 (end July)                      Arrival at Lisbon of 15 ships
                                         laden with spices. Solemn
                                         procession in honor of D. Pacheco.
    1506   G.V. preaches a sermon in verse on the birth of Prince Luis
           (3 March).
    1506 (Low Sunday, _Pascoela_)        Massacre of Jews at Lisbon.
     --                                  Birth of S. Francis Xavier.
     --                                  Birth of Inf. Luis ([+] 1555).
     --  (30 Sept.)                      Death of D. Beatriz (King Manuel's
                                         mother).
    1507 (5 June)                        Birth of Inf. Fernando.
    1508                                 The King raises interdict placed
                                         on Lisbon after massacre of Jews.
    1508 (Dec.) or
    1509 (Jan.) (Lisbon)  _Quem tem farelos?_ (5).
     --                                  News brought to the King at Evora
                                         of the siege of Arzila.
    1509?  G.V. writes some verses for a poetical contest at Almada,
           printed in the _Canc. de Resende_ (1516).
    1509 (Jan.)                          D. Pacheco defeats the French
                                         pirate Mondragon.
    1509 (15 Feb.) G.V. is appointed _Vedor_ (overseer) of all works in
           gold and silver in the Convent of Thomar, the Hospital of All
           Saints, Lisbon, and the Convent of Belem.
    1509 (Almada,
      Holy Week?)         _Auto da India_ (6).
     --  (23 Ap.)                        Birth of Inf. Afonso.
    1509                                 Birth of Jean Calvin.
     --                                  Afonso de Albuquerque Governor of
                                         India.
    1510                                 Death of Dom Francisco de Almeida,
                                         first Viceroy of India.
     --                                  Albuquerque attacks Calicut and
                                         takes Goa.
    1510?                                Birth of Lope de Rueda.
    1510 (Almeirim,
         Christmas)       _Auto da F['e]_ (7).
    1511                                 Albuquerque takes Malaca.
    1511 (Lisbon,
        Carnival?)        _Auto das Fadas_ (8).
     --                                  Henry VIII of England sends King
                                         Manuel, his brother-in-law, the
                                         Order of the Garter.
    1512 (31 Jan.)                       Birth of Cardinal-King Henrique
                                         ([+] 1580).
    1512 (Lisbon,
    early in the year)    _Farsa dos Fisicos_ (9).
    1512 (21 Dec.) G.V. is elected one of the Twenty-four by the Lisbon
           Guild of Goldsmiths.
    1513                                 James, Duke of Braganza, sets sail
                                         from Lisbon with a
                                         splendidly-equipped fleet of 450
                                         vessels to capture Azamor.
     --                                  Albuquerque in the Red Sea and at
                                         Aden.
    1513 (4 Feb.) G.V. is appointed _Mestre da Balan[c,]a_.
    1513 (Lisbon,
        Holy Week?)       _O Velho da Horta_ (10).
     --  (Lisbon, August) _Exhorta[c,][~a]o da Guerra_ (11).
     --  (17 Oct.) G.V. is elected by the Twenty-four to be one of their
           four representatives on the Lisbon Town Council.
    1513? (Lisbon,
         Christmas)       _Auto da Sibila Cassandra_ (12).
     --                                  Leo X, son of Lorenzo de' Medici,
                                         becomes Pope.
    1514 (1512-14?) G.V. loses his first wife, Branca Bezerra.
    1514 (Lisbon)         _Comedia do Viuvo_ (13).
    1514                                 Portuguese Embassy to Pope Leo X
                                         with magnificent presents from the
                                         East. Garcia de Resende and the
                                         rest of the Mission reach Italy
                                         end of Jan. 1514.
    1515 (7 Sept.)                       Birth of Inf. Duarte.
     -- (21 Sept.) G.V. receives a grant of 20 milreis for the dowry of his
           sister Felipa Borges.
    1515? (Lisbon,
      2nd half of year)   _Auto da Fama_ (14).
                          [Snr Braamcamp Freire assigns the _Auto da Festa_
                          to this year 1515.]
     --  (Dec.)                          Death of Albuquerque in India.
     --                                  Birth of Santa Teresa at Avila.
    1516 (9 Sept.)                       Birth of Inf. Antonio.
    1516? (Lisbon,
         Christmas)       _Auto dos Quatro Tempos_ (15).
     --                                  Discovery of Mexico.
     --                                  Garcia de Resende's _Cancioneiro
                                         Geral_ published.
     --                                  Death of Giovanni Bellini.
    1517                                 Luther starts the Reformation.
     --  (Feb.)                          King Manuel organises a fight
                                         between a rhinoceros and an
                                         elephant in an enclosed space in
                                         front of Lisbon's _Casa da
                                         Contrata[c,]am da India_.
     --  (7 March)                       Death of Queen Maria.
    1517 (Lisbon)         _Auto da Barca do Inferno_ (16).
    1517 (6 Aug.) G.V. resigns the post of _Mestre da Balan[c,]a_ in favour
           of Diogo Rodriguez.
    1517?  G.V. marries Melicia Rodriguez.
    1518? (Lisbon,
       Holy Week)         _Auto da Alma_ (17).
    1517 or 18                           Birth of Francisco de Hollanda.
    1518 (23 Nov.)                       Queen Lianor (King Manuel's third
                                         wife) arrives in Portugal.
    1518 (Lisbon,
        Christmas)        _Auto da Barca do Purgatorio_ (18).
                          [General Brito Rebello, Dr Theophilo Braga and
                          Senhor Braamcamp Freire assign the verses to the
                          Conde de Vimioso to this year 1518.]
     --                                  Birth of Tintoretto.
  c.1519?  Birth of G.V.'s eldest daughter, Paula.
    1519 (Lisbon,
        Holy Week)        _Auto da Barca da Gloria_ (19).
    1519                                 King Charles of Spain elected
                                         Emperor (Charles V).
     --                                  Death of Leonardo da Vinci.
     --                                  Death of John Colet.
    1520   G.V. makes arrangements for the royal entry into Lisbon.
    1520?  Birth of G.V.'s son Luis.
     -- (18 Feb.)                        Birth of Inf. Carlos at Evora
                                         ([+] Lisbon, 15 Ap. 1521).
     --                                  Death of Raffael.
     --                                  Death of John Skelton.
     --                                  Fern[~a]o de Magalh[~a]es
                                         discovers the 'Straits of
                                         Magellan.'
    1521 (Jan.)                          King and Queen's entry into
                                         Lisbon.
     --  (Lisbon,
       Holy Week?)        _Comedia de Rubena_ (20).
     -- (Lisbon,
         4 Aug.)          _Cortes de Jupiter_ (21).
     -- (8 June)                         Birth of Inf. Maria ([+] 1577).
     --                                  Solemn reception in Lisbon of
                                         Embassy from Venice.
     --                                  Departure of Inf. Beatriz to wed
                                         the Duke of Savoy.
     -- (13 Dec.)                        Death of King Manuel.
     -- (Dec.)                           Proclamation of Jo[~a]o III.
     --                                  Death of Magalh[~a]es.
    1522                  _Pranto de Maria Parda._
     --                                  Famine in Portugal.
    1523   G.V. receives the sum of six milreis.
     --                                  Clement VII becomes Pope.
     -- (Thomar,
          July-Sept.)     _Farsa de Ines Pereira_ (22).

     -- (Evora,
        Christmas)        _Auto Pastoril Portugues_ (23).

    1524   G.V. receives two pensions (12 and 8 milreis).
     --  (Evora, 2nd
        half of year)     _Fragoa de Amor_ (24)
     --                                  Birth of Pierre Ronsard.
     --                                  Birth of Luis de Cam[~o]es.
     --                                  Death of Dom Vasco da Gama.
    1525   G.V. receives a pension of three bushels of wheat.
    1525? (Evora,
          Holy Week)      _Farsa das Ciganas_ (25).
     -- (Lisbon?)         _Dom Duardos_ (26).
     -- (Almeirim,
        Oct.-Nov.?)       _O Juiz da Beira_ (27).
     -- (Evora,
        Christmas)        _Auto da Festa_ (28).
     --                   _Trovas ao Conde de Vimioso._
     --                                  Plague and famine at Lisbon.
     --                                  Fran[c,]ois I taken prisoner at
                                         battle of Pavia.
     -- (17 Nov.)                        Death of Queen Lianor (widow of
                                         Jo[~a]o II).
     --                                  Birth of Joachim du Bellay.

    1526 (Lisbon, Jan.)   _Templo de Apolo_ (29).
    1526-8 (Almeirim)     _Sumario da Historia de Deos_ (30).
     -- (Almeirim)        _Dialogo sobre a Ressurrei[c,]am_ (31).
    1526                                 Marriage of Emperor Charles V and
                                         Isabel, d. of King Manuel.
     --                                  S['a] de Miranda returns from
                                         Italy.
     --                                  Bosc['a]n tackles the
                                         hendecasyllable.
    1527 (Lisbon)         _Nao de Amores_ (32).
     -- (Coimbra)         _Divisa da Cidade de Coimbra_ (33).
     -- (Coimbra)         _Farsa dos Almocreves_ (34).
     -- (Coimbra)         _Tragicomedia da Serra da Estrella_ (35).
     --                                  Birth of Inf. Maria.
     --                                  Birth of Fray Luis de Le['o]n.
     --                                  Birth of Philip II of Spain.
     --                                  Sack of Rome.
     --                                  Death of Machiavelli.
     --                   _Trovas a Dom Jo[~a]o III._
    1528   G.V. receives a further pension of 12 milreis.
    1528 (Lisbon,
         Christmas)       _Auto da Feira_ (36).
    1528                                 Death of D["u]rer.
     --                                  Birth of Antonio Ferreira.
    1529                                 Birth of Inf. Isabel.
    1529?                                Death of Juan del Enzina.
    1529 (Lisbon, April)  _Triunfo do Inverno_ (37).
    1529-30 (Lisbon, Christmas? Between Sept. 1529 and Feb. 19, 1530)
                          _O Clerigo da Beira_ (38).
  c.1530?  Birth of G.V.'s daughter Valeria Borges.
    1530 (15 Feb.)                       Birth of Inf. Beatriz.
    1531 (Jan.) G.V. preaches a sermon to the monks at Santarem on occasion
           of the earthquake.
  c.1530                  _Trovas a Felipe Guilhen._
    1531                  _Jubileu de Amores_ acted at Brussels.
     --                                  Birth of Inf. Manuel.
     -- (Jan.)                           Great earthquake at Lisbon and
                                         other towns.
     --                                  First Bull for establishment of
                                         Inquisition in Portugal.
    1531?                                Death of Bartolom['e] de Torres
                                         Naharro.
    1532 (Lisbon)         _Auto da Lusitania_ (39).
    1533 (Evora)          _Romagem de Aggravados_ (40).
     --  (Evora)          _Amadis de Gaula_ (41).
     --                                  Birth of Michel de Montaigne.
     --                                  Clenardus comes to Portugal from
                                         Salamanca.
    1533?                                Death of Duarte Pacheco.
    1534 (Oudivellas)     _Auto da Cananea_ (42).
     --  (Evora,
          Christmas)      _Auto da Mofina Mendes_ (43).
     --                                  Birth of Fernando de Herrera, _el
                                         Divino_.
    1535   G.V. receives 8 milreis as dress allowance (_vestiaria_).
     --                   [The Conde de Sabugosa assigns the _Auto da
                          Festa_ to this year.]
     --                                  Sir Thomas More executed.
    1536 (Evora)          _Floresta de Enganos_ (44).
    1536                                 Death of Erasmus.
     --                                  Death of Garci Lasso de la Vega.
     --                                  Death of Garcia de Resende.
     --                                  Introduction of Inquisition into
                                         Portugal.
    1536?  Death of G.V. at Evora.




INDEX OF PERSONS AND PLACES


  _Abrantes_, 48
  Abul (Vasco), xviii
  _Aden_, xxi
  Afonso V, x
  Afonso Prince, xii, xiii
  Afonso (Gregorio), xxxviii
  _Africa_, x, xix, xxii, 34, 75
  Alarc['o]n (Pedro Antonio de), l
  Albuquerque (Afonso de), xix, xxi, xxxv, 77
  _Alcoba[c,]a_, 39, 40
  Aleandro, Cardinal, xxvii, xxx
  Alfonso X, xl
  _Almada_, xix, 27, 76
  Almeida (Dom Francisco de), xxxv
  Almeida Garrett, Visconde, xlii, li
  _Almeirim_, xix, xxii, xxvi, xli
  Alvarez (Francisco), xxix
  _Amadis de Gaula_, xxx, xlv
  Anriquez (Luis), xiii
  _Apolonio, Libro de_, xlvii
  Aristotle, xxxvi, xliii, xlvi
  _Arruda_, 27, 76
  _Arzila_, xix
  Astorga, Marqu['e]s de, xxxi
  _Aulegrafia_, xxxix
  _Aveiro_, 46, 81
  _Azamor_, xx, xxi, 23, 75

  _Barcellos_, x
  Barros (Jo[~a]o de), xviii
  Beatriz, Dona, xiv, xv
  Beatriz, Duchess of Savoy, xxiii, 29, 77
  _Beira_, xi, xxxvii, xxxix, xl, xliii, 55, 71
  _Belem_, xv, xvi, xviii, xxxv
  Berceo (Gonzalo de), xxxvii
  Bezerra (Branca), xxi
  _Bible, The_, xxx, xxxvii, xlii, xliii, xlviii
  _Biscay_, 37
  Borges (Felipa), xiii
  Borges (Valeria), xxxi
  Braamcamp Freire (Anselmo), vi, ix, xii, xvi, xix, xx, xxii, xxv, xxvi,
      xxvii, xxix
  Braga (Theophilo), ix, xvi
  Braganza, Ferdinand, Duke of, x
  Braganza, James, Duke of, xx, 23, 75
  _Brazil_, xiv, 53
  Brito Rebello (Jacinto Ignacio), x, xviii, xxvi
  _Brittany_, 37
  Browning (Robert), xlix, 82
  _Brussels_, xxx

  Calder['o]n (Pedro), xliv, li
  Cam[~o]es (Luis de), xxv
  _Cananor_, xv
  _Cancioneiro da Vaticana_, xlii
  _Cancioneiro Geral_, ix, xiii, xxxvii, xlii, xliii, xlv
  _Candosa_, 80
  _Caparica_, 27, 76
  _Cartaxo_, 26, 76
  _Castilla_, xxviii, xxxii, xlv, 55, 69
  Catharine, Queen, xxv, xxix, xlv
  Caviceo (Jacopo), xliv
  _Cea_. See _Sea_
  Celestina, xlvi
  _Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles, Les_, l
  _Cert[~a]_. See _Sert[~a]e_
  Cervantes (Miguel de), li
  Charles V, xxv
  Chiado. _See_ Ribeiro (A.)
  _Cintra_. See _Sintra_
  Clenardus (Nicolaus), 80
  _Cochin_, x
  _Coimbra_, xxix, xli, 37, 55, 56, 57, 63, 78
  _Colares_, xxii
  Col['o]n (Fernando), xliv
  Columbus (Christopher), xiv
  _Conde Lucanor, El_, xlviii, l
  Correa Garc[~a]o (Pedro Antonio), li
  Coutinho, Marshal, xix
  _Covilham_, 68, 83
  _Crato_, xxii
  _Crete_, xxxii
  _Cronica Troyana_, xx
  Cunha (Trist[~a]o da), xix, 75, 76

  Dante Alighieri, xliii
  _Danza de la Muerte_, xxiv, xxxvii, xxxviii, xli, xlii, xliv
  Diaz (Hernando), xliv
  D["u]rer (Albrecht), 76

  _England_, xlvii
  Enzina (Juan del), xi, xiii, xx, xxi, xxxi, xli, xlii, xliv, xlv, 73, 75
  _Evora_, x, xii, xiii, xxii, xxv, xxviii, xxx, xxxi, xli, xliii

  Felipe, Infante, xxx
  Ferdinand the Catholic, xxi, xxxvii
  Fern['a]ndez (Lucas), xi, xxii, xxxvi, 73, 83
  Fernando, Infante, 29, 77
  _Fez_, 31, 35
  _Flanders_, 49
  Fortunatus (Venantius), 74
  _France_, xlii, xlvii, 26, 44, 49, 50, 81
  Fran[c,]ois I, xxx
  _Fronteira_, 64, 83

  Gama (Vasco da), xv
  Gaunt (John of), x
  Gautier (Th['e]ophile), 73
  _Germany_, 49
  _Gesta Romanorum_, xlvii
  _Goa_, xxi
  Goes (Dami[~a]o de), xi, xxiii, xxxii, 77
  Goethe (Johann Wolfgang von), 11, 73, 74
  _Gouvea_, 68, 83
  Gower (John), xlvii
  _Granada_, xiv
  _Guimar[~a]es, x_, xii
  _Guinea_, 40

  Henry, Cardinal-King, 75
  Henry, the Navigator, x
  Herculano (Alexandre), ix
  Hita, Archpriest of. _See_ Ruiz
  _Holland_, xlvii
  Hollanda (Francisco de), 76
  Hutten (Ulrich von), 76

  _India_, xiv, xv, xix, xxi, xl
  Isabel, Empress, xxiii, xxviii, 35, 56, 76-7
  Isabel, Infanta, xii, xiii
  Isabel, d. of Jo[~a]o III, xxix
  Isabella the Catholic, xv
  Iseu, xlv
  _Italy_, xi, xxix, xlvii, 82

  Jews, xxxii, xxxiii, xlix
  Jo[~a]o I, Master of Avis, x
  Jo[~a]o II, x, xii, xiii, xiv, xxxiv
  Jo[~a]o III, xiv, xxiii, xxiv, xxv, xxix, xxx, xxxii, xxxiii, 28
  Juan Manuel, Infante, xlviii, l

  La Fontaine (Jean de), l
  Lancaster, Philippa of. _See_ Philippa
  _Landeira_, 26, 76
  _Lazarillo de Tormes_, xliii
  Leite de Vasconcellos (Jos['e]), vi, ix, xi
  Lianor, Queen Consort of Jo[~a]o II, xii-xv, xvii-xxiii, xxv, l, 73, 74
  Lianor, Queen Consort of Manuel I, xxii, xxiii, xxxviii
  _Lisbon_, x, xiii-xvi, xviii-xxiv, xxvi, xxvii, xxxviii-xl, xlviii
  Luis, Infante, xviii, xxiii, 23, 75
  _Lumiar_, 26, 76
  Luther (Martin), xxxiii, xxxvi

  Machado (Sim[~a]o), 80
  Macias, xliv, 82
  _Malaca_, xxi
  Manrique (Gomez), xxi, 75, 77
  Manrique (Jorge), 73
  _Manteigas_, 68, 83
  Manuel I, xi, xiv, xv, xviii-xxiv, xxxii, xxxvii, xlvi, 73
  Maria, Queen, xiv, xxii, xlvi
  Martial, 78
  _Mealhada_, 26, 76
  _Medina_, 48, 81
  Menander, xxxi
  Men['e]ndez y Pelayo (Marcelino), v, xvi, xxv, xliv
  Micha["e]lis de Vasconcellos (Carolina), vi, ix, x
  Miguel, Infante, xliii
  _Minho_, x
  _Monsarraz_, 64
  _Morocco_, 31

  Newman (John Henry), Cardinal, xxx, li, 73, 74
  Nun' Alvarez Pereira, x

  Ortiz de Vilhegas (Diogo), 80
  Osorio (Jeronimo), xxiii
  _Oudivellas_, xxx

  Pacheco Pereira (Duarte), 90, 91
  _Pederneira_, 39, 79
  Penella, Conde de, xxxiv
  Philippa, Queen, x
  Pinto (Frei Heitor), xlix
  Plautus, xxxi, xliii
  _Portugal_, x, xx, xxiv, xxxv, xxxvi, xxxvii, xli, xlvii, 31, 77, 78,
      81
  Portugal (Dom Martinho de), xxviii
  Pradilla, El Bachiller de la, xxii
  Prestes (Antonio), l
  _Prevaricaci['o]n de Ad['a]n_, 74
  _Primaleon_, xxv
  _Psalm LI_, xxv

  _Quiloa_, xv

  _Repr['e]sentation d'Adam_, xlviii
  Resende (Andr['e] de), xviii
  Resende (Garcia de), ix, xii, xvi, xvii, xxxi, xxxiv, 75, 79
  _Residencia del Hombre, La_, 74
  _Ribatejo_, 26, 76
  Ribeiro (Antonio), _O Chiado_, xxvi, xxvii, l
  Ribeiro (Bernardim), xvi
  Ribeiro (Nuno), 45, 80
  Rodriguez (Diogo), xxii
  Rodriguez (Melicia), xxii, xxv
  _Rome_, xxx, xxxi, xxxiii, xxxix, 27, 33, 75, 76
  _Roncesvalles_, xlvi
  Rueda (Lope de), 1
  Ruiz (Juan), xliii

  Sabugosa, Conde de, xii, xxvi
  Sacchetti (Franco), xxxviii
  S['a] de Miranda (Francisco de), xxix, xliii, xlviii, 78, 79, 82
  _Salamanca_, xliii
  Sanches de Baena, Visconde, xvii
  Sanchez de Badajoz (Garci), xix
  San Pedro (Diego de), xliv
  _Santarem_, xxix, xxx, xxxii, xl, xli, 39
  _Santiago de Compostela_, xv
  _Sardoal_, 69, 70, 83
  _Sea_, 68, 83
  _Seixal_, 27, 76
  _Sergas de Esplandian, Las_, xviii
  _Serra da Estrella_, x, xi, 55-71, 82
  _Sert[~a]e_, 51, 82
  _Sevilla_, xliii
  Shakespeare (William), ix, xlvii, xlviii
  Shelley (Percy Bysshe), 73
  _Sintra_, xxii
  Sousa Viterbo (Francisco Marques de), xliii
  Southey (Robert), xxxiv
  _Spain_, xlii, xlvii
  Swinburne (Algernon Charles), 73

  _Taming of a Shrew_, xlviii
  Tentugal, Conde de, xxxiv
  Terence, xliii
  _Testament de Pathelin_, xlv
  _Thomar_, xviii, xxiv, xli
  Ticknor (George), xvii
  Timoneda (Juan de), xlvii
  _Tojal_, 27, 76
  Torres Naharro (Bartolom['e]), xi, xxxvi, xlv
  _Torres Vedras_, xxii
  _Tragicomedia aleg['o]rica del Paraiso y del Infierno_, 1
  Trissino (Gian Giorgio), xliii, 79
  _Turkey_, 44, 45
  Twine (Lawrence), xlvii

  _Val de Cobelo_, 49, 81
  Vald['e]s (Alfonso de), xxix
  Vald['e]s (Juan de), xxix, xliv
  _Valencia_, 7
  Vasconcellos (Joaquim de), 76
  Vaz (Sim[~a]o), 40
  Vega (Lope de), xvi, li
  Vel['a]zquez (Diego), xxxii
  _Venice_, 49
  Vicente (Belchior), xiii, xviii, 90
  Vicente (Gaspar), 90
  VICENTE (GIL), his birthplace, x, xi;
    date of his birth, xii-xiii;
    at Court, xii, 81;
    as goldsmith, xiv-xviii;
    his house in Lisbon, xv;
    his plays, xiv-li;
    his first wife, xxi;
    _Mestre da Balan[c,]a_, xviii;
    relations with King Jo[~a]o III, xxx;
    his financial position, xxv;
    his second marriage, xxii;
    date of his illness, xxvi;
    his _Ca[c,]a dos Segredos_, xxvi, xxviii;
    journey from Coimbra, xxix;
    at Almada, xix;
    Coimbra, xxix;
    Almeirim, xix, xxvi;
    Thomar, xviii, xxiv;
    Santarem, xxix, xxx, xxxii;
    Evora, xxv, xxviii, xxx, xxxi;
    his Brussels play, xxvii, xxx;
        children of his second marriage, xxxi;
    his death, xxxi;
    his character, xxxi-xxxvii;
    his attitude towards Spain, xxxii;
                         priests, xxxii, xxxvii;
                         Jews, xxxiii;
                         monks, xxxiv;
    his religion, xxxiv, 74;
    his love of Nature, xxxiv;
    his friends, xxxiv;
    his attitude towards royalty, xxxiii xxxiv, 83;
                 towards S['a] de Miranda and the new style, xxix, xliii;
    his patriotism, xx, xxxv;
    his critics, xxiv, xli;
    his attempts to reform abuses, xxxiii, xxxv, xxxvi;
    his view concerning the position of women, xxxvi, xlvii;
    his many-sidedness, xxxvi;
    his satirical sketches, xxxvii-xli;
    his lyrism, xli, l;
    his originality, xli, xlii, xlv;
    his sources, xli-l;
        debt to Spain, xlii, xliii;
    his influence in Portugal, l;
                  in Spain, l, li;
    edition of his plays, xvi, xxxi, xxxv, li;
    _Visita[c,]am_, xi, xiii, xiv, xxiii, xlvi;
    _Auto Pastoril Castelhano_, xi, xv, xlvi, 73;
    _Reis Magos_, xi, xv, xlvi;
    _Auto de S. Martinho_, xv; Sermon, xviii, xix;
    _Quem tem farelos?_, xv, xix, xxvii, xliii, xlv, xlvi, xlix;
    _Auto da India_, xix;
    _Auto da F['e]_, xix, xxxiii, xliii, xlviii;
    _Auto das Fadas_, xix, xxiv, xliii, xlvi, 73, 77;
    _Farsa dos Fisicos_, xx, xliii, xlvi;
    _O Velho da Horta_, xiii, xx, xliv;
    _Exhorta[c,][~a]o da Guerra_, v, xx, xxi, xxviii, xliv, xlv, 23-35,
        75-8;
    _Auto da Sibila Cassandra_, xv, xx, xliv;
    _Comedia do Viuvo_, xi, xxi, xxiv, xlvi;
    _Auto da Fama_, xxi, xlii, xlvii;
    _Auto dos Quatro Tempos_, xv, xxi, xliv, xlvii;
    _Barca do Inferno_, xxii, xxxiii, xli, xliv, xlv, xlvii, li;
    _Auto da Alma_, v, vi, xvii, xxi, xxii, xxxii, xlv, xlvii, li, 1-21,
         73, 74;
    _Barca do Purgatorio_, xxii, xxxiii, xli, xliv, xlv, xlvii, li;
    _Barca da Gloria_, xxii, xxiv, xxxiii, xli, xliv, xlv, xlvii, li;
    _Comedia de Rubena_, xx, xxiii, xxiv, xliv, xlv, xlvii;
    _Cortes de Jupiter_, xxiii, xxiv, xliv, xlvii, 75;
    _Pranto de Maria Parda_, xxiv, xxviii;
    _Farsa de Ines Pereira_, xviii, xxiv, xxv, xxvi, xxviii, xlv, xlvii;
    _Auto Pastoril Portugues_, xxv, xlv;
    _Fragoa de Amor_, xxv, xxviii;
    _Farsa das Ciganas_, xxv, xxviii, xlv;
    _Dom Duardos_, xvii, xxv, xliv, xlv, xlviii;
    _O Juiz da Beira_, xxvi, xlv, xlviii;
    _Auto da Festa_, xii, xiii, xxv, xxvii, xxviii, xlviii;
    _Auto da Aderencia do Pa[c,]o_, xxvii;
    _Trovas ao Conde de Vimioso_, xxv, xxvi, xxviii;
    _Templo de Apolo_, xiii, xvi, xxvi, xxviii, xlviii;
    _Sumario da Historia de Deos_, xxix, xxxiii, xlii, xlviii, xlix;
    _Dialogo sobre a Ressurrei[c,]am_, xxix, xlviii;
    _Nao de Amores_, xxix, xlix, li;
    _Divisa da Cidade de Coimbra_, xxix, xlix;
    _Farsa dos Almocreves_, v, xvii, xxix, xlix, 37-53, 78-82;
    _Tragicomedia da Serra da Estrella_, v, xxix, xlix, 55-71, 82, 83;
    _Trovas a Dom Jo[~a]o III_, xxix;
    _Auto da Feira_, xvii, xxvii, xxix, xxxiii, xlv, xlix, 74, 81;
    _Triunfo do Inverno_, xxi, xxix, xlv, xlix;
    _O Clerigo da Beira_, xxvii, xxix, xlv, xlix;
    _Trovas a Felipe Guilhen_, 94;
    _Jubileu de Amores_, xxvii, xxx;
    _Ca[c,]a dos Segredos_, xxvi, xxviii;
    _Auto da Lusitania_, xxviii, xxx, xlix;
    _Romagem de Aggravados_, xxvii, xxx, xlvi, l;
    _Auto da Vida de Pa[c,]o_, xxvii;
    _Amadis de Gaula_, xxx, xlv, xlviii;
    _Auto da Cananea_, xxx, xxxiii, 74;
    _Mofina Mendes_, xi, xxi, xxvii, xxxi, l;
    _Floresta de Enganos_, xii, xxxi, l
  Vicente (Luis), xxv, xxxi
  Vicente (Martim), xii
  Vicente (Paula), xxxi
  Villa Nova, Conde de, xxiii
  Vimioso, Conde de, xxv, xxxiv
  Virgil, xiii, xliii
  _Viseu_, 50, 81
  Viseu, Duque de, x

  Wilkins (George), xlvii
  Wordsworth (William), xxxiv

  _Zamora_, 79, 81





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