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LA MOZA DE CÁNTARO

POR

LOPE DE VEGA

_EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES_

BY

MADISON STATHERS

   (_Docteur de l'Université de Grenoble_)
   _Professor of Romance Languages in West Virginia University_

COPYRIGHT, 1913,

BY

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY




PREFACE


The vast number of the works of Lope de Vega renders the task of
selecting one of them as an appropriate text for publication very
difficult, and it is only after having examined a large number of the
works of the great poet that the editor has chosen _La Moza de Cántaro_,
not only because it is one of the author's most interesting comedies,
but also because it stands forth prominently in the field in which he is
preëminent--the interpretation of Spanish life and character. It too is
one of the few plays of the poet which have continued down to recent
times in the favor of the Spanish theater-going public,--perhaps in the
end the most trustworthy critic. Written in Lope's more mature years, at
the time of his greatest activity, and probably corrected or rewritten
seven years later, this play contains few of the inaccuracies and
obscure passages so common to many of his works, reveals to us much of
interest in Spanish daily life and in a way reflects the condition of
the Spanish capital during the reign of Philip IV, which certainly was
one of the most brilliant in the history of the kingdom.

The text has been taken completely, without any omissions or
modifications, from the Hartzenbusch collection of _Comedias Escogidas
de Lope de Vega_ published in the _Biblioteca de Autores Españoles_ and,
where it varies from other texts with which it has been compared, the
variation is noted. The accentuation has been changed freely to conform
with present usage, translations have been suggested for passages of
more than ordinary difficulty and full notes given on proper names and
on passages that suggest historical or other connection. Literary
comparisons have been made occasionally and modern forms or equivalents
for archaic words and expressions have been given, but usually these
have been limited to words not found in the better class of dictionaries
commonly used in the study of such works.

The editor is especially indebted to Sr. D. Eugenio Fernández for aid in
the interpretation of several passages and in the correction of
accentuation, to Professor J. D. M. Ford for valuable suggestions, and
to Sr. D. Manuel Saavedra Martínez, Professor in the Escuela Normal de
Salamanca, for information not easily accessible.

M. S.

WEST VIRGINIA UNIVERSITY.




INTRODUCTION

I. LIFE OF LOPE DE VEGA


The family of Lope de Vega Carpio was one of high rank, if not noble,
and had a manor house in the mountain regions of northwestern Spain. Of
his parents we know nothing more than the scanty mention the poet has
given them in his works. It would seem that they lived a while at least
in Madrid, where the future prince of Spanish dramatists was born,
November 25, 1562. Of his childhood and early youth we have no definite
knowledge, but it appears that his parents died when he was very young
and that he lived some time with his uncle, Don Miguel del Carpio.

From his own utterances and those of his friend and biographer,
Montalvan, we know that genius developed early with him and that he
dictated verses to his schoolmates before he was able to write. In
school he was particularly brilliant and showed remarkable aptitude in
the study of Latin, rhetoric, and literature. These school days were
interrupted once by a truant flight to the north of Spain, but at
Astorga, near the ancestral estate of Vega, Lope, weary of the hardships
of travel, turned back to Madrid.

Soon after he left the Colegio de los Teatinos, at about the age of
fourteen, Lope entered the service of Don Jerónimo Manrique, Bishop of
Ávila, who took so great an interest in him that he sent him to the
famous University of Alcalá de Henares, where he seems to have spent
from his sixteenth to his twentieth year and on leaving to have received
his bachelor's degree. The next five years of his life are shrouded in
considerable obscurity. It was formerly believed, as related by
Montalvan, that he returned from the University of Alcalá to Madrid
about 1582, was married and, after a duel with a nobleman, was obliged
to flee to Valencia, where he remained until he enlisted in the
Invincible Armada in 1588, but recent research[1] has proved the case to
be quite otherwise. It would seem that, on leaving the University about
1582, he became Secretary to the Marqués de las Navas and that for four
or five years he led in Madrid a dissolute life, writing verses and
frequenting the society of actors and of other young degenerates like
himself and enjoying the favor of a young woman, Elena Osorio, whom he
addressed in numberless poems as "Filis" and whom he calls "Dorotea" in
his dramatic romance of the same name. In the latter work he relates
shamelessly and with evident respect for truth of detail many of his
adventures of the period, which, as Ticknor says, "do him little credit
as a young man of honor and a cavalier."

[Note 1: Professor Hugo Albert Rennert, in his excellent and
exhaustive work entitled _The Life of Lope de Vega_, from which many of
the details of this Introduction are taken, quotes at length from
Tomillo and Pérez Pastor's _Datos Desconocidos_ the Spanish criminal
records of the _Proceso de Lope de Vega por Libelos contra unos
Cómicos_. In the course of the procedure much light is thrown upon this
period of Lope's life.]

In the light of the recent information cited above, we know also that
Lope's career immediately after 1587 was quite different from what his
contemporary Montalvan had led the world long to believe. In the
_Proceso de Lope de Vega por libelos contra unos Cómicos_, it is shown
that the poet, having broken with "Filis," circulated slanderous verses
written against her father, Jerónimo Velázquez, and his family. The
author was tried and sentenced to two years' banishment from Castile and
eight more from within five leagues of the city of Madrid. He began his
exile in Valencia, but soon disobeyed the decree of banishment, which
carried with it the penalty of death if broken, and entered Castile
secretly to marry, early in 1588, Doña Isabel de Urbina, a young woman
of good family in the capital. Accompanied by his young wife, he
doubtless went on directly to Lisbon, where he left her and enlisted in
the Invincible Armada, which sailed from that port, May 29, 1588. During
the expedition, according to his own account, Lope fought bravely
against the English and the Dutch, using, as he says, his poems written
to "Filis" for gun-wads, and yet found time to write a work of eleven
thousand verses entitled _la Hermosura de Angélica_. The disastrous
expedition returned to Cadiz in December, and Lope made his way back to
the city of his exile, Valencia, where he was joined by his wife. There
they lived happily for some time, the poet gaining their livelihood by
writing and selling plays, which up to that time he had written for his
own amusement and given to the theatrical managers.

Of the early literary efforts of Lope de Vega, such as have come down
to us are evidently but a small part, but from them we know something of
the breadth of his genius. In childhood even he wrote voluminously, and
one of his plays, _El Verdadero Amante_, which we have of this early
period, was written at the age of twelve, but was probably rewritten
later in the author's life. He wrote also many ballads, not a few of
which have been preserved, and we know that, at the time of his
banishment, he was perhaps the most popular poet of the day.

The two years following the return of the Armada, Lope continued to live
in Valencia, busied with his literary pursuits, but in 1590, after his
two years of banishment from Castile had expired, he moved to Toledo and
later to Alba de Tormes and entered the service of the Duke of Alba,
grandson of the great soldier, in the capacity of secretary. For his
employer he composed about this time the pastoral romance _Arcadia_,
which was not published until 1598. The remaining years of his
banishment, which was evidently remitted in 1595, were uneventful
enough, but this last year brought to him a great sorrow in the death of
his faithful wife. However, he seems to have consoled himself easily,
for on his return to Madrid the following year we know of his entering
upon a career of gallant adventures which were to last many years and
which were scarcely interrupted by his second marriage in 1598 to Doña
Juana de Guardo.

Aside from his literary works the following twelve years of the life of
Lope offer us but little of interest. The first few years of the period
saw the appearance of _La Dragontea_, an epic poem on Sir Francis
Drake, and _Isidro_, a long narrative poem on the life and achievements
of San Isidro, patron of Madrid. These two works were followed in 1605
by his epic, _Jerusalén Conquistada_, an untrustworthy narration of the
achievements of Richard Coeur-de-Lion and Alfonso VIII in the crusade
at the close of the twelfth century. Lope left the service of the Duke
of Alba on his return to Madrid, or about that time, and during the next
decade held similar positions under the Marqués de Malpica and the Conde
de Lemos, and during a large part of this period he led a more or less
vagabond existence wherever the whims of his employers or his own
gallant adventures led him. About 1605 he made the acquaintance of the
Duque de Sessa, who shortly afterwards became his patron and so
continued until the death of the poet about thirty years later. The
correspondence of the two forms the best source for the biography of
this part of Lope's career. From 1605 until 1610 he lived in Toledo with
his much neglected wife, of whom we have no mention since their marriage
in 1598. But in 1610 they moved to Madrid, where Lope bought the little
house in what is now the Calle de Cervantes, and in this house the great
poet passed the last quarter of a century of his long and eventful life.

The next few years following this return to the capital were made
sorrowful to Lope by the sickness and death of both his wife and his
beloved little son, Carlos Félix, in whom the father had founded the
fondest hopes. Then it was that Lope, now past the fiftieth year of his
age, sought refuge, like so many of his contemporaries and compatriots,
in the protecting fold of the Church. Before the death of his wife he
had given evidence of religious fervor by numerous short poems and in
his sacred work, _los Pastores de Belén_, a long pastoral in prose and
in verse relating the early history of the Holy Family. Whether Lope was
influenced to take orders by motives of pure devotion or by reasons of
interest has been a question of speculation for scholars ever since his
time. From his works we can easily believe that both of these motives
entered into it; in fact he says as much in his correspondence with the
Duque de Sessa. Speaking of this phase of the poet's life,
Fitzmaurice-Kelly says: "It was an ill-advised move. Ticknor, indeed,
speaks of a 'Lope, no longer at an age to be deluded by his passions';
but no such Lope is known to history. While a Familiar of the
Inquisition the true Lope wrote love-letters for the loose-living Duque
de Sessa, till at last his confessor threatened to deny him absolution.
Nor is this all: his intrigue with Marta de Navares Santoyo, wife of
Roque Hernández de Ayala, was notorious." But later, speaking of those
who may study these darker pages of Lope's career, he adds: "If they
judge by the standards of Lope's time, they will deal gently with a
miracle of genius, unchaste but not licentious; like that old Dumas,
who, in matters of gaiety, energy and strength, is his nearest modern
compeer." We may say further that Lope, with no motive to deceive or
shield himself, for he seems to have almost sought to give publicity to
his licentiousness, was faithful in the discharge of his religious
offices, evincing therein a fervor and devotion quite exemplary. Yet
neither does his gallantry nor his devotion seem to have ever halted his
pen for a moment in the years that succeeded his ordination. His
dramatic composition of this period is quite abundant and other literary
forms are not neglected.

Two interesting incidents in the poet's life are never omitted by his
biographers. They are the beatification, in 1620, of San Isidro and his
canonization, two years later, with their accompanying poet "jousts," at
both of which Lope presided and assumed a leading rôle. Before this time
he was known as a great author and worshiped by the element interested
in the drama, but on both these occasions he had an opportunity to
declaim his incomparable verses and those of the other contesting poets,
revealing his majestic bearing and versatility to the great populace of
Madrid, his native city. He was thereafter its literary lion, whose very
appearance in the streets furnished an occasion for tumultuous
demonstration of affection.

The last decade of the life of Lope de Vega saw him seeking no rest or
retirement behind the friendly walls of some monastic retreat, but
rather was it the most active period of his literary career. Well may we
say that he had no declining years, for he never knew rest or realized a
decline of his mental faculties. He did not devote by any means all his
time to his literary pursuits, but found time to attend faithfully to
his religious duties and to the cares of his home, for he had gathered
about him his children, Feliciana, Lope Félix and Antonia Clara, of
whom the last two and Marcela, in a convent since 1621, were the gifted
fruit of illicit loves. In 1627 he published his _Corona Trágica_, a
long religious epic written on the history of the life and fate of Mary,
Queen of Scots. This work won for him the degree of Doctor of Divinity,
conferred with other evidences of favor by Pope Urban VIII. Three years
later appeared Lope's _Laurel de Apolo_, a poem of some seven thousand
lines describing an imaginary festival given on Mount Helicon in April,
1628, by Apollo, at which he rewards the poets of merit. The work is
devoted to the praise of about three hundred contemporary poets. In 1632
the poet published his prose romance, _Dorotea_, written in the form of
drama, but not adapted to representation on the stage. It is a very
interesting work drawn from the author's youth and styled by him as "the
posthumous child of my Muse, the most beloved of my long-protracted
life."[2] It is most important for the light it sheds on the early years
of his life, for it is largely autobiographical. Another volume, issued
from the pen of Lope in 1634 under the title of _Rimas del licenciado
Tomé de Burguillos_, contains the mock-heroic, _La Gatomaquia_, the
highly humorous account of the love of two cats for a third.
Fitzmaurice-Kelly describes this poem as, "a vigorous and brilliant
travesty of the Italian epics, replenished with such gay wit as suffices
to keep it sweet for all time."

[Note 2: _Égloga á Claudio_, _Obras Sueltas_, Vol. IX, p. 367.]

Broken in health and disappointed in some of his fondest dreams, the
great poet was now rapidly approaching the end of his life. It is
believed that domestic disappointments and sorrows hastened greatly his
end. It would appear from some of his works that his son, Lope Félix, to
whom he dedicated the last volume mentioned above, was lost at sea the
same year, and that his favorite daughter, Antonia Clara, eloped with a
gallant at the court of Philip IV. Four days before his death Lope
composed his last work, _El Siglo de Oro_, and on August 27, 1635, after
a brief serious illness, the prince of Spanish drama and one of the
world's greatest authors, Lope Félix de Vega Carpio breathed his last in
the little home in the Calle de Francos, now the Calle de Cervantes. His
funeral, with the possible exception of that of Victor Hugo, was the
greatest ever accorded to any man of letters, for it was made the
occasion of national mourning. The funeral procession on its way to the
church of San Sebastian turned aside from its course so that the poet's
daughter, Marcela, might see from her cell window in the convent of the
Descalzadas the remains of her great father on the way to their last
resting-place.


II. THE EARLY SPANISH THEATER AND THE DRAMA OF LOPE DE VEGA

The theater of the Golden Age of Spanish letters occupies a position
unique in the history of the theaters of modern Europe, for it is
practically free from foreign influence and is largely the product of
the popular will. Like other modern theaters, however, the Spanish
theater springs directly from the Church, having its origin in the
early mysteries, in which the principal themes were incidents taken from
the lives of the saints and other events recorded in the Old and the New
Testament, and in the moralities, in which the personages were abstract
qualities of vices and virtues. These somewhat somber themes in time
failed to satisfy the popular will and gradually subjects of a more
secular nature were introduced. This innovation in England and France
was the signal for the disappearance of the sacred plays; but not so in
Spain, where they were continued several centuries, under the title of
_autos_, after they had disappeared in other parts of Europe.

The beginnings of the Spanish secular theater were quite humble and most
of them have been lost in the mists of time and indifference. The
recognized founder of the modern Spanish theater appeared the same year
Columbus discovered the New World. Agustín Rojas, the actor, in his
_Viaje entretenido_, says of this glorious year: "In 1492, Ferdinand and
Isabella saw fall the last stronghold of the Moors in the surrender of
Granada, Columbus discovered America, and Juan del Encina founded the
Spanish theater." Juan del Encina was a graduate of the University of
Salamanca and lived at the time mentioned above in the household of the
Duke of Alba at Alba de Tormes. It was here that, before select
audiences, were first presented his early plays or _Églogas_. The plays
of Encina, fourteen in number, were staged and constitute the modest
beginnings of a movement that was to develop rapidly in the next two
decades. A contemporary of Juan del Encina, Fernando de Rojas,
published in 1498 his famous dramatized romance, _La Celestina_, which,
while it was not suited for representation on the stage, was a work of
great literary merit and had remarkable influence on the early drama.
About the same time a disciple of Juan del Encina, Gil Vicente, founded
the Portuguese theater and made notable contributions to Spanish
letters, for he seems to have written with equal facility in the two
idioms. Perhaps the greatest dramatic genius of the period, Bartolomé
Torres Naharro, while he wrote in Spanish, passed the greater part of
his life in Italy, where he published at Naples in 1517 an edition of
his plays entitled _Propaladia_. He, first of Spanish authors, divided
his plays into five acts, called _jornadas_, limited the number of
personages, and created a plot worthy of the name.

For almost half a century after the publication of the _Propaladia_ the
Spanish theater advanced but little, for this was the period when Carlos
Quinto ruled Spain and kept the national interest fixed on his military
achievements, which were for the most part outside of the peninsula. But
about 1560 there flourished in Spain probably the most important figure
in the early history of the national drama. This was the Sevillian
gold-beater, later actor and dramatic author, Lope de Rueda. The
dramatic representations before this time were doubtless limited in a
large measure to select audiences in castles and courts of noble
residences; but Lope de Rueda had as his theater the public squares and
market-places, and as his audience the great masses of the Spanish
people, who now for the first time had a chance to dictate the trend
which the national drama should take. In his rôle of manager and
playwright Lope de Rueda showed no remarkable genius, but he began a
movement which was to reach its culmination and perfection under the
leadership of no less a personage than the great Lope himself. Between
the two Lopes there lived and wrote a number of dramatic authors of
diverse merit. Lope de Rueda's work was continued by the Valencian
bookseller, Juan de Timoneda, and by his fellow actors, Alonso de la
Vega and Alonso de Cisneros. In this interim there took place a struggle
between the popular and classic schools. The former was defended by such
authors as Juan de la Cueva and Cristóbal de Virués, while the latter
was espoused by Gerónimo Bermúdez and others. The immortal Cervantes
wrote many plays in this period and claimed to favor the classic drama,
but his dramatic works are not of sufficient importance to win for him a
place in either party. Thus we find that in 1585 Spain had a divided
drama, represented on the one side by the drama of reason and proportion
fashioned after Greek and Roman models, and on the other a loosely
joined, irregular, romantic drama of adventure and intrigue, such as was
demanded by the Spanish temperament. Besides the defenders of these
schools there was an infinite variety of lesser lights who wrote all
sorts of plays from the grossest farces to the dullest Latin dramas.
Before taking up the discussion of the works of the mighty genius who
was to establish the popular drama, it is well to give a brief glance at
the people who presented plays and the places in which they were given.

As has been already observed, the dramas of Juan del Encina and his
immediate successors were probably presented to limited audiences. It is
not improbable that parts were often taken by amateurs rather than by
members of regular troupes. However, at an early date there were many
strolling players who are classed in the _Viaje entretenido_ in no less
than eight professional grades: (1) The _bululú_, a solitary stroller
who went from village to village reading simple pieces in public places
and living from the scanty collections taken among the audience. (2) The
_ñaque_, two players, who could perform _entremeses_ and play one or two
musical instruments. (3) The _gangarilla_, group of three or four actors
of whom one was a boy to play a woman's part. They usually played a
farce or some other short play. (4) The _cambaleo_ was composed of five
men and a woman and remained several days in each village. (5) The
_garnacha_ was a little larger than the _cambaleo_ and could represent
four plays and several autos and _entremeses_. (6) The _bojiganga_
represented as many as six _comedias_ and a number of _autos_ and
_entremeses_, had some approach at regular costumes, and traveled on
horseback. (7) The _farándula_ was composed of from ten to fifteen
players, was well equipped and traveled with some ease. (8) The
_compañía_ was the most pretentious theatrical organization composed of
thirty persons, capable of producing as many as fifty pieces and
accustomed to travel with dignity due the profession. Of still greater
simplicity were the theaters where these variously classified actors
gave their plays. In the villages and towns they were simply the plaza
or other open space in which the rude stage and paraphernalia were
temporarily set up. Quoting from Cervantes, Ticknor says of the theater
of Lope de Rueda: "The theater was composed of four benches, arranged in
a square, with five or six boards laid across them, that were thus
raised about four palms from the ground. The furniture of the theater
was an old blanket drawn aside by two cords, making what they called the
tiring-room, behind which were the musicians, who sang old ballads
without a guitar." In the larger cities such simplicity cannot be
expected in the later development of the theater, for there the interest
and resources were greater. In this respect Madrid, the capital, may be
considered as representative of the most advanced type. In that city the
plays were given in _corrales_ or open spaces surrounded on all sides by
houses except the side nearest the street. By the beginning of the
seventeenth century these _corrales_ were reduced to two principal
ones--the Corral de la Pacheca (on the site of the present Teatro
Español) and the Corral de la Cruz, in the street of the same name. The
windows of the houses surrounding these _corrales_, with the adjoining
rooms, formed _aposentos_ which were rented to individuals and which
were entered from the houses themselves. At the end farthest from the
entrance of the _corral_ was the stage, which was raised above the level
of the ground and covered by a roof. In front of the stage and around
the walls were benches, those in the latter position rising in tiers. On
the left hand and on a level with the ground was the _cazuela_ or
women's gallery. The ground to the rear of the benches in front of the
stage was open and formed the "standing-room" of the theater. With the
exception of the stage, a part of the benches and the _aposentos_, the
whole was in the open air and unprotected from the weather. In such
unpretentious places the masterpieces of Lope de Vega and of many of his
successors were presented. With this environment in mind we shall
proceed to a brief review of the dramatic works of el _Fénix de los
ingenios_.

Lope de Vega found the Spanish drama a mass of incongruities without
form, preponderating influence, or type, he left it in every detail a
well-organized, national drama, so perfect that, though his successors
polished it, they added nothing to its form.[3] When or how he began
this great work, it is not certain. He says in his works that he wrote
plays as early as his eleventh year and conceived them even younger, and
we have one of his plays, _El Verdadero Amante_, written, as has been
mentioned, when he was twelve, but corrected and published many years
later. Of all his plays written before his banishment, little is known
but it is natural to suppose that they resembled in a measure the works
of predecessors, for this period must be considered the apprenticeship
of Lope. Though written for the author's pleasure, they were evidently
numerous, for Cervantes says that Lope de Vega "filled the world with
his own _comedias_, happily and judiciously planned, and so many that
they covered more than ten thousand sheets." That his merit was soon
appreciated is evident from the fact that theatrical managers were
anxious to have these early compositions and that during his banishment
he supported himself and family in Valencia by selling plays and
probably kept the best troupes of the land stocked with his works alone.
Of the number of his works the figures are almost incredible. In _El
Peregrino en su Patria_, published in 1604, he gives a list of his
plays, which up to that time numbered two hundred and nineteen; in 1609
he says, in _El Arte Nuevo de hacer Comedias_, that the number was then
four hundred and eighty-three; in prologues or prefaces of his works
Lope tells us that he had written eight hundred plays in 1618, nine
hundred in 1619 and one thousand and seventy in 1625. In the _Égloga á
Claudio_, written in 1632, and in the concluding lines of _La Moza de
Cántaro_, revised probably the same year, he says that he is the author
of fifteen hundred comedias. In the _Fama Póstuma_, written after his
death in 1635 by his friend Montalvan, it is stated that the number of
dramatic works of Lope included eighteen hundred _comedias_ and four
hundred _autos_. From the above figures it is evident that Lope composed
at times on an average a hundred _comedias_ a year, and this after he
had passed his fiftieth year! Yet still more astonishing is his own
statement in regard to them:

      «Y más de ciento, en horas veinte y cuatro,
      Pasaron de las musas al teatro.»[4]

And it is a matter of history that he composed his well-known _La Noche
de San Juan_ for the favorite, Olivares, in three days. This, in
addition to his other works, offers us a slight insight into the
wonderful fertility of the man's genius and gives reason to Cervantes
and his contemporaries for calling him "el monstruo de la naturaleza"
and "el Fénix de los ingenios."

[Note 3: Lope was by no means unaware of his important influence on
the Spanish theater. In his _Epístola á Don Antonio de Mendoza_ he
evinces it in the following lines:

      Necesidad y yo partiendo á medias
      el estado de versos mercantiles,
      pusimos en estilo las Comedias.
      Yo las saqué de sus principios viles,
      engendrando en España más Poetas,
      que hay en los ayres átomos sutiles.

_Obras Sueltas_, vol. I, p. 285.

]

[Note 4: _Obras Sueltas_, Vol. IX, p. 368.]

To his plays Lope de Vega has given the general name of _comedias_,
which should not be confused with the word "comedies," for the two are
not synonymous. They are divided into three acts or _jornadas_ of
somewhat variable length and admit of numerous classifications. Broadly
speaking, we may divide the _comedias_ into four groups: (1) _Comedias
de capa y espada_, which Lope created and which include by far the
greater number of his important works. In these plays the principal
personages are nobles and the theme is usually questions of love and
honor. (2) _Comedias heroicas_, which have royalty as the leading
characters, are lofty or tragical in sentiment, and have historical or
mythological foundation. (3) _Comedias de santos_, which represent some
incident of biblical origin or some adventure in the lives of the
saints. In them the author presents the graver themes of religion to the
people in a popular and comprehensible manner, in which levity is often
more prominent than gravity. (4) _Comedias de costumbres_, in which the
chief personages are from the lower classes and of which the language is
even lascivious and the subject treated with a liberty not encountered
in other dramas of the author. To these various classes must be added
the _Autos sacramentales_, which were written to be represented on
occasions of religious festivals. Their theme is usually popular, even
grotesque, and the representation took place in the streets.

Lope de Vega took the Spanish drama as he found it, and from its better
qualities he built the national drama. He knew the unities and ignored
them in his works, preferring, as he says, to give the people what they
wished, and he laid down precepts for composition, but even these he
obeyed indifferently. Always clever, he interpreted the popular will and
gratified it. He did not make the Spanish drama so much as he permitted
it to be made in and through him, and by so doing he reconciled all
classes to himself; he was as popular with the erudite as he was with
the masses, for his plays have a variety, facility, and poetic beauty
that won the favor of all. His works abound in the inaccuracies and
obscurities that characterize hasty composition and hastier
proof-reading, but these are forgotten in the clever intrigue which is
the keynote of the Spanish drama, in the infinite variety of
versification and in the constant and never flagging interest. For over
fifty years Lope de Vega enriched the Spanish drama with the wonders of
his genius, yet from _El Verdadero Amante_, certainly in its original
form one of his earliest plays now in existence, to _Las Bizarrías de
Belisa_, written the year before his death, we find a uniformity of
vigor, resourcefulness and imagination that form a lasting monument to
his versatility and powers of invention, and amply justify his titles of
"Fénix de los ingenios" and "Monstruo de la naturaleza."


III. LA MOZA DE CÁNTARO

This interesting _comedia_ was written in the last decade of the life of
Lope de Vega, in the most fertile period of his genius. Hartzenbusch is
authority for the statement that it was written towards the close of the
year 1625 and revised in 1632.[5] It is evident that the closing lines
of it were written in 1632, for the author says in the _Égloga á
Claudio_ that he had completed that year fifteen hundred comedias. As
evidence of its popularity, we have the following resumé and
appreciation from the same critic in the _prólogo_ of his edition of
_Comedias Escogidas de Lope de Vega_: «Iba cayendo el sol, y acercábase
á la peripecia última, precursora del desenlace, una comedia que en un
teatro de Madrid (ó _corral_, como solía entonces decirse) representaban
cuatro galanes, dos damas, un barba, dos graciosos, dos graciosas y
otros actores de clase inferior, ante una porción de espectadores, con
sombrero calado, como quienes encima de sí no tenían otra techumbre que
la del cielo. Ya la primera dama había hecho su postrera salida con el
más rico traje de su vestuario: absorto su amante del señoril porte de
aquella mujer, que, siendo una humilde criada, sabía, sin embargo, el
pomposo guardainfante, como si en toda su vida no hubiese arrastrado
otras faldas; ciego de pasión y atropellando los respetos debidos á su
linaje, se había llegado á ella, y asiéndole fuera de sí la mano, le
había ofrecido la suya. El galán segundo se había opuesto resueltamente
á la irregular y precipitada boda; pero al oir que la supuesta Isabel
tenía por verdadero nombre el ilustre de doña María Guzmán y
Portocarrero, y era, aunque _moza de cántaro_ parienta del duque de
Medina, su resistencia había desaparecido. Hecha pues una gran
reverencia muda á la novia, se adelantó el actor á la orilla del tablado
para dirigir esta breve alocución al público:

                      Aquí
      Puso fin á esta comedia
      Quien, si perdiere este pleito,
      Apela á _Mil y Quinientas_.
      MIL Y QUINIENTAS ha escrito:
      Bien es que perdón merezca.

[Note 5: I have not been able to verify on what foundation
Hartzenbusch bases the statement that the play was written first in
1625. It is true that several historical events which took place about
that year are alluded to in the work in a way to indicate that they were
fresh in the mind of the author, but they do not offer conclusive proof.
It does not appear in the twenty-five _Partes_ or collections of Lope's
dramas, and it is doubtful if it was published in any regular edition
during the poet's life. In a note, Act II, Scene III, Hartzenbusch
mentions "la edición antigua de la comedia," but does not specify to
what edition he refers. The play appears in _Comedias de Diferentes
Autores_, Vol. XXXVII, Valencia, 1646, but it is not certain or even
probable that this is the first time it was published.]

De las gradas y barandillas, de las ventanas y desvanes, de todos los
asientos, pero principalmente de los que llenaban el patio, hubo de
salir entonces, entre ruidosas palmadas, un grito unánime de admiración,
de entusiasmo y orgullo nacional justísimo. «¡Vítor, Lope!» clamaba
aquella alborazada multitud una vez y otra; «¡Viva _el Fénix de los
ingenios_! ¡Viva Lope de Vega!»[6] And in no less laudatory terms, Elías
Zerolo says: "En ella,... agotó Lope todos los sentimientos resortes
propios de su teatro... Esta comedia es una de las más perfectas de
Lope, por lo que alcanzó en su tiempo un éxito ruidoso." In enumerating
the plays of Lope which were still well known and represented in Spain
in the nineteenth century, Gil de Zárate names _La Moza de Cántaro_
among the first,[7] and doubtless on this authority Ticknor speaks of it
as one of the plays of Lope which "have continued to be favorites down
to our own times."[8]

[Note 6: The sun was setting and a _comedia_ was approaching its
last phase, precursor of the denouement. It was presented in a theater
of Madrid (or _corral_ as it was then called) by four gallants, two
ladies, an old man, two _graciosos_, two _graciosas_, and other minor
characters, before an audience with hats pulled down as those who had no
other roof above them than that of heaven. Already the leading lady had
made her last entry, decked in the richest costume of her wardrobe; her
lover, absorbed by the noble bearing of that woman who, although a
humble servant, knew, nevertheless, the pompous farthingale as if in all
her life she had not worn any other style of skirt; blind with passion
and trampling on the respect due his lineage, had approached her and,
beside himself, seizing her hand, had offered her his. The second
gallant had resolutely opposed the irregular and hasty match, but on
hearing that the supposed Isabel bore as true name the illustrious one
of Doña María Guzmán y Portocarrero and was, although a water-maid, a
relative of the Duke of Medina, his resistance had vanished. Then with a
sweeping and silent bow to the fiancée the actor approached the front of
the stage to pronounce this brief address to the public:

                        Aquí
      Puso fin á esta comedia
      Quien, si perdiere este pleito,
      Apela á _Mil y Quinientas_.
      MIL Y QUINIENTAS ha escrito:
      Bien es que perdón merezca.

From the _gradas_ and _barandillas_, from the windows and _desvanes_,
from all the seats, but especially from those which filled the _patio_,
there must have gone forth then amid clamorous applause a unanimous
shout of admiration, of enthusiasm, and very just national pride.
"_¡Vítor, Lope!_" shrieked that tumultuous multitude time and again.
"Long live _el Fénix de los ingenios_! Long live Lope de Vega!"]

[Note 7: See _Comedias Escogidas_, Vol. I, p. xxviii, and Gassier,
_Le Théâtre Espagnol_, p. 60.]

[Note 8: Ticknor, _History of Spanish Literature_, Vol. II, p. 275.]

The "Watermaid" belongs to the largest class of Lope's plays--the class
in which he excelled--_comedias de capa y espada_. Ticknor erroneously
classes it as a comedy "founded on common life" or as styled by others
_comedia de costumbres_, but it is probable he did so without making
himself thoroughly familiar with the comedy in its full form. Zerolo is
very emphatic in attributing it to the class of _comedias de capa y
espada_, for he says: "Más que ninguna otra, reune esta obra las
circunstancias que caracterizan á las _comedias de capa y espada_, como
embozos, equívocos, etc." Were the leading character what her name
implies--a humble servant--and were the other characters of her rank,
the play might well be classed as a comedia de costumbres; but that it
belongs to the larger class is established by the fact that the intrigue
is complicated, the question of love and rank is prominent, and the
characters are of the nobility.[9] Any opposing irregularities in
language or action may be explained by the period represented, for the
time is that of the early years of the reign of the young monarch,
Philip IV, a brilliant though corrupt epoch of Spanish history well
worthy of a moment's notice.

[Note 9: The Ticknor collection in the Boston Public Library
contains two copies of the play; the one is entitled "La Moza de
Cántaro, comedia en cinco actos por Lope Félix de Vega Carpio y
refundida por Cándido María Trigueros, Valencia, 1803," and the other,
_idem_, "con anotaciones, Londres" (probably about 1820). These are
probably the only editions of the play with which Ticknor was familiar
when he made his classification of it, for certainly he could not
reconcile it with his definition of "comedies on common life," but he
could easily accord it with his definition of "comedias de capa y
espada." (See Ticknor's _History of Spanish Literature_, Vol. II, pp.
243 and 275.) Quoting from Lista's classification, Romualdo Alvarez
Espino says: "_Comedias de costumbres_ in which are painted vices of
certain persons who, since in that epoch they could not be represented
to be of the nobility, were drawn from the dregs of the people. Perhaps
his very object in these compositions drew Lope away from the culture
and urbanity which distinguish him in others; but fortunately they are
few. Let us mention as examples _El rufian Castrucho_, _La Moza de
Cántaro_, _El sabio en su casa_, _La doncella Teodor_." (Romualdo
Alvarez Espino, _Ensayo Histórico Crítico del Teatro Español_, p. 116.
See also, Alfred Gassier, _Le Théâtre Espagnol_, p. 38.) In the broader
sense of the term, _comedias de costumbres_ could easily include not
only the _Moza de Cántaro_ but generally all _comedias de capa y
espada_, for true comedy is the presentation of the customs of society
in a diverting manner. However, the Spanish critics usually narrow the
class to include only the dramas of Lope which deal with the lower
strata of social life and make the error of classing the _Moza de
Cántaro_ among them. This error may be explained by the fact that the
critics, especially those cited above, have probably referred directly
or indirectly to the _refundida_ edition of the play which makes
prominent the part of the servants and minimizes the rôles of the
masters.]

Philip III died in 1621, leaving the vast realm which he had inherited
from his father, the gloomy though mighty Philip II, to his son, a youth
of sixteen years, who came to the throne under the title of Philip IV.
If Philip III was ruled by Lerma and Uceda, Philip IV, in his turn, was
completely under the domination of the unprincipled Olivares, and his
accession initiated one of the most interesting and most corrupt reigns
that Spain has ever known. Philip himself was weak and pleasure-loving,
but has never been regarded as perverse, and Olivares was ambitious and
longed to rule Spain as the great Cardinal was ruling France. To achieve
this end he isolated the monarch from every possible rival and kept him
occupied with all sorts of diversions. At an early age Philip had been
married to Isabel de Bourbon, daughter of Henry IV of France, and she
was an unconscious tool in the hands of Olivares, for she was as light
and as fond of pleasures as the king. Trivial incidents in royal circles
were sufficient excuse to provide the most lavish celebrations and
expenditures, illy authorized by the depleted condition of the royal
exchequer. The external conditions of the kingdom were momentarily
favorable for such a period as that through which the country was
passing, for Spain was at peace with all the world. The Netherlands and
other continental possessions were placated by concessions or
temporarily quieted by truces, and the American possessions were
prosperous and contributed an enormous toll of wealth to the
mother-country. Madrid, with all its unsightliness, was one of the most
brilliant courts of Europe and attracted to itself the most gifted
subjects of the realm. Encouraged by the king's love of art and letters,
the great painters like Velázquez and Ribera vied with each other in
creating masterpieces for princely patrons, and great authors like Lope,
Quevedo, and Calderón sharpened their wits to please a literary public.
This cosmopolitan society furnished abundant food for observation and an
inexhaustible supply of interesting personages for the dramatist.

Since Lope de Vega had no classic rules to observe and was limited in
his composition only by popular tastes, he could without offense take
his characters from whatever class of society he wished so long as his
choice was pleasing to the audience, which, it happens, was not easily
offended. Like Shakespeare, he brings upon the stage illiterate servants
to mix their rude speech and often questionable jests with the grave
and lofty or poetic utterances of their noble or royal masters. His
characters, too, were not limited to any fixed line of conduct, as long
as honor was upheld. They could be creatures of passion or impulse who
gave expression to the most violent or romantic sentiments, mingling
laughter and tears with all the artlessness of children. Therefore we
may expect the most divergent interests and the most complex
combinations of aims and actions of which the popular reason is capable
of conceiving.

On the Spanish stage, woman had always had a secondary rôle, not only
because she was not fully appreciated, but also because the rôle was
usually taken by boys, for women were long prohibited from the stage.
"Lope, the expert in gallantry, in manners, in observation, placed her
in her true setting, as an ideal, as the mainspring of dramatic motive
and of chivalrous conduct."[10] Doña María is a type of Spanish woman of
which history furnishes numerous parallels. Her family name had suffered
disgrace and her own father was crying out for an avenger; there was no
one else to take up the task, she eagerly took it upon herself and
punished her suitor with the death she thought he deserved. Then to
escape arrest she fled in the guise of a servant girl, which was in fact
a very natural one for her to assume, for even at the present time no
high-born young Spanish woman would dare to travel unattended and
undisguised through her native land; besides, to do so would have
revealed her identity. Once located in the capital, she becomes an
ideal Spanish servant girl, performing well the duties imposed upon her,
gossiping with those of her assumed class, breaking the heads of those
who sought to molest her, usually gay and loquacious, but, when
offended, impudent and malicious. That she does things unbecoming of her
true rank only shows how well she carries out her assumed rôle; that she
was not offensive or contrary to Spanish tastes of the times is proved
by the fact that, although she was a Guzmán and consequently a relative
of the ruling favorite, Olivares, the play did not fall under royal
censure. Her versatility and just claim to her high position are
emphasized by the ease with which she assumes her own rank at the close
of the play.

[Note 10: Fitzmaurice-Kelly, _Spanish Literature_, p. 257.]

Don Juan, the hero of the play, while he pales somewhat before the
brilliant, protagonistic rôle of the heroine, represents on a lesser
plane Lope's conception of the true Spanish gallant, whom the poet often
pictures under this name or that of "Fernando" and not infrequently lets
his personality show through even to the extent of revealing interesting
autobiographical details.[11] That Lope did not approve entirely of the
higher social life of his time is brought out all through the play and
revealed in the hero, for the contemporaries and friends of the latter
considered him an _original_. But in him we find more nearly the common
Spanish conception of chivalry and honor.

[Note 11: In his _Dorotea_ the character Fernando is known to
present an authentic biographical account of the author's youth and
early manhood, while others of his heroes, as Don Juan in _el Premio de
bien hablar_, furnish unmistakable details.]

Breathing his love in poetic musings, eating out his own heart in
sleepless nights and in anxious waitings for his lady-love by the
fountain in the Prado or at the _lavaderos_ along the banks of the
Manzanares, refusing wealth and spurning position gained at the price of
his love, preserving an unrivaled fidelity to his friend and kinsman,
but finally consenting to sacrifice his love for the honor of his name
and family, Don Juan is the embodiment of Spanish chivalry of all ages.
That the poet makes him love one apparently on a lower social plane
illustrates his power of discrimination and magnifies these virtues
rather than diminishes them.

Don Bernardo, of whom we see but little, recalls don Diègue of
Corneille, to whom he is directly related, for Guillén de Castro is a
worthy disciple of Lope de Vega and wrote many plays, including _las
Mocedades del Cid_, in his manner, and Corneille's indebtedness to the
former is too well known to need explanation. More violent than Don
Diègue, who is restrained by the decorum of the French classic theater,
more tearful than Don Diego of _las Mocedades_, who, after a passionate
soliloquy, rather coolly tests the valor of his sons, ending by biting
the finger of "el Cid," Don Bernardo appears first upon the stage in
tears and frequently, during the only scene in which he figures, gives
way to his grief. The comparison of the three is interesting, for all
three had suffered the same insult; but before we judge Don Bernardo too
hastily, we should consider that both the other two are making their
appeals to valiant men, while he is appealing to a woman, and not
appealing for vengeance as they, but rather lamenting his hard lot. Don
Diègue and Don Diego impress us by the gravity of their appeals, while
Don Bernardo arouses our sympathy by his senility--old Spanish cavalier,
decorated with the cross of Santiago, that he is!

If we make Don Juan the impersonation of Lope's idea of chivalry, we may
well interpret el Conde and Doña Ana as representing his appreciation of
his more sordid contemporaries; both are actuated by motives of interest
and are not scrupulous enough to conceal it. The poet is far too
discreet to hold either up to ridicule, yet he makes each suffer a keen
rebuff. Both are given sufficient elements of good to dismiss them at
the close with the partial realization of their desires.

One character particularly local to Spanish literature is the _Indiano_.
In general usage the term is applied to those who enter Spain, coming
from the Latin-American countries, though properly it should include
perhaps only natives of the West Indies. Since an early date, however,
the term has been applied to Spaniards returning to the native land
after having made a fortune in the Americas. In the early years of the
seventeenth century, when the mines of Mexico and South America were
pouring forth their untold millions, these _Indianos_ were especially
numerous in the Spanish capital, and Lope de Vega, with his usual acute
perception ready to seize upon any theme popular with the public, gave
them a prominent place in his works. Sometimes they appear as scions of
illustrious lineage, as Don Fernando and the father of Elena in _la
Esclava de su Galán_, and again they figure as the object of the poet's
contempt, as the wealthy merchant, Don Bela, in _la Dorotea_. In the
present instance the _Indiano_ is a bigoted, miserly fellow who seeks,
at the least possible cost, position at the Spanish court and who
employs doña María largely for motives of interest rather than through
sympathy for her poverty-stricken condition. Later, at Madrid, he
exhibits himself in a still more unfavorable light, and ends by driving
her from his service, of which incident she gives a highly entertaining,
though little edifying, narration.

The last characters in the play who need occupy our attention are Martín
and Pedro, the _graciosos_. This very Spanish personage dates, in idea,
back to the servants of the _Celestina_ and to the _simple_ of Torres
Naharro, but in the hands of Lope he is so developed and so omnipresent
that he is justly accredited as a creation of the great "Fénix."[12]
Martín, the clever but impudent servant, is the leading character in
the secondary plot and the only one to whom prominence is given. He acts
as a news-gatherer for his master and, while thus occupied, he falls in
love with Leonor, who does not seem to prove for him a difficult
conquest. With characteristic Spanish liberty he advises his masters
freely and is generally heeded and mixes in everything his comments,
which, while not always free from suggestiveness, are filled with a
contagious levity. Pedro, the lackey suitor of doña María, known to him
as Isabel, is the prototype of the modern "chulo" whose traits can be
traced in his every word and action. Disappointed in his love-making, he
loses none of his characteristics of braggadocio and willingly assumes
the rôle of defender of Isabel although he himself has been maltreated
by the bellicose "moza de cántaro."

[Note 12: One can scarcely say that the character is purely Spanish in
origin, for servants had long been given a prominent part in dramas.
Without seeking further we may well recall the place they have in the
works of both Plautus and Terence. The early Italian comedies inherit
this character from the Latins, and it appears in most of the plays of
Ariosto, Machiavelli, and Aretino. It is found in the early Spanish
dramas, and the debt to Italy is unmistakable; for example, in _La
Celestina_ the name of one of the leading servant
characters--Parmeno--is the same as appears in the three plays of
Terence: _Eunuchus_, _Adelphi_, and _Hecyra_. And in the hands of Rojas
and Naharro the type is not markedly different from the Latin and
Italian originals. It remained for Lope to perfect it and make it truly
national.]

Untrammeled by the unities or other dramatic conventionalities, Lope was
able in this drama, as in his others, to permit the action to develop
naturally and simply with the various vicissitudes attendant upon
every-day life and yet to weave the intricate threads of intrigue into a
complex maze perfect in detail. The leading character is introduced in
the first scene, which is followed by the long exposition of attendant
circumstances that could be as well narrated as produced upon the stage.
Thus delay and harrowing detail are avoided. The introduction of the
tragic element into the play early in the first act has a tendency to
soften its effect, especially as it has little relation to the
subsequent action. However, the mere introduction of it in the play
would probably, in the early French theater, class the drama as a
tragi-comedy. And Alexandre Hardy, the French playwright and
contemporary of Lope de Vega, who borrowed largely from the latter both
in method and detail, so styled many of his works. The scene, opening in
historic Ronda in the midst of the places made famous by the mighty
family of the Guzmáns, then moving north to an obscure town in the
Sierra-Morena, little known to the cultured atmosphere in which the play
was to be represented, and finally centering in the capital and
developing under the very eye of the audience, as it were, just as so
many tragedies and comedies, less important perhaps but no less
interesting, unfold in daily life about us, gives the play a broader
interest than it would have and doubtless contributed powerfully to its
success. The introduction of the secondary plot, affording the excuse
for the prominent place given to the _gracioso_, is a device which Lope,
like his great English contemporary, often uses as in this case with
good effect. The disguising of a lady of the highest nobility and making
her play so well the part of the lowly water-maid furnish the key to the
intrigue and would not detract from the play in the eyes of the
contemporary, following upon the reign of the pastoral and according as
it did with the tastes of the times.[13]

[Note 13: Philip IV's passion for the theater was so great that he
himself, Martin Hume tells us, appeared in private theatricals upon the
stage in roles that scarcely did credit to his lofty station. Of the
young queen, Isabel de Bourbon, who may be considered as well
representing contemporary tastes, the same author says: "Not only was
she an ardent lover of the bullfight, but she would in the palace or
public theaters countenance amusements which would now be considered
coarse. Quarrels and fights between country wenches would be incited for
her to witness unsuspected; nocturnal tumults would be provoked for her
amusement in the gardens of Aranjuez or other palaces; and it is related
that, when she was in one of the grated _aposentos_ of a public theater,
snakes or noxious reptiles would be secretly let loose upon the floor or
in the _cazuela_, to the confusion and alarm of the spectators, whilst
the gay, red-cheeked young Queen would almost laugh herself into fits to
see the stampede." Martin Hume, _The Court of Philip IV_, pp. 149 and
203.]

Unlike Shakespeare, whose rare good fortune it was to establish a
language as well as found a national drama, Lope de Vega took up a
language which had been in use and which had served as a medium of
literary expression many centuries before he was born, and with it
established the Spanish drama. Here again Lope conformed to common
usage. He knew of the elegant conceits of linguistic expression and used
them sparingly in his plays, but usually his language was, like the
ideas which he expressed, the speech of the public which he sought to
please, not slighting the grandiloquent phraseology to which the Spanish
language is so well adapted. We find a good example of these different
elements in _La Moza de Cántaro_ in the three sonnets of Act II, Scene
III, of which the first is in the sonorous, high-sounding, oratorical
style, the second, in the elegant conceits so common in Italian
literature of the period, and the third in the language of every-day
life. Each is well suited to the occasion and to the rôle of the
speaker. Seldom in any of his works, and never in _La Moza de Cántaro_,
does Lope descend to dialect or to slang, but rather in the pure
Castilian of his time, preferably in the Castilian of the masses, he
composes his rhythmic verses. Like some mountain stream his measures
flow, sometimes in idle prattle over pebbly beds, soon to change into
the majestic cascade, then to the whirling rapids, only to tarry soon in
the quiet pool to muse in long soliloquy, to rush on again, sullen,
quarrelsome, vehemently protesting in hoarse and discordant murmurings,
then to roll out into the bright sunshine and there to sing in lyric
accents of love and beauty. So the style like the action never settles
in dull monotony, which, be it ever so beautiful, ends by wearying the
audience. The great master put diversion into every thought and filled
the listener with rapture by the versatility and beauty of his
inimitable style.

One of the secrets of Lope's influence over his contemporaries is to be
found in his versification. Ticknor says that no meter of which the
language was susceptible escaped him. And in his dramatic composition we
find as much variety in this respect as in any other. In _el Arte nuevo
de hacer Comedias_, he says: "The versification should be carefully
accommodated to the subject treated. The _décimas_ are suited for
complaints; the sonnet is fitting for those who are in expectation; the
narrations require _romances_, although they shine most brilliantly in
octaves; tercets are suitable for matters grave, and for love-scenes the
_redondilla_ is the fitting measure."[14] These various rimes, except
the tercet, are found in _La Moza de Cántaro_, but in this rule, as in
others which he prescribes, Lope does not follow his own precepts. The
_redondilla_ is far more common than any other, though the _romance_ is
frequently used. Most of the plays of Lope contain sonnets, and they
vary in number from one to five or even seven: in the present instance
we have the medium of three. The _décima_ is used in four passages and
the _octava_ in two.[15] The widely varied scheme of versification is as
follows:


ACT I

      1-176 Redondillas
      177-260 Romances.
      261-296 Redondillas.
      297-372 Romances.
      373-704 Redondillas.
      705-744 Décimas.
      745-824 Redondillas.
      825-914 Romances.

[Note 14: _Obras Sueltas_, Vol. IV, p. 415.]

[Note 15: While this is not the place to treat in detail with
Spanish versification, it may be well to define briefly the forms used
in the play which are not met with in English. The _redondilla_ is
composed of four verses of seven or eight syllables each, the first
verse riming with the fourth and the second with the third. The
_romance_ is composed of any number of seven or eight syllable verses,
in the even numbers of which there is a correspondence of vowel sounds
in the last two syllables, which is called _assonance_. The _décima_
consists of ten octosyllabic verses, of which generally the first rimes
with the fourth and fifth, the second with the third, the sixth with the
seventh and tenth, and the eighth with the ninth. The _octava_ has eight
hendecasyllabic verses of which the first rimes with the third and
fifth, the second with the fourth and sixth, and the seventh with the
eighth.]


ACT II

      915-1062 Redondillas.
      1063-1076 Soneto.
      1077-1088 Redondillas.
      1089-1102 Soneto.
      1103-1106 Redondilla.
      1107-1120 Soneto.
      1121-1236 Redondillas.
      1237-1280 Décimas.
      1281-1452 Romances.
      1453-1668 Redondillas.
      1669-1788 Romances.
      1789-1836 Redondillas.


ACT III

      1837-1896 Redondillas.
      1897-1984 Octavas.
      1985-2052 Redondillas.
      2053-2112 Décimas.
      2113-2226 Romances.
      2227-2374 Redondillas.
      2375-2422 Octavas.
      2423-2478 Redondillas.
      2479-2558 Décimas.
      2562-2693 Romances.




BIBLIOGRAPHY


_Biblioteca de Autores Españoles_ desde la formación del lenguaje hasta
nuestros días, 71 vols., Madrid, 1849-1880. The references to this
extensive work are usually made by means of the titles of the separate
volumes. Particularly is this true of the references to the dramas of
Lope de Vega, which, under the title of _Comedias Escogidas de Lope de
Vega_, include volumes 24, 34, 41, 52 of the work.

_Obras Escogidas de Frey Lope Félix de Vega Carpio_, con prólogo y notas
por Elías Zerolo, Paris, 1886, Vol. III.

_La Moza de Cántaro_, Comedia en cinco actos por Lope Félix de Vega
Carpio y refundida por Don Cándido María Trigueros, Valencia, 1803.

_La Moza de Cántaro_, Comedia en cinco actos por Lope Félix de Vega
Carpio y refundida por Don Cándido María Trigueros, con anotaciones,
Londres (about 1820).

_Obras Sueltas de Lope de Vega_, colección de las obras sueltas, assi en
prosa, como en verso, 21 vols., Madrid, 1776-1779.

_Handbuch der Spanischen Litteratur_, von Ludwig Lemcke, 3 vols.,
Leipzig, 1855.

_Diccionario Enciclopédico hispano-americano_ de literatura, ciencias y
artes, 26 vols., Barcelona, 1887-1899.

_Grand Dictionnaire Universel_, par Pierre Larousse, 17 vols., Paris.

_Manual elemental de gramática histórica española_, por R. Menéndez
Pidal, Madrid, 1905.


FITZMAURICE-KELLY, _A History of Spanish Literature_, New York and
London, 1898.

TICKNOR, _History of Spanish Literature_, 3 vols., 5th ed., Boston,
1882.

ESPINO, _Ensayo histórico-crítico del Teatro español_, Cádiz, 1876.

J. A. SYMONDS, _Renaissance in Italy_, 2 vols., New York, 1888.

A. GASSIER, _Le Théâtre Espagnol_, Paris, 1898.

H. A. RENNERT, _The Life of Lope de Vega_, Glasgow, 1904.

HAVELOCK ELLIS, _The Soul of Spain_, Boston, 1909.

MARTIN HUME, _The Court of Philip IV_, London, 1907.

NOTE.--The last three works mentioned are especially recommended for
collateral reading in the study of _La Moza de Cántaro_.




LA MOZA DE CÁNTARO




PERSONAS


      EL CONDE  }
      DON JUAN  } _galanes_
      DON DIEGO }
      FULGENCIO }

      DON BERNARDO, _viejo_

      PEDRO  }
      MARTÍN } _lacayos_
      LORENZO}
      BERNAL }

      DOÑA MARÍA, _dama_

      DOÑA ANA, _viuda_

      LÜISA }
      LEONOR} _criadas_
      JUANA }

      UN ALCAIDE

      UN INDIANO

      UN MESONERO

      UN MOZO DE MULAS

      MÚSICOS.--LACAYOS

      ACOMPAÑAMIENTO

_La escena es en Ronda, en Adamuz y Madrid_



   ACTO PRIMERO

   Sala en casa de don Bernardo, en Ronda.




   ESCENA PRIMERA

   DOÑA MARÍA _y_ LÜISA, _con unos papeles_


   LUISA

   Es cosa lo que ha pasado
   Para morirse de risa.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Tantos papeles, Lüisa,
   Esos Narcisos te han dado?

   LUISA

   ¿Lo que miras dificultas?                                           5

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¡Bravo amor, brava fineza!

   LUISA

   No sé si te llame alteza
   Para darte estas consultas.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Á señoría te inclina,
   Pues entre otras partes graves,                                    10
   Tengo deudo, como sabes,
   Con el duque de Medina.

   LUISA

   Es título la belleza
   Tan alto, que te podría
   Llamar muy bien señoría,                                           15
   Y aspirar, Señora, á alteza.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¡Lindamente me conoces!
   Dasme por la vanidad.

   LUISA

   No es lisonja la verdad,
   Ni las digo, así te goces.                                         20
   No hay en Ronda ni en Sevilla
   Dama como tú.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Yo creo,
   Lüisa, tu buen deseo.

   LUISA

   Tu gusto me maravilla.
   Á ninguno quieres bien.                                            25

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Todos me parecen mal.

   LUISA

   Arrogancia natural
   Te obliga á tanto desdén.--
   Éste es de don Luis.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Lo leo
   Sólo por cumplir contigo.                                          30

   LUISA

   Yo soy de su amor testigo.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Y yo de que es necio y feo.

   (_Lee._) «Considerando conmigo á solas,
   señora doña María...»

   No leo. (_Rompe el papel._)

   LUISA

   ¿Por qué?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿No ves
   Que comienza alguna historia,
   Ó que quiere en la memoria                                         35
   De la muerte hablar después?

   LUISA

   Éste es de don Pedro.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Muestra.

   LUISA

   Yo te aseguro que es tal,
   Que no te parezca mal.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¡Bravos rasgos! ¡Pluma diestra!                                    40

   (_Lee._) «Con hermoso, si bien severo,
   no dulce, apacible sí rostro, señora
   mía, mentida vista me miró vuestro
   desdén, absorto de toda humanidad, rígido
   empero, y no con lo brillante solícito,
   que de candor celeste clarifica vuestra
   faz, la hebdómada pasada.»

   ¿Qué receta es ésta, di? (_Rómpele_.)
   Qué médico te la dió?

   LUISA

   Pues ¿no entiendes culto?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Yo?
   ¿Habla de aciértame aquí?

   LUISA

   Hazte boba, por tu vida.                                           45
   ¿Puede nadie ser discreto
   Sin que envuelva su conceto
   En invención tan lucida?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Ésta es lucida invención?
   Ahora bien, ¿hay más papel?                                        50

   LUISA

   El de don Diego, que en él
   Se cifra la discreción.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   (_Lee._) «Si yo fuera tan dichoso como
   vuestra merced hermosa, hecho estaba
   el partido.»

   ¿Qué es partido? No prosigo. (_Rómpele._)

   LUISA

   ¿Qué nada te ha de agradar?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Pienso que quiere jugar                                            55
   Á la pelota conmigo.
   Lüisa, en resolución,
   Yo no tengo de querer
   Hombre humano.

   LUISA

   ¿Qué has de hacer,
   Si todos como éstos son?                                           60

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Estarme sola en mi casa.
   Venga de Flandes mi hermano,
   Pues siendo tan rico, en vano
   Penas inútiles pasa.
   Cásese, y déjeme á mí                                              65
   Mi padre; que yo no veo
   Dónde aplique mi deseo
   De cuantos andan aquí,
   Codiciosos de su hacienda;
   Que, si va á decir verdad,                                         70
   No quiere mi vanidad
   Que cosa indigna le ofenda.
   Nací con esta arrogancia.
   No me puedo sujetar,
   Si es sujetarse el casar.                                          75

   LUISA

   Hombres de mucha importancia
   Te pretenden.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Ya te digo
   Que ninguno es para mí.

   LUISA

   Pues ¿has de vivir ansí?
   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Tan mal estaré conmigo?                                           80
   Joyas y galas ¿no son
   Los polos de las mujeres?
   Si á mí me sobran, ¿qué quieres?

   LUISA

   ¡Qué terrible condición!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Necia estás. No he de casarme.                                     85

   LUISA

   Si tu padre ha dado el sí,
   ¿Qué piensas hacer de ti?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Puede mi padre obligarme
   Á casar sin voluntad?

   LUISA

   Ni tú tomarte licencia                                             90
   Para tanta inobediencia.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   La primera necedad
   Dicen que no es de temer,
   Sino las que van tras ella,
   Pretendiendo deshacella.                                           95

   LUISA

   Los padres obedecer
   Es mandamiento de Dios.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Ya llegas á predicarme?

   LUISA

   Nuño acaba de avisarme
   Que estaban juntos los dos...                                     100

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Quién?

   LUISA

   Mi señor y don Diego.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Qué importa que hablando estén,
   Si no me parece bien,
   Y le desengaño luego?

   LUISA

   Y don Luis ¿no es muy galán?                                      105

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Tal salud tengas, Lüisa.
   Muchas se casan aprisa,
   Que á llorar despacio van.

   LUISA

   Ésa es dicha, y no elección;
   Que mirado y escogido                                             110
   Salió malo algún marido,
   Y otros sin ver, no lo son.
   Que si son por condiciones
   Los hombres buenos ó malos,
   Muchas que esperan regalos,                                       115
   Encuentran malas razones.
   Pero en don Pedro no creo
   Que haya más que desear.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Sí hay, Lüisa...

   LUISA

   ¿Qué?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No hallar
   Á mi lado hombre tan feo.                                         120

   LUISA

   Mil bienes me dicen dél,
   Y tú sola dél te ríes.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Lüisa, no me porfíes;
   Que éste es don Pedro el Cruel.

   LUISA

   Tu desdén me maravilla.                                           125

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Pues ten por cierta verdad
   Que es rey de la necedad,
   Como el otro de Castilla.

   LUISA

   Don Diego está confiado;
   Joyas te ha hecho famosas.                                        130

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Joyas?

   LUISA

   Y galas costosas;
   Hasta coche te ha comprado.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Don Diego de noche y coche.

   LUISA

   ¡De noche un gran caballero!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Mas ¡ay Dios! que no le quiero                                    135
   Para don Diego de noche.
   Otra le goce, Lüisa,
   No yo. ¡De noche visiones!

   LUISA

   Oigo unas tristes razones.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Volvióse en llanto la risa.                                       140
   ¿No es éste mi padre?

   LUISA

   Él es.




   ESCENA II

   DON BERNARDO, _de hábito de Santiago, con un lienzo en los
   ojos_.--DICHAS


   DON BERNARDO

   ¡Ay de mí!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Señor, ¿qué es esto?
   Vos llorando y descompuesto,
   ¡Y yo no estoy á esos pies!
   ¿Qué tenéis, padre y señor,                                       145
   Mi solo y único bien?

   DON BERNARDO

   Vergüenza de que me ven
   Venir vivo y sin honor.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Cómo sin honor?

   DON BERNARDO

   No sé.
   Déjame, por Dios, María.                                          150

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Siendo vos vida en la mía,
   ¿Cómo dejaros podré?
   ¿Habéis acaso caído?
   Que los años muchos son.

   DON BERNARDO

   Cayó toda la opinión                                              155
   Y nobleza que he tenido.
   No es de los hombres llorar;
   Pero lloro un hijo mío
   Que está en Flandes, de quien fío
   Que me supiera vengar.                                            160
   Siendo hombre, llorar me agrada;
   Porque los viejos, María,
   Somos niños desde el día
   Que nos quitamos la espada.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Sin color, y el alma en calma,                                    165
   Os oigo, padre y señor;
   Mas ¿qué mucho sin color,
   Si ya me tenéis sin alma?
   ¿Qué había de hacer mi hermano?
   ¿De quién os ha de vengar?                                        170

   DON BERNARDO

   Hija, ¿quiéresme dejar?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Porfías, Señor, en vano.
   Antes de llorar se causa
   La excusa, pero no agora;
   Que siempre quiere el que llora                                   175
   Que le pregunten la causa.

   DON BERNARDO

   Don Diego me habló, María...
   Contigo casarse intenta...
   Respondíle que tu gusto
   Era la primer licencia,                                           180
   Y la segunda del Duque.
   Escribí, fué la respuesta
   No como yo la esperaba;
   Que darte dueño quisieran
   Estas canas, que me avisan                                        185
   De que ya mi fin se cerca.
   Puse la carta en el pecho,
   Lugar que es bien que le deba;
   Que llamarme deudo el Duque
   Fué de esta cruz encomienda.                                      190
   Vino á buscarme don Diego
   Á la Plaza (¡nunca fuera
   Esta mañana á la Plaza!),
   Y con humilde apariencia
   Me preguntó si tenía                                              195
   (Aunque con alguna pena)
   Carta de Sanlúcar. Yo
   Le respondí que tuviera
   Á dicha poder servirle:
   Breve y bastante respuesta.                                       200
   Dijo que el Duque sabía
   Su calidad y nobleza;
   Que le enseñase la carta,
   Ó que era mía la afrenta
   De la disculpa engañosa.                                          205
   Yo, por quitar la sospecha,
   Saqué la carta del pecho,
   Y turbado leyó en ella
   Estas razones, María.--
   Quien tal mostró, que tal tenga.--                                210

   «Muy honrado caballero
   Es don Diego; pero sea
   El que ha de ser vuestro yerno
   Tal, que al hábito os suceda
   Como á vuestra noble casa.»                                       215

   Entonces don Diego, vuelta
   La color en nieve, dice,
   Y de ira y cólera tiembla:
   «Tan bueno soy como el Duque.»
   Yo con ira descompuesta                                           220
   Respondo: «Los escuderos,
   Aunque muy hidalgos sean,
   No hacen comparación
   Con los príncipes; que es necia.
   Desdecíos, ó le escribo                                           225
   Á don Alonso que venga
   Desde Flandes á mataros.»
   Aquí su mano soberbia...
   Pero prosigan mis ojos
   Lo que no puede la lengua.                                        230
   Déjame; que tantas veces
   Una afrenta se renueva,
   Cuantas el que la recibe
   Á el que la ignora la cuenta.
   Herrado traigo, María,                                            235
   El rostro con cinco letras,
   Esclavo soy de la infamia,
   Cautivo soy de la afrenta.
   El eco sonó en el alma;
   Que si es la cara la puerta,                                      240
   Han respondido los ojos,
   Viendo que llaman en ella.
   Alcé el báculo... Dijeron
   Que lo alcancé... no lo creas;
   Que mienten á el afrentado,                                       245
   Pensando que le consuelan.
   Prendióle allí la justicia,
   Y preso en la cárcel queda:
   ¡Pluguiera á Dios que la mano
   Desde hoy estuviera presa!                                        250
   ¡Ay, hijo del alma mía!
   ¡Ay, Alonso! ¡Si estuvieras
   En Ronda! Pero ¿qué digo?
   Mejor es que yo me pierda.
   Salid, lágrimas, salid...                                         255
   Mas no es posible que puedan
   Borrar afrentas del rostro,
   Porque son moldes de letras,
   Que aunque se aparta la mano,
   Quedan en al alma impresas. (_Vase._)                             260




   ESCENA III

   DOÑA MARÍA, LÜISA


   LUISA

   Fuése.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Déjame de suerte
   Que no pude responder.

   LUISA

   Vé tras él; que puede ser
   Que intente darse la muerte,
   Viendo perdido su honor.                                          265

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Bien dices: seguirle quiero;
   Que no es menester acero
   Adonde sobra el valor. (_Vanse._)




   ESCENA IV

   Cuarto en la cárcel de Ronda.

   DON DIEGO, FULGENCIO


   FULGENCIO

   La razón es un espejo
   De consejos y de avisos.                                          270

   DON DIEGO

   En los casos improvisos
   ¿Quién puede tomar consejo?

   FULGENCIO

   Los años de don Bernardo
   Os ponen culpa, don Diego.

   DON DIEGO

   Confieso que estuve ciego.                                        275

   FULGENCIO

   Es don Alonso gallardo
   Y gran soldado.

   DON DIEGO

   Ya es hecho,
   Y yo me sabré guardar.

   FULGENCIO

   Un consejo os quiero dar
   Para asegurar el pecho.                                           280

   DON DIEGO

   ¿Cómo?

   FULGENCIO

   Que dejéis á España
   Luego que salgáis de aquí.

   DON DIEGO

   ¿Á España, Fulgencio?

   FULGENCIO

   Sí;
   Porque será loca hazaña
   Que á don Alonso esperéis;                                        285
   Que, fuera de la razón
   Que él tiene en esta ocasión,
   Pocos amigos tendréis.
   Toda Ronda os pone culpa.

   DON DIEGO

   Claro está, soy desdichado...                                     290
   Pues el haberme afrentado
   Era bastante disculpa.

   FULGENCIO

   Mostraros la carta fué
   Yerro de un hombre mayor.

   DON DIEGO

   En los lances del honor                                           295
   ¿Quién hay que seguro esté?

   FULGENCIO

   El tiempo suele curar
   Las cosas irremediables.




   ESCENA V

   EL ALCAIDE DE LA CÁRCEL, _con barba y bastón_.--DICHOS


   ALCAIDE (_á don Diego_)

   Una mujer está aquí
   Que quiere hablaros.

   DON DIEGO

   Dejadme,                                                          300
   Fulgencio, si sois servido.

   FULGENCIO

   Á veros vendré á la tarde. (_Vase_.)

   ALCAIDE

   Llegó á la puerta cubierta;
   Pedíle que se destape,
   Y dijo que no quería.                                             305
   Parecióme de buen talle
   Y cosa segura; en fin,
   Gustó de que la acompañe
   Á vuestro aposento.

   DON DIEGO

   Que entre
   La decid, y perdonadme;                                           310
   Que es persona principal,
   Si es quien pienso.

   ALCAIDE

   En casos tales
   Se muestra el amor. (_Vase._)

   (_Dentro._ Entrad.)




   ESCENA VI

   DOÑA MARÍA, _cubierta con su manto_.--DON DIEGO.


   DON DIEGO

   ¡Sola, mi señora, á hablarme,
   Y en parte tan desigual                                           315
   De vuestra persona y traje!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Dan ocasión los sucesos
   Para desatinos tales.

   DON DIEGO

   Descubríos, por mi vida,
   Advirtiendo que no hay nadie                                      320
   Que aquí pueda conoceros.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Yo soy.

   DON DIEGO

   Pues ¡vos en la cárcel!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   El amor que me debéis
   Desta manera me trae;
   Que agradecida del vuestro,                                       325
   Me fuerza á que me declare.
   Á pediros perdón vengo,
   Y á que no pase adelante
   Este rigor, pues el medio
   De hacer estas amistades                                          330
   Es el casarnos los dos;
   Que cuando á saber alcance
   Don Alonso que soy vuestra,
   No tendrá de qué quejarse.
   Con esto venganzas cesan,                                         335
   Que suelen en las ciudades
   Engendrar bandos, de quien
   Tan tristes sucesos nacen.
   Vos quedaréis con la honra
   Que es justo y que Ronda sabe,                                    340
   Satisfecho el señor Duque,
   Desenojado mi padre,
   Y yo con tan buen marido,
   Que pueda mi casa honrarse
   Y don Alonso mi hermano.                                          345

   DON DIEGO

   ¿Quién pudiera sino un ángel,
   Señora doña María,
   Hacer tan presto las paces?
   Vuestro gran entendimiento,
   Y divino en esta parte,                                           350
   Ha dado el mejor remedio
   Que pudiera imaginarse.
   No le había más seguro,
   Y sobre seguro, fácil,
   Para que todos quedemos                                           355
   Honrados cuando me case.
   No será mucha licencia
   Que á el altar dichoso abrace,
   Sagrado de mis deseos,
   Donde está amor por imagen,                                       360
   Pues ya decís que sois mía.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Quien supo determinarse
   Á ser vuestra, no habrá cosa
   Que á vuestro gusto dilate.
   Confirmaré lo que digo                                            365
   Con los brazos.--Muere, infame.

   (_Al abrazarle, saca una daga y dale con
   ella._)

   DON DIEGO

   ¡Jesus! ¡Muerto soy! ¡Traición!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¡En canas tan venerables
   Pusiste la mano, perro!
   Pues estas hazañas hacen                                          370
   Las mujeres varoniles.
   Yo salgo.--¡Cielo, ayudadme! (_Vase._)




   ESCENA VII

   Fulgencio.--Don Diego, _moribundo_


   FULGENCIO

   Paréceme que he sentido
   Una voz, y que salió
   Esta mujer que aquí entró                                         375
   (Que no sin sospecha ha sido)
   Más turbada y descompuesta
   Que piden casos de amor.--
   No fué vano mi temor.
   ¡Don Diego!... ¿Qué sangre es ésta?                               380

   DON DIEGO

   Matóme doña María,
   La hija de don Bernardo.

   FULGENCIO

   ¡Alcaide! ¡Gente! ¿Qué aguardo?

   (_Ap._ Mas cosa injusta sería
   Ocasionar su prisión.                                             385
   Esperar que salga quiero;
   Que esto ya es hecho.)

   DON DIEGO

   Yo muero
   Con razón, aunque á traición.
   Muy justa venganza ha sido,
   Por fiarme de mujer.                                              390
   Mas no la dejéis prender.

   FULGENCIO

   Yo pienso que habrá salido.
   Pero ¿por qué no queréis
   Que la prendan?

   DON DIEGO

   Ha vengado
   Las canas de un padre honrado.                                    395
   Esto en viéndole diréis...
   Y que yo soy, cuanto á mí,
   Su yerno, pues se casó
   Conmigo, aunque me mató
   Cuando los brazos la dí.                                          400
   Con esto vuelvo á su fama
   Lo que afrentarla pudiera.

   FULGENCIO

   Toda la cárcel se altera.
   Quiero buscar esta dama.

   (_Se lleva á don Diego._)




   ESCENA VIII

   Una calle de Madrid.

   EL CONDE, DON JUAN


   CONDE

   ¡Hermosa viuda, don Juan!                                         405
   No he visto cosa más bella.

   DON JUAN

   Con razón, Conde, por ella
   Esos desmayos os dan.

   CONDE

   ¿Hay tal gracia de monjil?
   Que es de azabache, repara,                                       410
   Imagen, menos la cara
   Y manos, que son marfil.

   DON JUAN

   Vos tenéis un gran sugeto
   Para versos.

   CONDE

   No he pensado
   Meterme en ese cuidado;                                           415
   Que pienso andar más discreto.

   DON JUAN

   ¿Cómo?

   CONDE

   Remitirme á el oro,
   Que es excelente poeta.

   DON JUAN

   Dicen que es rica y discreta:
   Guardadle más el decoro.                                          420

   CONDE

   ¿Fué vuestro criado allá?

   DON JUAN

   Con una criada habló,
   Y á estas horas pienso yo
   Que bien informado está.

   CONDE

   Mejor entre sus iguales                                           425
   Suele hablar más libremente
   Este género de gente.




   ESCENA IX

   MARTÍN.--DICHOS


   DON JUAN

   ¿Qué hay, Martín? Contento sales.

   MARTÍN

   Servir á el Conde deseo.

   CONDE

   Yo estimo tu buen amor.                                           430

   MARTÍN

   Hablé con la tal Leonor,
   Como si fuera en mi empleo,
   Estando en larga oración
   La retórica lacaya,
   Y ella, á manera de maya,                                         435
   Serena toda facción.
   Díjela que me tenía
   Sin alma Leonor la bella;
   Que hacía un mes que la huella
   De sus chinelas seguía;                                           440
   Y que bailando en el río
   De la castañeta al son,
   Me entró por el corazón
   Y por toda el alma el brío.
   Cuando ya la tuve tierna,                                         445
   Pregunté la condición
   De su ama, y la razón
   De estado que la gobierna.
   Dijo que era principal,
   Con deudos de gran valor,                                         450
   Y que tenía su honor,
   Desde que enviudó, cabal.
   Que era rica y entendida,
   Y no de su casa escasa,
   Si bien no entraba en su casa                                     455
   Ni aun sombra de alma nacida.
   Que el parecer recatada
   Era todo su cuidado,
   Y díjome que había estado
   Sólo dos meses casada;                                            460
   Porque su noble marido,
   De enamorado, murió.

   CONDE

   No envidio la muerte yo,
   La causa sí.

   DON JUAN

   Necio ha sido,
   Pues tanto tiempo tenía.                                          465

   MARTÍN

   Poca edad y mucho amor,
   Toda la vida, Señor,
   Remiten á solo un día.

   CONDE

   ¿Cómo trae tan pequeñas
   Tocas?

   DON JUAN

   Más hermosa está.                                                 470

   MARTÍN

   Porque las largas son ya
   Para beatas y dueñas.
   Y las cortas en la corte
   No se traen sin ocasión.

   CONDE

   ¿Qué ocasión dará razón                                           475
   Que para disculpa importe?

   MARTÍN

   Muriósele á una casada
   Su marido, y no quedó
   Muy triste, pues le envolvió,
   Como si fuera pescada,                                            480
   En un pedazo de anjeo;
   Y sin que cumpliese manda,
   Con largas tocas de Holanda
   Salió vertiendo poleo
   En un reverendo coche.                                            485
   Pero el muerto, mal contento,
   Del sepulcro á su aposento
   Se trasladó aquella noche,
   Y díjole: «¡Vos Holanda,
   Y yo anjeo, picarona!                                             490
   ¿No mereció mi persona
   Una sábana más blanda?»
   Esto diciendo, el difunto
   En las tocas se envolvió,
   Y el anjeo le dejó:                                               495
   Ocasión desde aquel punto
   Con que sin tocas las veo;
   Y cuerdo temor ha sido,
   Porque no vuelva el marido
   Á dejarlas el anjeo.                                              500

   CONDE

   Cuanto la licencia alargas,
   La obligación disimulas.

   MARTÍN

   Señor, en dueñas y en mulas
   Están bien las tocas largas.

   CONDE

   Mucha honestidad promete,                                         505
   Y es decoro justo y santo.

   MARTÍN

   Una viuda con un manto
   Es obispo con roquete.
   Fuera de esto, aquel estar
   Siempre en una misma acción                                       510
   No mueve la inclinación
   Que el traje suele obligar.
   Ver siempre de una manera
   Á una mujer es cansarse.

   CONDE

   Pues ¿puede el rostro mudarse?                                    515

   MARTÍN

   Pues ¿no se muda y altera,
   Mudando el traje, el semblante?

   DON JUAN

   Conde, Martín dice bien;
   Porque el varïar tan bien
   Da novedad á el amante.                                           520

   MARTÍN

   De mi condición advierte
   Que me pudren las pinturas,
   Porque siempre las figuras
   Están de una misma suerte.
   ¿Qué es ver levantar la espada                                    525
   En una tapicería
   Á un hombre, que en todo un día
   No ha dado una cuchillada?
   Qué es ver á Susana estar
   Entre dos viejos desnuda,                                         530
   Y que ninguno se muda
   Á defender ni á forzar?
   Linda cosa es la mudanza
   Del traje.

   CONDE

   La viuda, en fin,
   ¿Es conversable, Martín?                                          535

   MARTÍN

   No me quitó la esperanza,
   Si entráis con algún enredo;
   Que dice que da lugar
   Que la puedan visitar.

   CONDE

   Yo le buscaré, si puedo.                                          540

   DON JUAN

   Como visto no te hubiera,
   Fácil remedio se hallara.

   CONDE

   Si en que me ha visto repara,
   Fingirme enojarla fuera.
   Llama; que yo he prevenido                                        545
   Con que me pueda creer.

   DON JUAN

   No lo echemos á perder.

   CONDE

   No puedo estar más perdido. (_Vanse._)




   ESCENA X

   _Sala en casa de doña Ana_.


   EL CONDE, DON JUAN, MARTÍN; _y luego_, DOÑA ANA, _de viuda_;
   LEONOR _y_ JUANA


   MARTÍN

   Ya te ha visto: á verte sale.
   No le has parecido mal.                                           550

   CONDE

   ¿Hay jazmín, rosa y cristal
   Que á la viudilla se iguale?

   (_Salen doña Ana, de viuda, Leonor y Juana._)

   DOÑA ANA

   Novedad me ha parecido;
   Vueseñoría perdone.

   CONDE

   No hay novedad que no abone                                       555
   El deseo que he tenido
   De serviros, si yo fuese,
   Para que no os cause enojos,
   Tan dichoso en vuestros ojos,
   Que serviros mereciese.                                           560

   DOÑA ANA

   Leonor, sillas.

   MARTÍN (_ap. á don Juan_)

   No va mal,
   Pues piden sillas.

   DON JUAN

   Martín,
   La viudilla es serafín
   De perlas y de coral.

   MARTÍN

   ¿Agrádate á ti también?                                           565

   DON JUAN

   Á esa pregunta responde
   Que está enamorado el Conde,
   Y yo no.

   MARTÍN

   Dices muy bien.

   DOÑA ANA

   ¿Quién es este caballero?

   CONDE

   Mi primo don Juan.

   DOÑA ANA

   Señor,                                                            570
   Perdonad.

   DON JUAN

   No ha sido error.
   Hablad; que estorbar no quiero.

   DOÑA ANA

   Vos no podéis estorbar,
   Ni aquí tendréis ocasión.

   DON JUAN

   No lo mandéis.

   DOÑA ANA

   Es razón.                                                         575

   DON JUAN

   No me tengo de sentar.

   DOÑA ANA

   Ahora bien, yo no porfío.

   DON JUAN

   Decísme que necio soy.

   CONDE

   Oidme.

   DOÑA ANA

   Oyéndoos estoy.

   DON JUAN

   Por lo mismo me desvío.                                           580

   CONDE

   Señora, aunque os he mirado
   Mil veces sin conoceros,
   Antes que viniera á veros
   Tuve de veros cuidado.
   Vuestro esposo, que Dios tiene,                                   585
   Era mi amigo: jugamos
   Una noche; comenzamos
   Por una rifa, que viene
   Á ser, como en los amores,
   La tercera que concierta,                                         590
   Ó á lo menos que dispierta
   El gusto á los jugadores.
   Perdió, picóse, sacó
   Unos escudos, y luego,
   Terciando mi primo el juego,                                      595
   Cuatro sortijas perdió.
   Mas vamos á lo que importa.

   DOÑA ANA

   Esas sortijas eché
   Menos: pesadumbre fué
   (Tan mal amor se reporta),                                        600
   Porque vine á sospechar
   Que á alguna dama las dió.

   DON JUAN (_ap. á Martín_)

   Bien la mentira salió.

   MARTÍN

   ¿Hay cosa como atinar
   Las sortijas que faltaron?                                        605

   DON JUAN

   Hay dichosos en mentir.

   MARTÍN

   Á cuantas supe decir,
   Con el hurto me pescaron.
   No he mentido sin que luego
   No se me echase de ver.                                           610

   CONDE

   Así se vino á encender
   Con esta pérdida el juego,
   Que perdió seis mil ducados
   Sobre palabra segura,
   De que tengo una escritura.                                       615

   DOÑA ANA

   Más enredos y cuidados
   Que días vivió conmigo
   Don Sebastián me dejó.
   ¿Seis mil ducados?

   CONDE

   Si yo
   Basto, que soy quien lo digo,                                     620
   Y los testigos presentes.

   MARTÍN

   Al firmarla estuve allí
   Tan presente como aquí.

   DON JUAN (_ap. á Martín_)

   ¡Con qué desvergüenza mientes!

   MARTÍN

   ¡Qué gracia! El buen mentidor                                     625
   Ha de ser, señor don Juan,
   Descarado á lo truhán,
   Y libre á lo historiador.

   DOÑA ANA

   Pensé que vueseñoría
   Me venía hacer merced.                                            630

   CONDE

   Que os he de servir creed;
   Que ésa fué la intención mía.
   No os dé pena la escritura,
   Puesto que fué de mayor;
   Que no tiene mal fiador                                           635
   La paga en vuestra hermosura.

   MARTÍN (_ap. á don Juan_)

   ¿Hay oficial de escritorios
   Que encaje el marfil ansí?

   DON JUAN

   En amando, para mí
   Son los engaños notorios.                                         640

   MARTÍN

   ¿Amor se funda en engaños?

   DON JUAN

   Primero que el amor fueron;
   Pues desde que ellos nacieron,
   El mundo cuenta sus daños.

   CONDE

   Si yo, Señora, creyera                                            645
   Cobrar la deuda de vos,
   Sin conocernos los dos,
   Por otro estilo pudiera.
   No vengo sino á ofreceros
   Cuanto tengo y cuanto soy,                                        650
   Con que pagado me voy,
   Y aun deudor de solo veros.
   Sólo os suplico me deis
   Licencia de visitaros,
   Si fuere parte á obligaros                                        655
   Confesar que me debéis,
   No dineros, sino amor.

   DOÑA ANA

   Yo quedo tan obligada,
   Como deudora y pagada
   De vuestro heroico valor.                                         660

   CONDE

   Bésoos las manos.

   DOÑA ANA

   El cielo
   Os guarde.

   CONDE

   ¿Vendré?

   DOÑA ANA

   Venid.

   (_Vase el Conde._)




   ESCENA XI

   DOÑA ANA, DON JUAN, LEONOR, JUANA, MARTÍN


   DOÑA ANA

   ¡Ah, señor don Juan! Oid.

   MARTÍN (_ap._)

   Cayó el pez en el anzuelo.

   DON JUAN

   ¿En qué os sirvo?

   DOÑA ANA

   Bien sé yo                                                        665
   Que todo aquesto es mentira.

   DON JUAN

   Y yo sé que el Conde os mira;
   Esto de la deuda no.

   DOÑA ANA

   ¡Mala entrada de galán,
   Entrar mintiendo!

   DON JUAN

   Señora,                                                           670
   Mi primo el Conde os adora.

   DOÑA ANA

   Id con Dios, señor don Juan;
   Que yerra el Conde en traeros.

   DON JUAN

   ¿Desacredítole yo?

   DOÑA ANA

   Cuando el Conde me miró,                                          675
   Me dió ocasión de quereros.

   DON JUAN

   Aunque deudos, nos preciamos
   Mucho más de ser amigos,
   Aunque envidias ni enemigos
   No quieren que lo seamos.                                         680
   Queredle bien; que merece,
   Señora, que lo queráis.

   DOÑA ANA

   Lo que por él negociáis,
   Al Conde desfavorece.

   DON JUAN

   Voy; que en la carroza aguarda.                                   685
   Dad licencia que os visite,
   Y que yo lo solicite.

   DOÑA ANA

   Si vuelve con vos, ya tarda.

   DON JUAN

   Tanto favor da á entender
   Que por él queréis honrarme.                                      690

   DOÑA ANA

   Por vos quiero yo obligarme
   Para que me vuelva á ver.

   DON JUAN

   Todo se lo digo ansí.

   DOÑA ANA

   Yo os tengo por más discreto.

   DON JUAN

   ¿Volverá el Conde en efeto?                                       695

   DOÑA ANA

   No sin vos, y con vos sí.

   (_Vanse don Juan y Martín._)




   ESCENA XII

   DOÑA ANA, LEONOR, JUANA


   LEONOR

   Mucho le has favorecido,
   Para ser la vez primera.

   DOÑA ANA

   Cuando él me favoreciera,
   Mi favor lo hubiera sido;                                         700
   Mas no me quiso entender:
   Tomo la amistad del Conde.

   JUANA

   Agora tibio responde.
   Aun no ha llegado á querer.

   DOÑA ANA (_para sí_)

   Necio pensamiento mío,                                            705
   Que en tal locura habéis dado,
   Volved atrás, afrentado
   De ver tan necio desvío.
   Yo, que de tantos me río,
   ¡Ruego, pretendo, provoco!                                        710
   Pensamiento, poco á poco,
   No diga el honor que pierdo
   Que sois con desdenes cuerdo,
   Ya que quisistes ser loco.
   Dieron los ojos en ver,                                           715
   Puesto que en lugar sagrado,
   Al hombre más recatado
   De mirar y de entender;
   Mas, ya que ha venido á ser
   Provocado á desafío,                                              720
   Responde tan necio y frío,
   Que me pide que á otro quiera:
   Mirad ¡quién tal os dijera,
   Triste pensamiento mío!
   En vano estoy descansando                                         725
   Con daros disculpa á vos;
   Mas tengámosla los dos,
   Vos amando y yo pensando;
   Porque de pensar amando
   Lo que puede resultar,                                            730
   Viene el alma á sospechar
   Lo que imaginó del ver;
   Porque no hubiera querer
   Si no hubiera imaginar.
   Que no queráis os advierto                                        735
   Hombre tan fino y helado,
   Que por lo helado me ha dado
   Tristes memorias del muerto.
   Pero si á cogerle acierto
   Con mirar y con rogar...                                          740
   Guárdese pues de llegar;
   Que, agraviada una mujer,
   Quiere hasta que ve querer,
   Por vengarse en olvidar. (_Vanse._)




   ESCENA XIII

   Patio de un mesón de Adamuz.

   UN INDIANO, _y_ UN MOZO DE MULAS; _después_, UN MESONERO



   INDIANO

   Pasaremos de Adamuz,                                              745
   Si este recado nos dan.

   MOZO

   Por eso dice el refrán:
   «Adamuz, pueblo sin luz.»
   Mas mira que desde aquí
   Comienza Sierra-Morena.                                           750

   INDIANO

   Tú las jornadas ordena;
   Eso no corre por mí.

   (_Sale el Mesonero._)

   MESONERO

   Bien venidos, caballeros.

   INDIANO

   Pues, huésped, ¿qué hay que comer?

   MESONERO

   Desde hoy á el amanecer                                           755
   Dos mozos, seis perdigueros
   Vienen con un perdigón,
   De que estoy desesperado.

   INDIANO

   Para mí basta.

   MESONERO

   Ha llegado
   Á hurtaros la bendición                                           760
   Una mujer que le tiene.

   INDIANO

   Y cuando yo le tuviera,
   Por ser mujer se le diera.
   ¿Viene sola?

   MESONERO

   Sola viene.

   INDIANO

   ¡Sola! ¿De qué calidad?                                           765

   MESONERO

   Pobre, y de brío gallarda;
   Porque en un rocín de albarda
   (El término perdonad)
   Como un soldado venía.
   Ella propria se apeó,                                             770
   Le ató y de comer le dió
   Con despejo y bizarría.
   Volvíla á mirar y ví
   Que un arcabuz arrimaba.

   INDIANO

   ¿Que es tan brava?

   MESONERO

   Aunque es tan brava,                                              775
   Os aseguro de mí
   Que más su cara temiera
   Que su arcabuz.

   INDIANO

   ¿Habéis sido
   Galán?

   MESONERO

   Bien me han parecido.
   Ya pasó la primavera,                                             780
   Y estamos en el estío:
   Así los años se van.

   INDIANO

   ¿Qué traje trae?

   MESONERO

   Un gabán
   Que cubre el traje, no el brío;
   Un sombrero razonable...                                          785
   Todo de poco valor;
   Al fin, parece, Señor,
   De buena suerte y afable,
   Menos aquel arcabuz.

   INDIANO

   ¿Es ésta?

   MESONERO

   La misma es.                                                      790




   ESCENA XIV

   DOÑA MARÍA, _con sombrero, gabán y un arcabuz_.--DICHOS


   DOÑA MARÍA (_ap._)

   Temerosa voy, después
   Que he entrado por Adamuz,
   Por ser camino real,
   Á que nunca me atreví;
   Si bien desde que salí,                                           795
   Ha sido el ánimo igual
   Al peligro que he tenido.
   ¡Ay, padre, y cuánto dolor
   Me da el verte sin favor,
   Si no es que el Duque lo ha sido!                                 800
   Suelen faltar los amigos
   En la mejor ocasión;
   Mas ¡ay! que tus años son
   Los mayores enemigos.
   Los de mi hermano pudieran                                        805
   Suplir los tuyos, Señor,
   Aunque no para tu honor
   Más que mis manos hicieran.
   Yo cumplí su obligación;
   Mas defenderte no puedo,                                          810
   Por no acrecentar el miedo
   De mi muerte ó mi prisión.
   Al fin, bien está lo hecho.
   ¿De qué me lamento en vano?
   ¡Traidor don Diego! ¡Á un anciano                                 815
   Con una cruz en el pecho!...
   Así para quien se atreve
   Á las edades ancianas;
   Que es atreverse á unas canas
   Violar un templo de nieve.                                        820
   Pero la mano piadosa
   Del cielo quiere que espante
   Á un Holofernes gigante
   Una Judit valerosa.

   INDIANO (_á doña María_)

   Como suelen los caminos                                           825
   Dar licencia á los que pasan
   Para entretener las horas,
   Que por ellos son tan largas,
   Á preguntaros me atrevo
   Si lo ha de ser la jornada,                                       830
   Ó por ventura tenéis
   Cerca de aquí vuestra casa.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No soy, Señor, desta tierra.

   INDIANO

   Como os ví sola, pensaba
   Que érades de alguna aldea                                        835
   De aquesta fértil comarca.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No, Señor; que yo nací
   De esa parte de Granada,
   Y á servir en ella vine;
   Que cuando los padres faltan                                      840
   En tierna edad á los pobres,
   No tienen otra esperanza.
   No se cansó mi fortuna,
   Pues cuando contenta estaba
   Del buen dueño que tenía,                                         845
   Persona de órdenes sacras,
   Le llevó también la muerte,
   Que para mayor mudanza
   Me dió ocasión, como veis.

   INDIANO

   Y ¿dónde vais?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Siempre hablaba                                                   850
   Esta persona que digo,
   Con notables alabanzas
   De la corte y de Madrid:
   Yo pues, á quien ya faltaba
   Dueño, con algún deseo                                            855
   Que de ver grandeza tanta
   Nació con mi condición,
   Determiné de dar traza
   De ir á servir á la corte.
   Y una vez determinada,                                            860
   Lo que viviendo tenía
   El buen cura (que Dios haya)
   Para su regalo y gusto,
   Arcabuz, rocín de caza
   Y este gabán, tomé luego,                                         865
   Y voy con notables ansias
   De ver lo que alaban todos.

   MOZO

   El camino de Granada
   No es éste.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Decís muy bien;
   Mas vine por ver si estaba                                        870
   En Córdoba un deudo mío.

   INDIANO

   ¡Determinación extraña
   De una mujer!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Soy mujer.

   INDIANO

   Decís muy bien, eso basta.
   Yo voy también á Madrid:                                          875
   Traigo jornada más larga,
   Porque vengo de las Indias;
   Que pocas veces descansa
   El ánimo de los hombres
   Aunque sobre el oro y plata.                                      880
   Y si allá habéis de servir,
   Porque me dicen que tarda
   El premio á las pretensiones
   Que la ocupación dilata,
   Casa tengo de poner:                                              885
   Si en el camino os agrada
   Mi trato, servidme á mí.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   El cielo por vos me ampara.
   Desde hoy soy criada vuestra,
   Y creed que soy criada                                            890
   Que os excusaré de muchas.

   MOZO (_áp._)

   Convertirse quiere en ama.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No habrá cosa que no sepa.

   MOZO

   Y yo salgo á la fianza;
   Que la buena habilidad                                            895
   Se le conoce en la cara.

   INDIANO

   Hanme dicho que en la corte
   Hay ocasiones que gastan
   Inútilmente la hacienda,
   Y yo querría guardarla;                                           900
   Que cuesta mucho adquirirla.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   La familia es excusada
   Donde hay tanta confusión,
   Pues no se repara en nada.
   Yo sola basto á serviros:                                         905
   No habrá cosa que no haga,
   De cuantas haciendas tiene
   El gobierno de una casa.

   INDIANO

   Pues partamos en comiendo,
   Y fiad de mí la paga.                                             910

   DOÑA MARÍA (_áp._)

   ¡Ay fortuna! ¿dónde llevas
   Una mujer desdichada?
   Pero no fueras fortuna,
   Á saber en lo que paras.




   ACTO SEGUNDO

   Sala en casa de doña Ana.




   ESCENA PRIMERA

   EL CONDE, DON JUAN


   DON JUAN

   Compiten con sus virtudes                                         915
   Sus gracias y perfecciones.

   CONDE

   ¿Que tantas persecuciones,
   Visitas, solicitudes,
   Celos, desvelos, requiebros,
   Tengan por premio su olvido,                                      920
   Hasta verme convertido,
   De Amadís, en Beltenebros?
   No he visto tales aceros.

   DON JUAN

   Conde, no habéis de cansaros;
   Que el estado de estimaros                                        925
   Ya es principio de quereros.

   CONDE

   Á los principios me estoy
   Á el cabo de tres semanas.
   ¿Adonde, esperanzas vanas,
   Con este imposible voy?                                           930

   DON JUAN

   Todas son penas posibles,
   Pues que sin celos amáis.

   CONDE

   ¡Ay, ojos, celos me dais,
   Aunque celos invisibles!
   Quéjase de amor doña Ana,                                         935
   Y á mí no me tiene amor:
   Esto es celos en rigor.

   DON JUAN

   ¿Por qué, si es sospecha vana?

   CONDE

   Es celos lo que imagino;
   Que no es celos lo que sé:                                        940
   Cosa que pienso que fué,
   Y que en mi daño adivino.




   ESCENA II

   MARTÍN.--DICHOS


   MARTÍN

   Por poco tuviera calma
   La nave de tu deseo.
   Entro, y á doña Ana veo,                                          945
   Venus de marfil con alma.
   ¿Cómo te podré pintar
   De la suerte que la ví?
   Cultas musas, dadme aquí
   Un ramo blanco de azahar                                          950
   De las huertas de Valencia
   Ó jardines de Sevilla.
   Comience una zapatilla
   De la Vera de Plasencia,
   Porque entremos por la basa                                       955
   Á esta coluna de nieve,
   Agentado azul, pie breve,
   Que de tres puntos no pasa.

   CONDE

   ¿Tres puntos? Necio, repara...

   MARTÍN

   Pues lo digo, yo lo sé:                                           960
   Puntos son que de aquel pie
   Los tomara por la cara.

   DON JUAN

   ¿Cómo lo viste?

   MARTÍN

   Un manteo
   Esta licencia me dió,
   Donde cuanto supo obró                                            965
   La riqueza y el aseo.
   Pero pidió los chapines
   Porque mirarla me vió,
   Y entre las cintas metió
   Cinco pares de jazmines.                                          970

   DON JUAN

   De escarpines presumí,
   Según anda el algodón.

   MARTÍN

   Ésos paragambas son;
   Que á cierta dama que ví
   Con cañafístolas tales,                                           975
   Que se pudiera, aunque bellas,
   Purgar su galán con ellas
   Por drogas medicinales,
   Pregunté si era importante
   Traer damas delicadas                                             980
   Las pantorrillas preñadas.
   Y con risueño semblante
   Me dijo: «No es gentileza;
   Pero cosa no ha de haber
   En una honrada mujer                                              985
   Que se note por flaqueza.»

   CONDE

   ¡Linda disculpa!

   DON JUAN

   Extremada.

   MARTÍN

   La ropa de levantar,
   Con tanto fino alamar,
   Era una colcha bordada.                                           990
   Finalmente, no quería
   Salir, por no verte ansí;
   Pero como yo la ví
   Que para ti se vestía,
   Por no estar siempre en el traje                                  995
   De trájico embajador,
   Porfié, y saldrá, Señor,
   Si la haces pleito homenaje
   De sola conversación,
   Como quedó concertado.                                           1000

   CONDE

   ¡Qué ejercicio tan cansado
   Para mi loca afición!

   DON JUAN

   Música y versos quedaron
   Para esta noche de acuerdo.

   CONDE

   En tenerme por tan cuerdo                                        1005
   Muchos locos la engañaron.




   ESCENA III

   DOÑA ANA, _en hábito galán_; JUANA, MÚSICOS.--DICHOS


   DOÑA ANA

   No dirá vueseñoría
   Que no le fían el talle.

   CONDE

   Quien tan bien puede fialle,
   Agravio á los dos haría:                                         1010
   Á vos por seguridad,
   Y á mí por justo deseo.
   ¡Gracias á amor, que en vos veo
   Señas de más amistad!

   DOÑA ANA

   Siéntese vueseñoría;                                             1015
   Que no le quiero galán
   Esta noche, que nos dan
   La música y la poesía
   Los sugetos que han de hacer
   Un rato conversación.                                            1020

   CONDE

   Dice mi imaginación
   Que no quiere más de ver.

   DOÑA ANA

   Señor don Juan, ¿no os sentáis?--
   ¡Qué esquivo primo tenéis! (_Al Conde._)

   DON JUAN

   La culpa que me ponéis,                                          1025
   Para disculpa me dais;
   Pero quiero obedeceros.

   CONDE

   Canten, y hablemos yo y vos.

   DOÑA ANA

   Y los tres, porque los dos
   No parezcamos groseros.                                          1030

   MÚSICOS. (_Cantan._)

   _¿De qué sirve, ojos serenos,
   Que no me miréis jamás?
   De que yo padezca más,
   Y no de que os quiera menos._

   DOÑA ANA

   No me agrada que á los ojos                                      1035
   Llamen serenos.

   CONDE

   ¿Por qué,
   Si el cielo, cuando se ve
   Libre de azules enojos,
   Se llama así?

   DOÑA ANA

   En una dama
   No apruebo vuestro argumento,                                    1040
   Si es el alma el movimiento
   Que á cuantos los miran llama,
   Y si al cielo en su azul velo
   La serenidad cuadró,
   Á el sol y á la luna no,                                         1045
   Que son los ojos del cielo;
   Porque éstos siempre se mueven.

   CONDE

   Perdonad á la canción
   No ser de vuestra opinión:
   Tanto los versos se atreven.                                     1050

   DON JUAN

   Díganse á varios sugetos,
   Como quedó concertado.

   DOÑA ANA

   Comience el Conde.

   CONDE

   He buscado
   En vuestro loor seis concetos.
   Oid.

   DOÑA ANA

   No por vida mía;                                                 1055
   Escritos me los daréis.

   CONDE

   No sea, pues no queréis.

   DOÑA ANA

   Emplead vuestra poesía
   Adonde más partes haya.

   CONDE

   Pues oid, si sois servida,                                       1060
   Un soneto á la venida
   Del inglés á Cádiz.

   DOÑA ANA

   Vaya.

   CONDE

   Atrevióse el inglés, de engaño armado
   Porque al león de España vió en el nido,
   Las uñas en el ámbar, y vestido,                                 1065
   En vez de pieles, del tusón dorado.

   Con débil caña, no con fresno herrado,
   Vió á Marte en forma de español Cupido,
   Volar y herir en el jinete, herido
   Del acicate en púrpura bañado.                                   1070

   Armó cien naves y emprendió la falda
   De España asir por las arenas solas
   Del mar, cuyo cristal ciñe esmeralda;

   Mas viendo en las colunas españolas
   La sombra del león, volvió la espalda,                           1075
   Sembrando las banderas por las olas.

   DON JUAN

   ¡Levantó la pluma el vuelo!

   DOÑA ANA

   ¡Gran soneto á toda ley!

   DON JUAN

   ¡Qué bien pinta á nuestro rey!

   DOÑA ANA

   Mejor le ha pintado el cielo.                                    1080

   MARTÍN

   ¡Gran soneto!

   CONDE

   No le he dado,
   Porque no estoy dél contento.--
   Decid vos.

   DOÑA ANA

   ¡Qué atrevimiento!
   Donde vos habéis hablado!

   DON JUAN

   Excusad tales excusas.                                           1085

   DOÑA ANA

   ¿Mas qué os ha de causar risa?

   CONDE

   Hablad, divina poetisa.

   MARTÍN

   Silencio; que hablan las musas.

   DOÑA ANA

   Amaba Filis á quien no la amaba,
   Y á quien la amaba ingrata aborrecía;                            1090
   Hablaba á quien jamás la respondía,
   Sin responder jamás á quien la hablaba.

   Seguía á quien huyendo la dejaba,
   Dejaba á quien amando la seguía;
   Por quien la despreciaba se perdía,                              1095
   Y á el perdido por ella despreciaba.

   Concierta, amor, si ya posible fuere,
   Desigualdad que tu poder infama:
   Muera quien vive, y vivirá quien muere.

   Da hielo á hielo, amor, y llama á llama,                         1100
   Porque pueda querer á quien la quiere
   Ó pueda aborrecer á quien desama.

   CONDE

   Vos os podéis alabar;
   Que nadie puede, Señora.

   DOÑA ANA

   Hablará don Juan agora.                                          1105

   DON JUAN

   Dejádmele imaginar.

   Una moza de cántaro y del río,
   Más limpia que la plata que en él lleva,
   Recién herrada de chinela nueva,
   Honor del devantal, reina del brío;                              1110

   Con manos de marfil, con señorío,
   Que no hay tan gran Señor que se le atreva,
   Pues donde lava, dice amor que nieva,
   Es alma ilustre al pensamiento mío.

   Por estrella, por fe, por accidente,                             1115
   Viéndola henchir el cántaro, en despojos
   Rendí la vida á el brazo trasparente;

   Y, envidiosos del agua mis enojos,
   Dije: «¿Por qué la coges de la fuente,
   Si la tienes, más cerca, de mis ojos?»                           1120

   DOÑA ANA

   ¡Malos versos!

   DON JUAN

   No sé más.

   DOÑA ANA

   Un caballero discreto
   ¿Escribe á tan vil sugeto?
   No lo creyera jamás.

   CONDE

   Tiene doña Ana razón.                                            1125

   DON JUAN

   Si hubiérades visto el brío
   Del nuevo sugeto mío,
   La hermosura y discreción,
   Dijérades que tenía
   Tanta razón de querer,                                           1130
   Que no supe encarecer
   Lo menos que merecía.

   DOÑA ANA

   Si es disfrazar vuestra dama,
   Como suelen los poetas,
   Por tratar cosas secretas                                        1135
   Sin ofensa de su fama,
   Está bien; pero si no,
   Bajo pensamiento ha sido.

   DON JUAN

   Ninguna cosa he fingido,
   Ni tengo la culpa yo;                                            1140
   Porque no lejos de aquí
   Vive la hermosa Isabel,
   Por quien el amor cruel
   Hace estos lances en mí.
   Sirve á un indiano, que viene                                    1145
   Á la corte á pretender.
   No sé qué puede querer
   Quien tanta riqueza tiene.

   DOÑA ANA

   Á tal sugeto ¡tal fe!

   DON JUAN

   La que me ha muerto y rendido,                                   1150
   Moza de cántaro ha sido,
   Moza de cántaro fué.
   En él este amor bebí,
   Todo me abrasó con él;
   Ella fué Sirena, y él                                            1155
   El mar en que me perdí.
   Con él veneno me ha dado,
   Con él me mató.

   DOÑA ANA

   Si fuera
   Martín quien eso dijera,
   Estuviera disculpado;                                            1160
   Pero ¡un caballero, un hombre
   Como vos!...

   DON JUAN

   No es elección
   Amor; diferentes son
   Los efetos de su nombre.
   Es desde el cabello al pie                                       1165
   Tan bizarra y aliñosa,
   Que no es tan limpia la rosa,
   Por más que al alba lo esté.
   Tiene un grave señorío
   En medio desta humildad,                                         1170
   Que aumenta su honestidad
   Y no deshace su brío.
   Finalmente, yo no ví
   Dama que merezca amor
   Con más fe, con más rigor.                                       1175

   DOÑA ANA

   Advertid que estoy yo aquí,
   Y toca en descortesía
   Tan necio encarecimiento.

   DON JUAN

   Yo he dicho mi pensamiento
   Sin pensar que os ofendía.                                       1180

   CONDE

   No os levantéis. ¿Dónde vais?

   DOÑA ANA

   Corrida me voy.

   DON JUAN

   ¿Por qué? Sin ofensa vuestra hablé.

   DOÑA ANA

   Si cosas bajas amáis,
   No las igualéis conmigo.                                         1185

   (_Vanse doña Ana y Juana._)




   ESCENA IV

   EL CONDE, DON JUAN, MARTÍN; _después_, JUANA


   CONDE

   ¡Por Dios, que tiene razón!

   MARTÍN

   Cesó la conversación.

   DON JUAN

   ¡Porque lo que siento digo!

   CONDE

   Decir que no visteis dama
   Como ella, ¿no ha sido error?                                    1190

   DON JUAN

   ¿Error?

   (_Sale Juana._)

   JUANA

   Conde, mi señor,
   Entrad: mi señora os llama.

   CONDE (_á don Juan_)

   Ella me quiere decir
   Que no os traiga más conmigo.

   DON JUAN

   Si lo tiene por castigo,                                         1195
   No apelo de no venir.

   (_Vanse el Conde y Juana._)

   Di á el Conde que á verla fuí,
   (_Á Martín._)
   Ésa que á doña Ana enfada.

   MARTÍN

   Tú ¿quieres lo que te agrada?

   DON JUAN

   Sí, Martín, mil veces sí.                                        1200

   MARTÍN

   Pues quiérela si la quieres;
   Que tal vez agrada un prado
   Más que un jardín cultivado,
   Y al fin todas son mujeres. (_Vanse._)




   ESCENA V

   Calle.

   DOÑA MARÍA, _en hábito humilde y devantal_; EL INDIANO, _siguiéndola_.


   DOÑA MARÍA

   _Advierta vuestra merced                                         1205
   Que si esto adelante pasa, No estoy un
   hora en su casa._

   INDIANO

   (_Ap._ Pensamiento, detened
   El paso; que hay honra aquí.)
   Palabra, Isabel, te doy                                          1210
   Que no seré desde hoy
   Importuno como fuí.
   Desprecia en fin tu belleza
   Y ese donaire apacible;
   Que ya sé que es imposible                                       1215
   Mudar la naturaleza. (_Vase._)




   ESCENA VI


   DOÑA MARÍA

   Tiempos de mudanzas llenos,
   Y de firmezas jamás,
   Que ya de menos á más,
   Y ya vais de más á menos,                                        1220
   ¿Cómo en tan breve distancia,
   Para tanto desconsuelo,
   Habéis humillado á el suelo
   Mi soberbia y arrogancia?
   El desprecio que tenía                                           1225
   De cuantas cosas miraba,
   Las galas que desechaba,
   Los papeles que rompía;
   El no haber de quien pensase
   Que mi mano mereciese,                                           1230
   Por servicios que me hiciese,
   Por años que me obligase;
   Toda aquella bizarría
   Que como sueño pasó,
   Á tanta humildad llegó,                                          1235
   Que por mí decir podría:
   _Aprended, flores, de mí
   Lo que va de ayer á hoy;
   Que ayer maravilla fuí,
   Y hoy sombra mía aun no soy._                                    1240
   Flores, que á la blanca aurora
   Con tal belleza salís,
   Que soberbias competís
   Con el mismo sol que os dora,
   Toda la vida es un hora:                                         1245
   Como vosotras me ví,
   Tan arrogante salí;
   Sucedió la noche al día:
   Mirad la desdicha mía,
   _Aprended, flores, de mí._                                       1250
   Maravilla solía ser
   De toda la Andalucía;
   Ó maravilla ó María,
   Ya no soy la que era ayer.
   Flores, no os deis á entender                                    1255
   Que no seréis lo que soy,
   Pues hoy en estado estoy,
   Que si en ayer me contemplo,
   Conoceréis por mi ejemplo
   _Lo que va de ayer á hoy._                                       1260
   No desvanezca al clavel
   La púrpura, ni á el dorado
   La corona, ni al morado
   Lirio el hilo de oro en él;
   No te precies de cruel,                                          1265
   Manutisa carmesí,
   Ni por el color turquí,
   Bárbara violeta, ignores
   Tu fin, contemplando, flores,
   _Que ayer maravilla fuí._                                        1270
   De esta loca bizarría
   Quedaréis desengañadas
   Cuando con manos heladas
   Os cierre la noche fría.
   Maravilla ser solía;                                             1275
   Pero ya lástima doy;
   Que de extremo á extremo voy,
   Y desde ser á no ser,
   Pues sol me llamaba ayer,
   _Y hoy sombra mía aun no soy._                                   1280




   ESCENA VII

   DON JUAN.--DOÑA MARÍA


   DON JUAN

   Dicha he tenido, por Dios.--
   Isabel, ¿adónde bueno?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Adónde bueno, Isabel?
   Adonde hallase un requiebro.
   ¿Pensáis que no tengo yo                                         1285
   Mi poco de entendimiento?

   DON JUAN

   Bien conozco que no ignoras
   Tanto; que á veces sospecho
   Que finges lo que no entiendes.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Lo que no quiero no entiendo.                                    1290
   Pero á la fe que me admira
   Que un caballero tan cuerdo
   Y tan galán como vos
   Humille sus pensamientos
   Á una mujer como yo.                                             1295
   ¿Sois pobre?

   DON JUAN

   Pues ¿á qué efeto
   Me preguntas si soy pobre?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Porque si os falta dinero
   Para pretensiones altas,
   No tengo por mal acuerdo                                         1300
   Requebrar lo que, á la cuenta
   Del entendimiento vuestro,
   Os costará zapatillas,
   Ligas, medias y un sombrero
   Para el río con su banda,                                        1305
   Avantal de lienzo grueso,
   Chinelas ya sin virillas
   (Que solía en otro tiempo
   En los pies de las mujeres
   La plata barrer el suelo),                                       1310
   Castañetas, cintas, tocas;
   Que para últimos empleos
   De las damas, fondo en ángel,
   No hay plata en el alto cerro
   Del Potosí, perlas ni oro                                        1315
   En los orientales reinos.
   Más pienso que os costarían
   Las randas de un telarejo
   Que una legión de fregonas.

   DON JUAN

   No juzgaras mis deseos                                           1320
   Por el camino que dices,
   Si te dijera el espejo
   El despejo de tu talle.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Espejo y despejo? ¡Bueno!
   Ya con cuidado me habláis,                                       1325
   Porque en efeto os parezco
   Mujer que os puedo entender.
   Pues yo os prometo que puedo;
   Pero el estar enseñada
   Á oir vocablos groseros                                          1330
   De un indiano miserable:
   «Vé por esto, vuelve presto,
   Esto guisa, aquello deja,
   ¿Limpiaste aquel ferreruelo?
   Vé por nieve, trae carbón,                                       1335
   Esto está sin sal, aquello
   Sin agrio, llama á ese esclavo,
   Éste lava, y dame un lienzo,
   ¿Cómo gastas tanta azúcar?
   Para madrugar me acuesto,                                        1340
   Despiértame de mañana,
   Pon la mesa, luego vuelvo;»
   Y otras cosas de este porte
   Me han quitado el sentimiento
   De otras razones más grandes,                                    1345
   No porque no las entiendo.
   En efeto ¿qué queréis?

   DON JUAN

   Que me quieras en efeto.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¡Bien aforrada razón,
   Y bien dicha para presto!                                        1350
   Bien digo yo que pensáis
   Que á mi corto entendimiento
   Importan resoluciones,
   Atajos, y no rodeos.
   Pues levantad el lenguaje;                                       1355
   Que, como dicen los negros,
   El ánima tengo blanca,
   Aunque mal vestido el cuerpo.
   Habladme como quien sois.

   DON JUAN

   Yo, Isabel, así lo creo;                                         1360
   Porque, pensando en tu oficio,
   Tal vez el respeto pierdo;
   Pero en mirando á tu cara,
   Vuelvo á tenerte respeto.
   Mas no te debe enojar                                            1365
   Que te diga mi deseo;
   Que sólo son por el fin
   Todos los actos perfectos.
   ¿Qué dirás deste lenguaje?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Que, aunque es el término honesto,                               1370
   No me agrada la intención
   De la suerte que la entiendo.
   Conmigo (á lo que imagino)
   Tomáis la espada á lo diestro.
   Tiré, desviasteis, huí;                                          1375
   Y acometiéndome al pecho,
   Herida de conclusión
   Formó vuestro pensamiento.
   Pues no, mi señor, por vida
   De los dos, porque no quiero                                     1380
   Que, asiendo la guarnición,
   Engañéis mi honesto celo.
   Esténse quedas las manos,
   Y aun los pensamientos quedos;
   Que no seremos amigos                                            1385
   En no siendo el trato honesto.

   DON JUAN

   Como das, Isabel mía,
   (¿Mía dije? ¡Ay Dios! que miento)
   En pensar que por ser pobre
   Te busco, te sigo y ruego,                                       1390
   Dilatas á mis verdades
   El justo agradecimiento.
   Pues yo te juro, Isabel,
   Que por quererte, desprecio
   La más hermosa mujer,                                            1395
   Donaire y entendimiento
   Que tiene aqueste lugar;
   Porque más estimo y precio
   Un listón de tus chinelas
   Que las perlas de su cuello.                                     1400
   Más precio en tus blancas manos
   Ver aquel cántaro puesto,
   Á la fuente del Olvido
   Pedirle cristal deshecho;
   Y ver que á tu dulce risa                                        1405
   Deciende el agua riyendo,
   Envidiosa la que cae
   De fuera á la que entra dentro;
   Y ver cómo se da prisa
   El agua á henchirle de presto,                                   1410
   Por ir contigo á tu casa,
   En tus brazos ó en tus pechos,
   Que ver como cierta dama
   Baja en su coche soberbio,
   Asiendo verdes cortinas                                          1415
   Por dar diamantes los dedos,
   Ó asoma por el estribo
   Los rizos de los cabellos
   En las uñas de un descanso,
   Que á tantos sirvió de anzuelo.                                  1420
   Yo me contento que digas,
   Dulce Isabel: «¡Yo te quiero!»
   Que también quiero yo el alma;
   No todo el amor es cuerpo.
   ¿Qué respondes, ojos míos?                                       1425

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Á ojos míos yo no puedo
   Responder ninguna cosa,
   Porque decís que son vuestros.
   Á lo de la voluntad,
   Pienso que licencia tengo;                                       1430
   Y así, pues alma queréis,
   Digo (porque os vais con esto)
   Que el primer hombre sois vos
   Á quien amor agradezco.

   DON JUAN

   ¿No más, Isabel?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Es poco?                                                        1435
   Pues vaya por contrapeso
   Que no me desagradáis.

   DON JUAN

   ¿No más, Isabel?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Qué es esto?
   Conténtese, ó quitaréle
   Lo que le he dado primero.                                       1440

   DON JUAN

   ¿Podré tomarte una mano?
   Aunque por Dios que la temo,
   Después que la ví tan diestra
   Esgrimir el blanco acero.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Pues vos no me conocéis:                                         1445
   Por Dios que algún hombre he muerto
   Aquí donde me miráis.

   DON JUAN

   Con los ojos, yo lo creo.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Idos; que viene mi amo.

   DON JUAN

   ¿Dónde esta tarde te espero?                                     1450

   DOÑA MARÍA

   En la fuente, á lo lacayo.

   DON JUAN

   Logre tu donaire el cielo. (_Vase._)




   ESCENA VIII

   LEONOR.--DOÑA MARÍA


   LEONOR

   Isabel...

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Leonor amiga...

   LEONOR

   ¿Con éste hablabas?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Pues bien?

   LEONOR

   ¿Qué se hizo tu desdén?                                          1455

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Un amor honesto obliga.
   Y te aseguro de mí
   Que es mucho tenelle amor.

   LEONOR

   Su talle, ingenio y valor
   Habrán hecho riza en ti.                                         1460
   Que lo merece confieso;
   Pero en la desigualdad
   No puede haber amistad.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Los elementos por eso
   No tienen paz y sosiego:                                         1465
   El agua á la tierra oprime,
   El aire á el agua, y reprime
   La fuerza del aire el fuego.
   Mas como él me quiere á mí
   No más de para querer,                                           1470
   ¿Qué pierdo en corresponder?

   LEONOR

   Mucho.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Cómo?

   LEONOR

   Mucho.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Di.

   LEONOR

   Adora mi ama en él.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Quién te lo ha dicho?

   LEONOR

   Yo y Juana
   Lo vemos, y á ella con gana                                      1475
   De casamiento, Isabel.
   Por eso, si no envidaste,
   Descarta y quédate en dos.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Sábeslo bien?

   LEONOR

   Sí, por Dios.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Tarde, Leonor, me avisaste;                                      1480
   No porque pueda alabarse
   Del más mínimo favor,
   Sino por tenerle amor,
   Que no es fácil de olvidarse.
   Necia fuí en imaginar                                            1485
   Que un don Juan tan entonado
   Para mí estaba guardado.

   LEONOR

   Un hombre te quiero dar
   Compañero de otro mío,
   Bravo, pero no cruel,                                            1490
   Que puede ser, Isabel,
   De cuantas profesan brío.
   No pone codo en la puente
   Hombre de tales aceros,
   Ni han visto los lavaderos                                       1495
   Más alentado valiente.
   Ama en tu misma región.
   ¿Quién te mete con don Juanes?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Tu ama ¿trata en galanes?

   LEONOR

   De honesta conversación                                          1500
   De un conde que la visita,
   Le nacieron los antojos.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¡Quién la ve tan baja de ojos
   Á la señora viudita!

   LEONOR

   Hermana, enviudó ha dos meses,                                   1505
   Viénele grande la cama.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Y en fin ¿le quiere tu ama?

   LEONOR

   Como si juntos los vieses.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Vé por el cántaro, y vamos
   Al Prado.

   LEONOR

   Á Pedro verás;                                                   1510
   Que se quedan siempre atrás
   Él y Martín de sus amos. (_Vase._)




   ESCENA IX


   DOÑA MARÍA

   Á mis graves desconsuelos
   Solo faltaba este amor,
   Á este amor este rigor,                                          1515
   Á este rigor estos celos.
   ¿No me bastaba tener,
   Para no ser conocida,
   Este género de vida,
   Sino á quien quieren querer?                                     1520
   Pero andar en competencia,
   Moza de cántaro en fin,
   Cristalino serafín,
   Con vos, será impertinencia.
   Mejor es ser lo que soy,                                         1525
   Pues que no soy lo que fuí:
   Aprended, flores, de mí
   Lo que vá de ayer á hoy. (_Vase._)




   ESCENA X

   Prado con una fuente.


   MARTÍN, PEDRO

   PEDRO

   Y ¿que tiene tan buen talle?

   MARTÍN

   Esto me dijo Leonor,                                             1530
   Y que es la moza mejor
   Que tiene toda la calle.
   Es una perla, un asombro;
   Rinden parias á su brío
   Cuantas llevan ropa á el río                                     1535
   Y llevan cántaro en hombro.
   Es mujer que este don Juan,
   Primo del Conde mi dueño,
   Pierde por hablarla el sueño,
   Desmayos de amor le dan.                                         1540
   De la suerte la pasea
   Que á la dama de más partes;
   Pero en estos Durandartes
   Poco el pensamiento emplea.
   De noche la viene á ver,                                         1545
   Y anda el pobre caballero,
   De su cántaro escudero,
   Sin dormir y sin comer.
   Sirve á un caballero indiano
   Tan cuidado, que consiente                                       1550
   Que vaya y venga á la fuente;
   Puesto que le culpo en vano,
   Porque pienso que ella gusta
   De salir, por ver y hablar
   (Que á mozas deste lugar                                         1555
   Mucho el no salir disgusta),
   Á jabonar y á lavar
   Á los pilares, á el río.

   PEDRO

   En fin, es moza de brío,
   Y que puede descuidar                                            1560
   De camisas y valonas
   Á un hombre de mi talante.

   MARTÍN

   Lleva, en saliendo, delante
   Más pretendientes personas
   Que un oidor ó presidente.                                       1565

   PEDRO

   Si yo la moza poseo,
   Luego habrá despolvoreo
   De todo amor pretendiente:
   Á ellos de cuchilladas
   Y á ella de muchas coces.                                        1570
   Ya mi cólera conoces.

   MARTÍN

   No la has visto ¿y ya te enfadas?

   PEDRO

   Gente de un coche se apea.

   MARTÍN

   Con ellos viene don Juan.

   PEDRO

   ¡Por vida del alazán,                                            1575
   Que no es la viudilla fea!




   ESCENA XI

   DOÑA ANA, JUANA, DON JUAN.--DICHOS


   DON JUAN

   Por el coche os conocí,
   Y luego al Conde avisé,
   Que en la carroza dejé
   Harto envidioso de mí.                                           1580
   Vine á ver lo que mandáis;
   Que apearos no habrá sido
   Sin causa.

   DOÑA ANA

   Causa he tenido;
   Que siempre vos me la dais.
   Quiero venir á la fuente,                                        1585
   Porque sé que es el lugar
   Adonde os tengo de hallar,
   Y donde sois pretendiente.

   DON JUAN

   ¡Buen oficio me habéis dado!
   Ó de bestia ó de aguador.                                        1590

   DOÑA ANA

   Conociendo vuestro humor,
   Señor don Juan, he pensado
   Venir por agua también.--
   Muestra ese búcaro, Juana.

   DON JUAN

   Dado habéis esta mañana,                                         1595
   Filos, Señora, al desdén.

   DOÑA ANA

   Deseando enamoraros,
   Moza de cántaro soy,
   Por agua á la fuente voy.

   DON JUAN

   Tenéos...

   DOÑA ANA

   Quiero agradaros.                                                1600

   DON JUAN

   Es el cántaro pequeño,
   Templará poco el rigor
   Á los enfermos de amor.




   ESCENA XII

   DOÑA MARÍA _y_ LEONOR, _con sus cántaros_.--DICHOS


   DOÑA MARÍA (_á Leonor_)

   Esto me dijo mi dueño;
   Que en el patio de palacio,                                      1605
   Archivo de novedades,
   Ya mentiras, ya verdades,
   Como pasean de espacio,
   Lo contaba mucha gente.

   LEONOR

   Y ¿que esa mujer mató                                            1610
   Á el que á su padre afrentó?
   ¡Bravo corazón!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Valiente.
   Dijo que había pedido
   La parte pesquisidor,
   Y que á el Rey nuestro señor                                     1615
   (Cuya vida al cielo pido),
   Consultaron este caso,
   Y que no quiso que fuese
   Quien pesadumbre le diese.

   LEONOR

   No fué la piedad acaso,                                          1620
   Si el padre estaba inocente.
   ¿Y nunca más pareció
   Esa dama que mató
   Á el caballero insolente?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   De eso no me dijo nada.                                          1625
   Yo estoy contenta de ver
   (Que en efeto soy mujer)
   Que la hubiese tan honrada.

   LEONOR

   ¿Dijo el nombre que tenía?
   Que me alegra á mí también.                                      1630

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No sé si me acuerdo bien...
   Aunque sí: doña María.

   MARTÍN

   Aquí están dos escuderos
   Para las dos.

   LEONOR

   Isabel,
   Este mozazo es aquel                                             1635
   Que te dije.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¡Oh, caballeros!...

   MARTÍN (_á Pedro_)

   Llega, no estés vergonzoso;
   Llega y habla.

   PEDRO

   Estoy mirando
   Á Isabel, y contemplando
   Su talle y su rostro hermoso.                                    1640
   Téngame vuesamerced
   Por suyo desde esta tarde.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   (_Ap._ ¡Qué buen hombrón!) Dios le guarde.

   PEDRO (_ap._)

   Cayó la daifa en la red.
   Ya está perdida por mí.                                          1645

   DOÑA MARÍA (_ap._)

   Con pocos de éstos pudiera
   Conducir una galera
   Á la China, desde aquí,
   Don Fadrique de Toledo.

   PEDRO

   Pido mano, doy turrón.                                           1650

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Mas que lleva un mojicón,
   Hombrón, si no se está quedo?

   PEDRO

   ¡Por el agua de la mar,
   Que tiene valor la hembra!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Pues no sabe dónde siembra.                                      1655

   PEDRO

   (_Ap._ Á el primer encuentro azar.)
   ¡Voto á tus ojos serenos,
   Isabel, porque te asombres,
   Que me mate con mil hombres,
   Y esto será lo de menos!                                         1660
   Ablándate, serafín.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Déjeme, no me zabuque.

   PEDRO

   Aquí en la esquina del Duque
   Hay turrón.--Vamos, Martín.

   MARTÍN

   Vamos, y gasta; que luego                                        1665
   Estará como algodón.

   PEDRO

   Sí, mas ¡coz y mordiscón!...
   Parece rocín gallego.

   (_Vanse Martín y Pedro._)




   ESCENA XIII

   DOÑA ANA, DON JUAN, DOÑA MARÍA, LEONOR, JUANA


   DOÑA ANA

   Quedo, no os pongáis delante;
   Que ya he visto por las señas                                    1670
   Que es aquélla vuestra dama.

   JUANA

   Pues Leonor viene con ella,
   ¿Quién duda que es Isabel?
   Fuera de que no tuviera
   Ninguna aquel talle y brío.                                      1675

   DOÑA ANA

   Disculpa tiene en quererla
   El señor don Juan.

   JUANA

   La moza
   En otro traje pudiera
   Hacer á cualquiera dama
   Pesadumbre y competencia.                                        1680

   DON JUAN

   ¿Es todo por darme vaya?

   DOÑA ANA

   Quisiérala ver más cerca.
   Dígale vuesamerced
   Que está aquí una dama enferma,
   Que se le antoja beber                                           1685
   Por la cantarilla nueva;
   Que no irá de mala gana.

   DON JUAN

   Sólo por serviros fuera.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¡Ay, Leonor!

   LEONOR

   ¿Qué?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Tu señora
   Y aquél mi galán con ella.                                       1690

   LEONOR

   Parece que te has turbado.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Por poco se me cayera
   El cántaro de las manos.

   DON JUAN (_á doña María_)

   Aquella señora os ruega
   Que la deis un poco de agua.                                     1695

   DOÑA MARÍA

   De buena gana la diera
   Á ella el agua, y á vos
   Con el cántaro.

   DON JUAN

   No seas
   Necia.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Llevádsela vos,
   Y de vuestra mano beba.                                          1700

   DON JUAN

   Mira que en público estamos,
   Y las mujeres discretas
   No hacen cosas indignas.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Iré porque nadie entienda
   Que me da celos á mí.--                                          1705

   (_Llégase á doña Ana._)

   Vuesamerced beba, y crea
   Que quisiera que este barro
   Fuera cristal de Venecia;
   Pero serálo en tocando
   Esas manos y esas perlas.                                        1710

   DOÑA ANA

   Beberé, porque he caído.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Si el agua el susto sosiega,
   Beba; que todos caeremos,
   Si no en el daño, en la cuenta.

   DOÑA ANA

   Yo he bebido.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Y yo también.                                                    1715

   DOÑA ANA (_ap._)

   Yo pesares.

   DOÑA MARÍA (_ap._)

   Yo sospechas.

   DOÑA ANA

   ¡Qué caliente!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Vuestras manos
   De nieve servir pudieran.

   DOÑA ANA (_á Juana_)

   Haz que llegue el coche.

   JUANA (_llamando_)

   ¡Ah, Hernando!

   DOÑA ANA

   ¡Buena moza!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Buena sea                                                        1720
   Su vida.

   (_Vanse doña Ana y Juana._)




   ESCENA XIV

   DOÑA MARÍA, DON JUAN, LEONOR


   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿No la acompaña?
   ¡Mal galán! ¿Así se queda?

   DON JUAN

   Á darte satisfaciones.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Estoy yo tan satisfecha,
   Que será gastar palabras.                                        1725

   DON JUAN

   Mira, Isabel, que esto es fuerza,
   Y que bien sabe Leonor
   (Dejo aparte mi fineza)
   Que el Conde sirve á doña Ana.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Cántaro, tened paciencia;                                        1730
   Vais y venís á la fuente:
   Quien va y viene siempre á ella,
   ¿De qué se espanta, si el asa
   Ó la frente se le quiebra?
   Sois barro, no hay que fiar.                                     1735
   Mas ¿quién, cántaro, os dijera
   Que no os volviérades plata
   En tal boca, en tales perlas?
   Pero lo que es barro humilde,
   En fin, por barro se queda.                                      1740
   No volváis más á la fuente,
   Porque estoy segura y cierta
   Que no es bien que vos hagáis
   Á los coches competencia.

   DON JUAN

   ¿Qué dices? Mira, Isabel,                                        1745
   Que sin culpa me condenas.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Yo con mi cántaro hablo;
   Si es mío, ¿de qué se queja?
   Váyase vuesamerced,
   Mire que el coche se aleja.                                      1750

   DON JUAN

   Iréme desesperado,
   Pues haces cosas como éstas,
   Sabiendo que Leonor sabe
   Que no es posible que quiera
   Eso de que tienes celos. (_Vase._)                               1755




   ESCENA XV

   DOÑA MARÍA, LEONOR


   LEONOR

   Necia estás. ¿Por qué le dejas
   Que se vaya con disgusto?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Leonor, el alma me lleva;
   Que los celos me han picado.
   Pero no seré yo necia                                            1760
   En querer desigualdades,
   Aunque me abrase y me muera.
   No he de ver más á don Juan.
   ¡Esto faltaba á mis penas!

   LEONOR

   ¡Buen lance habemos echado!                                      1765
   Tú desesperada quedas,
   Y mi ama va perdida.




   ESCENA XVI

   PEDRO, MARTÍN.--DICHAS


   PEDRO

   Como dos soldados juegan:
   Perdí el turrón y el dinero.

   MARTÍN

   Cosas la corte sustenta,                                         1770
   Que no sé cómo es posible.
   ¡Quién ve tantas diferencias
   De personas y de oficios,
   Vendiendo cosas diversas!
   Bolos, bolillos, bizcochos,                                      1775
   Turrón, castañas, muñecas,
   Bocados de mermelada,
   Letuarios y conservas;
   Mil figurillas de azúcar,
   Flores, rosarios, rosetas,                                       1780
   Rosquillas y mazapanes,
   Aguardiente, y de canela;
   Calendarios, relaciones,
   Pronósticos, obras nuevas,
   Y á _Don Alvaro de Luna_,                                        1785
   Mantenedor destas fiestas.
   Mas quedo; que están aquí.

   PEDRO

   ¡Oigan! ¿De qué es la tristeza?
   ¿No estaba alegre esta moza?
   ¡Qué pensativas están!                                           1790

   MARTÍN

   Pienso que andaba don Juan
   Acechando una carroza.

   PEDRO

   Quien te me enojó, Isabel,
   Que con lágrimas lo pene:
   Hágote voto solene                                               1795
   Que pueden doblar por él.
   Vuelve, Isabel, esos ojos;
   Que no soy yo por lo menos
   Quien á tus ojos serenos
   Quitó luz y puso enojos.                                         1800
   ¿Quién tan bárbara y cruel,
   Á tu hermosura atrevido,
   Causa de tu enojo ha sido?
   ¿Quién te me enojó, Isabel?
   No es posible que tuviese                                        1805
   Noticia de mi rigor,
   Sin que luego de temor
   Súbitamente muriese.
   Quien te enojó, ¿vida tiene?
   ¿Que donde estoy, vivo esté?                                     1810
   Dime quién es; que yo haré
   Que con lágrimas lo pene.
   Dime cómo y de qué suerte
   Que le mate se te antoja,
   Porque en sacando la hoja,                                       1815
   Soy guadaña de la muerte.
   Si el Cid á su lado viene,
   Gigote de hombres haré,
   Y de que lo cumpliré
   Hágote voto solene.                                              1820
   Si yo me enojo en Madrid
   Con quien á ti te ha enojado,
   Haz cuenta que se ha tocado
   La tumba en Valladolid.
   Porque en diciendo, Isabel,                                      1825
   Que he de matalle, está muerto.
   No hay que esperar, porque es cierto
   Que pueden doblar por él.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Ven, Leonor; vamos á casa.

   LEONOR

   Triste vas.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Perdida estoy.                                                   1830

   PEDRO

   ¿Así se va?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Así me voy.

   PEDRO

   Pues cuénteme lo que pasa.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No quiero.

   PEDRO

   Tendréla.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Tome.

   PEDRO

   ¡Ay!

   MARTÍN

   ¿Qué fué?

   PEDRO

   Tamborilada.

   LEONOR

   ¿Dístele, Isabel?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No es nada.                                                      1835
   Pregúntale si le come.




   ACTO TERCERO




   ESCENA PRIMERA

   PEDRO, BERNAL, MARTÍN _y_ LORENZO, _dentro_


   PEDRO

   ¡Fuera digo! No haya más.

   LORENZO

   ¡Ay, que me ha descalabrado!

   MARTÍN

   Con el cántaro le ha dado.

   BERNAL

   ¡Lavado, Lorenzo, vas!                                           1840

   LORENZO

   Esto ¿se puede sufrir?

   PEDRO

   Llévale á curar, Bernal.

   LORENZO

   ¡Vive Cristo, que la tal!... (_Salen._)

   MARTÍN

   No lo acabes de decir.

   PEDRO

   No queda lacayo en ser                                           1845
   Donde esta mujer está.

   MARTÍN

   Bravas bofetadas da.

   PEDRO

   Dos mozas azotó ayer.

   BERNAL

   ¡Ea, ea! Que no es nada.




   ESCENA II

   DOÑA MARÍA, LEONOR.--DICHOS


   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¡Pícaro! ¿Pellizco á mí?                                         1850
   ¡Fuera, digo!

   LEONOR

   ¿Estás en ti?

   LORENZO

   ¡Á mí, Isabel, cantarada!
   ¡Voto á el hijo de la mar!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Llegue el lacayo gallina.

   PEDRO

   Daga trae en la pretina.                                         1855

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Y aun enseñada á matar.
   Llegue el barbado, y daréle
   Dos mohadas á la usanza
   De mi tierra, por la panza,
   Y hará el puñal lo que suele.                                    1860

   LORENZO

   ¡Mataréla!

   PEDRO

   Estoy aquí
   Á pagar de mi dinero.

   LORENZO

   Pues con él haberlas quiero,
   Aunque es mujer para mí.

   PEDRO

   ¡Miente!

   LORENZO

   Véngase conmigo.                                                 1865

   (_Vanse los hombres._)




   ESCENA III

   DOÑA MARÍA, LEONOR


   LEONOR

   ¡Buenos van, desafiados!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¡Qué diferentes cuidados
   Me da, Leonor, mi enemigo!

   LEONOR

   ¿No le has visto más?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Ayer.

   LEONOR

   Alegre quisiera hallarte,                                        1870
   Porque te alcanzara parte
   De mi contento y placer.
   Ya Martín se determina,
   Y nos queremos casar:
   Mira que nos has de honrar,                                      1875
   Y que has de ser la madrina.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Estoy desacomodada
   Del indiano; que si no,
   Yo lo hiciera: aquí me dió
   Su casa una amiga honrada,                                       1880
   Donde de prestado estoy.

   LEONOR

   Mi Señora te dará
   Vestidos: vamos allá;
   Que pienso que ha de ser hoy.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Tendré vergüenza de vella.                                       1885

   LEONOR

   Anda; que te quiere bien,
   Y sé que tiene también
   Gusto de que hables con ella.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Vamos, y de aquí á tu casa Te diré lo que pasó                   1890
   En el río.

   LEONOR

   No fuí yo;
   Que mujer que ya se casa,
   Ha de mostrar más recato
   Del que solía tener.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Es achaque; voy por ver                                          1895
   Aquel caballero ingrato.
   Fuimos Teresa, Juana y Catalina,
   El sábado, Leonor, á Manzanares:
   Si bien yo melancólica y mohina
   De darme este don Juan tantos pesares.                           1900
   De tu dueño las partes imagina;
   Que cuando en su valor, Leonor, repares,
   Presumirás, pues no me he vuelto loca,
   Que soy muy necia ó mi afición es poca.
   Tomé el jabón con tanto desvarío                                 1905
   Para lavar de un bárbaro despojos,
   Que hasta los paños me llevaba el río,
   Mayor con la creciente de mis ojos.
   Cantaban otras con alegre brío,
   Y yo, Leonor, lloraba mis enojos:                                1910
   Lavaba con lo mesmo que lloraba,
   Y al aire de suspiros lo enjugaba.
   Bajaba el sol al agua trasparente,
   Y, el claro rostro en púrpura bañado,
   Las nubes ilustraba de occidente                                 1915
   De aquel vario color tornasolado;
   Cuando, despierta ya del accidente,
   Saqué la ropa, y de uno y otro lado,
   Asiendo los extremos, la torcimos,
   Y á entapizar los tendederos fuimos.                             1920
   Quedando pues por los menudos ganchos
   Las camisas y sábanas tendidas,
   Salieron cuatro mozas de sus ranchos,
   En todo la ribera conocidas;
   Luego, de angostos pies y de hombros anchos,                     1925
   Bigotes altos, perdonando vidas,
   Cuatro mozos: no hablé; que fuera mengua,
   Estando triste el alma, hablar la lengua.
   Tocó, Leonor, Juanilla el instrumento
   Que con cuadrada forma en poco pino,                             1930
   Despide alegre cuanto humilde acento,
   Cubierto de templado pergamino;
   Á cuyo son, que retumbaba el viento,
   Cantaba de un ingenio peregrino,
   En seguidillas, con destreza extraña,                            1935
   Pensamientos que envidia Italia á España.
   Bailaron luego hilando castañetas
   Lorenza y Justa y un galán barbero
   Que mira á Inés, haciendo más corvetas
   Que el Conde ayer en el caballo overo.                           1940
   ¡Oh celos! todos sois venganza y tretas,
   Pues porque ví bajar el caballero
   Que adora de tu dueño la belleza,
   No le quise alegrar con mi tristeza.
   Entré en el baile con desgaire y brío,                           1945
   Que, admirándole ninfas y mozuelos,
   «¡Vítor!» dijeron, celebrando el mío:
   Y era que amor bailaba con los celos.
   Estando en esto, el contrapuesto río
   Se mueve á ver dos ángeles, dos cielos,                          1950
   Que á la Casa del Campo (Dios los guarde)
   Iban á ser auroras por la tarde.
   ¿No has visto á el agua, al súbito granizo
   Esparcirse el ganado en campo ameno
   Ó volar escuadrón espantadizo                                    1955
   De las palomas, en oyendo el trueno?
   Pues de la misma suerte se deshizo
   El cerco bailador, de amantes lleno,
   En oyendo que honraban la campaña
   Felipe y Isabel, gloria de España.                               1960
   ¿No has visto en un jardín de varias flores
   La primavera en cuadros retratada,
   Que por la variedad de las colores,
   Aun no tienen color determinada,
   Y en medio ninfas provocando amores?                             1965
   Pues así se mostraba dilatada
   La escuadra hermosa de las damas bellas,
   Flores las galas y las ninfas ellas.
   Yo, que estaba arrobada, les decía
   Á los reyes de España: «Dios os guarde,                          1970
   Y extienda vuestra heroica monarquía
   Del clima helado á el que se abrasa y arde;»
   Cuando veo que dice: «Isabel mía,»
   Á mi lado don Juan; y tan cobarde
   Me hallé á los ecos de su voz, que luego                         1975
   Fué hielo el corazón, las venas fuego.
   «Traidor, respondo, tus iguales mira;
   Que yo soy una pobre labradora.»
   Y diciendo y haciendo, envuelta en ira,
   Sigo la puente, y me arrepiento agora:                           1980
   Verdad es que le siento que suspira
   Tal vez desde la noche hasta el aurora;
   Mas recelo, si va á decir verdades,
   Lo que se sigue á celos y amistades.      (_Vanse._)




   ESCENA IV

   Sala en casa de doña Ana.

   DOÑA MARÍA, LEONOR; _después_, DOÑA ANA _y_ JUANA


   LEONOR

   Á mi casa hemos llegado:                                         1985
   Después, que no puedo agora,
   Porque viene mi Señora,
   Te diré lo que ha pasado
   Por los celos en los dos.

   (_Salen doña Ana y Juana._)

   DOÑA ANA

   ¿Ésta dices?

   JUANA

   Ésta es.                                                         1990

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Dadme, Señora, los pies.

   DOÑA ANA

   Isabel, guárdela Dios.
   ¿Qué se ofrece por acá?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Quiéreme hacer su madrina
   Leonor, que no me imagina                                        1995
   Desacomodada ya.

   DOÑA ANA

   ¿No está ya con el indiano?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No, Señora.

   DOÑA ANA

   Pues ¿por qué?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Cierto atrevimiento fué,
   De hombre al fin; pero fué en vano.                              2000

   DOÑA ANA

   ¿Cómo, cómo, por mi vida?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Pudiera estar satisfecho
   De mi honor y de mi pecho:
   De mi honor por bien nacida,
   De mi pecho porque, habiendo                                     2005
   Entrado por los balcones
   Una noche tres ladrones,
   Que ya le estaban pidiendo
   Las llaves, tomé su espada,
   Y aunque ya se defendieron,                                      2010
   Por la ventana salieron,
   Y esto á pura cuchillada.
   Pero obligándole á amor
   Lo que pudiera á respeto,
   Me llamó una noche, á efeto                                      2015
   De no respetar mi honor.
   Que le descalzase fué
   La invención: llego á su cama,
   Donde sentado me llama,
   Y humilde le descalcé.                                           2020
   Pero echándome los brazos,
   Tan descortés procedió,
   Que á arrojarle me obligó
   Donde le hiciera pedazos.
   Mas de aquellos desatinos                                        2025
   Sus zapatos me vengaron,
   Cuyas voces despertaron
   La mitad de los vecinos.
   Y aunque culpando el rigor,
   Poniéndose de por medio,                                         2030
   Celebraron el remedio
   Para quitarle el amor.

   DOÑA ANA

   Notable debes de ser.
   Cierto que te tengo amor.

   JUANA

   Es el servicio mejor                                             2035
   Y la más limpia mujer
   De cuantas andan aquí.
   Ruégale que esté contigo.

   DOÑA ANA

   ¿No querrás estar conmigo,
   Isabel?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Señora, sí.                                                      2040

   DOÑA ANA

   ¿Qué sabes hacer?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Lavar,
   Masar, cocer y traer
   Agua.

   DOÑA ANA

   ¿No sabrás coser?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Bien sé coser y labrar.

   DOÑA ANA

   Pues eso será mejor.                                             2045
   Manto y tocas te daré.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Señora, yo no sabré
   Servir de dueña de honor.
   Éste es un hábito agora
   De cierta desdicha mía,                                          2050
   Que vos sabréis algún día. (_Vase._)

   JUANA

   Aquí está don Juan, Señora.




   ESCENA V

   DON JUAN, MARTÍN.--DOÑA ANA, LEONOR, JUANA


   DON JUAN

   Siempre soy embajador.
   El Conde os pide licencia,
   Y dice que de su ausencia                                        2055
   Fué causa vuestro rigor;
   Que tratáis tan mal su amor,
   Que ya toma por partido,
   En la caza divertido,
   Solicitar á su daño                                              2060
   Una manera de engaño
   Que á los dos parezca olvido:
   Á vos excusando el veros,
   Y á él, Señora, el cansaros.
   Pero no quiere engañaros                                         2065
   Ni olvidarse de quereros:
   Visitaros y ofenderos
   Es fuerza para serviros.
   Esto me manda deciros:
   Mirad si le dais licencia;                                       2070
   Que le cuesta vuestra ausencia
   Cuantos instantes, suspiros.

   DOÑA ANA

   Vos venís en ocasión
   Que os he hecho un gran servicio:
   Á lo menos es indicio                                            2075
   De ésta mi loca pasión.
   Mirad en qué obligación
   Os pone el haber traído
   Á mi casa quien ha sido
   Lo que tanto habéis amado;                                       2080
   Que os quiero ver obligado,
   Pues no puedo agradecido.
   Volved los ojos, veréis
   Á Isabel, que viene aquí,
   No para servirme á mí,                                           2085
   Sino á que vos la mandéis;
   Que no quiero que os canséis
   En buscarla en fuente ó prado.
   Mirad si estáis obligado,
   Y cómo he sabido hacer                                           2090
   Que vos me vengáis á ver,
   No como hasta aquí, forzado.

   DON JUAN

   De vuestra queja os prometo
   Que es el Conde, mi señor,
   La causa, cuyo valor                                             2095
   Únicamente respeto;
   Porque ¿cuál hombre discreto
   No conociera y amara
   De vuestra belleza rara
   La divina perfección,                                            2100
   Y el discurso á la razón,
   Y á vos el alma negara?
   Con esto la puse en quien
   La misma desigualdad
   Disculpe la voluntad,                                            2105
   Para no quereros bien.
   Mas no me pidáis que os den
   Gracias de haberla traído
   Mis ojos; que antes ha sido
   Para no poderla ver,                                             2110
   Pues testigo habéis de ser,
   Y yo menos atrevido.




   ESCENA VI

   EL CONDE.--DICHOS


   CONDE

   Tanto la licencia tarda,
   Que sin ella vengo á veros.

   DOÑA ANA

   Conde, mi señor, disculpa.                                       2115
   De ausencia de tanto tiempo.--
   Llega una silla, Isabel.

   DON JUAN

   Aquí me estaban riñendo
   Tu ausencia.

   CONDE

   ¡Buena criada!
   Y nueva; que no me acuerdo                                       2120
   Haberla visto otra vez.

   DOÑA ANA

   ¡Buena cara, gentil cuerpo!
   ¿No es muy linda?

   CONDE

   ¡Sí, por Dios!

   DOÑA ANA

   De que os agrade me huelgo;
   Que es la dama de don Juan.                                      2125

   CONDE

   Si es así el entendimiento,
   Disculpa tiene mi primo.
   Verla más de espacio quiero.--
   Pasad, Señora, adelante,
   ¿De dónde sois?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No sé cierto;                                                    2130
   Porque ha mucho que no soy.

   CONDE

   Partes en la moza veo,
   Que en otro traje pudieran,
   Con el donaire y aseo,
   Dar, fuera de vuestros ojos,                                     2135
   Á muchos envidia y celos.
   Mi primo es tan singular,
   Que por bizarría ha puesto
   Las preferencias del gusto
   En tan bajos fundamentos.                                        2140

   MARTÍN

   Á mí responder me toca.
   Perdónenme si me atrevo,
   Por el honor del fregado,
   La opinión del lavadero,
   Del cántaro y el jabón;                                          2145
   Que más de cuatro manteos,
   De ésos con esteras de oro,
   Cubren algunos defetos.

   DOÑA ANA

   Cásase Martín agora
   Con mi Leonor, y por eso                                         2150
   Siente que vueseñoría
   Haga de don Juan desprecio.

   DON JUAN

   ¡Dar en el pobre don Juan!

   CONDE

   Huélgome del casamiento.
   Y ¿seréis vos la madrina?                                        2155
   Porque ser padrino quiero.

   DOÑA ANA

   No, Señor, que es Isabel;
   Que pienso que ha mucho tiempo
   Que ella y Leonor son amigas.

   CONDE

   Pues tócale de derecho                                           2160
   Ser el padrino á don Juan.

   DON JUAN

   Basta; que estáis de concierto
   Todos contra mí. Pues vaya;
   Que el ser el padrino aceto.

   CONDE

   ¿Cómo calla la madrina?                                          2165

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Señor, corto entendimiento
   Presto se ataja, y más donde
   Hay tantos y tan discretos.
   Allá en mi lugar un día
   Un muchacho en un jumento                                        2170
   Llevaba una labradora,
   Y perdonad, que iba en pelo.
   «Hazte allá, que le maltratas,»
   Iba la madre diciendo;
   Y tanto hacia atrás se hizo,                                     2175
   Que dió el muchacho en el suelo.
   Díjole: «¿Cómo caíste?»
   Y disculpóse diciendo:
   «Madre, acabóseme el asno.»
   Así yo, que hablando veo                                         2180
   Á tan discretos señores,
   Hago atrás mi entendimiento,
   Hasta que he venido á dar
   Con el silencio en el suelo.

   MARTÍN (_ap._)

   Tomen lo que se han ganado.                                      2185

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Es el Conde muy discreto,
   Y la señora doña Ana
   Un ángel; pues yo ¿qué puedo
   Decir que no sea ignorancia?

   DOÑA ANA

   Ahora bien, Señor, hablemos                                      2190
   De la ausencia destos días.
   Ya me olvidáis, ya me quejo
   De vos al pasado amor.

   CONDE

   Negocios son, os prometo,
   Que me han tenido ocupado                                        2195
   Por un notable suceso.
   Mató en Ronda cierta dama
   Guzmán y Portocarrero,
   Cuyo padre con el duque
   De Medina tiene deudo,                                           2200
   Un caballero su amante.

   DOÑA ANA

   ¿Con qué ocasión? ¿Fueron celos?

   CONDE

   Desagraviando á su padre
   De un bofetón, porque el viejo
   No estaba para las armas.                                        2205

   DOÑA ANA

   ¡Gran valor!

   DON JUAN

   ¡Valiente esfuerzo!
   Diera por ver á esa dama
   Toda cuanta hacienda tengo.

   DOÑA MARÍA (_ap._)

   Turbada estoy, encubrir
   Puedo apenas lo que siento.                                      2210

   CONDE

   Al fin, perdonó la parte,
   Poniéndose de por medio,
   Entre deudos de unos y otros,
   Muchos nobles caballeros.
   Con esto me ha escrito el Duque,                                 2215
   Por el mismo parentesco,
   Alcance el perdón del Rey;
   Lo que hoy, Señora, se ha hecho.
   Mándame también buscalla,
   Si entre tantos extranjeros                                      2220
   Alguna nueva se hallase,
   Siendo esta corte su centro.
   Mirad si estoy disculpado;
   Y porque me voy con esto,
   Vendré, Señora, á la noche,                                      2225
   Si me dais licencia, á veros.

   DOÑA ANA

   Id con Dios; volvé á la noche.

   CONDE

   Si haré, encanto de Babel.--
   Quedáos con vuestra Isabel; (_Á don Juan._)
   Que yo me voy en el coche.                                       2230

   (_Vanse el Conde, doña Ana y los criados._)




   ESCENA VII

   DOÑA MARÍA, DON JUAN


   DON JUAN

   Alegre, Isabel, estás,
   Que ya el cántaro dejaste,
   Pues con la fe le mudaste,
   Y con el alma, que es más.
   Que desde que te la dí,                                          2235
   De cántaro la tenía,
   Pues pienso que se decía
   Este proverbio por mí.
   Nunca quisiste trocar,
   Cuando yo lo deseaba,                                            2240
   Al hábito que te daba
   El que ya quieres dejar.
   Si cuando yo te rogué,
   Hábito honrado tomaras,
   La voluntad disculparas,                                         2245
   Que baja en tus prendas fué.
   Si el venir aquí son celos,
   Pensando que así me guardas,
   Son, Isabel, sombras pardas
   En ofensa de tus cielos.                                         2250
   ¿Qué guarda de más valor,
   Isabel, que tu hermosura,
   Si ella misma te asegura
   Que merece tanto amor?
   ¡Vive Dios, que te he querido,                                   2255
   Y te quiero y te querré,
   Con tanta firmeza y fe,
   Que vive mi amor corrido
   De no vencer tu rigor,
   Siendo tú tan desigual!                                          2260

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Quien siente bien no habla mal;
   Que para tener valor
   Con que poder igualaros,
   Aunque de vuestro apellido
   Príncipes haya tenido                                            2265
   Italia y Francia tan raros,
   Sóbrame á mí el ser mujer;
   Pero si de vuestro engaño
   Á los dos resulta daño,
   Desengaño habrá de ser.                                          2270
   No estoy contenta de estar
   Donde, con hacer mudanza
   Del hábito, mi esperanza
   Aspire á mejor lugar.
   Ni menos estoy celosa,                                           2275
   Ni os guardo, aunque os he querido;
   Que en este humilde vestido
   Hay un alma generosa,
   Tan soberbia y arrogante,
   Que el cántaro que dejé,                                         2280
   Un cielo en mis hombros fué,
   Como el que sustenta Atlante.
   Yo os quiero bien, aunque soy
   De naturaleza esquiva;
   Pero hay otro amor que priva,                                    2285
   Por quien os dejo y me voy.
   No os dé pena; que os prometo
   Que no hay nieve tan helada;
   Pero he nacido obligada
   Á su amor y á su respeto.                                        2290
   No puedo hacer más por vos
   Que decir que os he querido:
   En fe de lo cual os pido,
   Y del amor de los dos,
   Que una cosa hagáis por mí.                                      2295

   DON JUAN

   ¿Como ausentarte, mi bien?
   Después de tanto desdén,
   ¿Esto merezco de ti?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No excuso, aunque lo sintáis,
   Este camino.

   DON JUAN

   Isabel,                                                          2300
   ¿Qué dices?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Que para él
   Esta joya me vendáis.
   Diamantes son: claro está
   Que justa sospecha diera
   Si á vender diamantes fuera                                      2305
   Mujer que á la fuente va;
   Que con lo que ella valiere,
   Podré á mi casa llegar.

   DON JUAN

   Cuando pensaba esperar,
   Quiere amor que desespere.                                       2310
   ¡Notable desdicha mía!
   ¡Tristes nuevas! ¿Quién amó
   Con la fortuna que yo?
   Mas ¿quién, sino yo, podía?
   Tened la joya y la mano,                                         2315
   Que entrambas diamantes son,
   Si es la mina un corazón
   Tan firme como tirano;
   Que cuando forzosa sea
   Vuestra partida, no soy                                          2320
   Hombre tan vil...

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Si no os doy
   La joya, don Juan, no crea
   Vuestro pecho liberal
   Obligarme con dinero;
   Que, pues de vos no lo quiero,                                   2325
   Bien creeréis que me está mal.
   ¡Oh, qué habréis imaginado
   De cosas, después que visteis
   La joya! Aunque no tuvisteis
   Culpa de haberlas pensado,                                       2330
   Pues yo os he dado ocasión.

   DON JUAN

   Cuando yo, Isabel, pensara
   Tal bajeza, imaginara
   Prendas que más altas son
   De las que tenéis, bastantes                                     2335
   Á abonaros; cuando fuera
   Hurto, mayor le creyera,
   Si fueran almas, diamantes.
   Algo sospecho encubierto,
   Isabel; y en duda igual,                                         2340
   Que sois mujer principal
   Tengo por mayor acierto.
   Que desde el punto que os ví
   Con el cántaro, Isabel,
   Echó amor suertes en él                                          2345
   Para vos y para mí.
   Vos salisteis diferente
   De lo que aquí publicáis,
   Y yo sin dicha si os vais,
   Para que yo muera ausente.                                       2350
   ¿Quién sois, hermosa Isabel?
   Porque cántaro y diamantes
   Son dos cosas muy distantes;
   Que hay mucha bajeza en él,
   Y en vos mucho entendimiento,                                    2355
   Mucha hermosura y valor,
   Mucho respeto al honor,
   Que es más encarecimiento.
   La verdad se encubre en vano;
   Que como al que ayer traía                                       2360
   Guantes de ámbar, otro día,
   Le quedó oliendo la mano;
   Así, quien señora fué,
   Trae aquel olor consigo,
   Aunque del ámbar que digo,                                       2365
   Reliquias muestre por fe.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No os canséis en prevenciones;
   Que yo no os he de engañar.




   ESCENA VIII

   LEONOR.--DICHOS


   LEONOR

   ¿Cuándo piensas acabar,
   Isabel, tantas razones?                                          2370
   Vente á vestir y á vestirme;
   Que mi señora te llama.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Voy á ponerme de dama.

   DON JUAN

   ¿Volverás?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Á despedirme.

   (_Vanse los dos._)




   ESCENA IX


   DON JUAN

   ¿Qué confusión es ésta que levanta                               2375
   Amor en mis sentidos nuevamente,
   Que á tales pensamientos adelanta
   Mi dulce cuanto bárbaro accidente?
   Así el cautivo en la cadena canta,
   Así engañado se entretiene, ausente,                             2380
   De vanas esperanzas, que algún día
   Verá la patria en que vivir solía.
   No con menos temor, menos sosiego,
   Tímido ruiseñor su esposa llama,
   Á quien el plomo en círculos de fuego                            2385
   Quitó la amada vida en verde rama,
   Que mi confuso pensamiento ciego
   En noche obscura los engaños ama,
   Esperando que llegue con el día
   La muerta luz de la esperanza mía.                               2390
   Mas ¿cómo puede haber tales engaños?
   Cómo pensar mi amor que la belleza
   No puede haber nacido en viles paños,
   Si pudo la fealdad en la nobleza?
   Así, para mayores desengaños,                                    2395
   Mostró por variedad naturaleza
   De un espino la flor candida, hermosa,
   Y vestida de púrpura la rosa.
   Que darme yo á entender que la hermosura
   Que ví llevar un cántaro á la fuente,                            2400
   Por engastar el barro en nieve pura
   Del cristal de una mano trasparente,
   No pudo proceder de sangre obscura,
   Y nacer entendida humildemente,
   Es vano error, pues siempre amando veo                           2405
   Calificar bajezas el deseo.
   Pues ¿quién será Isabel, locura mía,
   Con hermosura y prendas celestiales?
   ¡Oh! ¿cuándo resistió tanta porfía
   La bajeza de humildes naturales?                                 2410
   No ha de pasar sin que lo sepa el día.
   Industrias hay; y si por dicha iguales
   Somos los dos, como mi amor desea,
   Tu cántaro, Isabel, mi dote sea.
   No te pienses partir, si por ventura                             2415
   No lo quieres fingir para matarme;
   Que ya no tiene estado mi locura
   Que yo pueda perderte y tú dejarme;
   Que si tienes nobleza y hermosura,
   Del cántaro por armas pienso honrarme;                           2420
   Que con el premio con que ya se trata,
   Amor le volverá de barro en plata. (_Vase._)




   ESCENA X

   Calle.

   MARTÍN, PEDRO


   PEDRO

   Martín, en esta ocasión
   Me habéis desfavorecido:
   Quejoso estoy y ofendido.                                        2425

   MARTÍN

   Pedro, no tenéis razón;
   Que el Conde gusta que sea
   Padrino con Isabel.

   PEDRO

   Ensancharáse con él Cuando á su lado se vea.                     2430
   Yo sé que si
   me casara, Padrino os hiciera á vos.

   MARTÍN

   Yo no pude más, por Dios.

   PEDRO

   Pedro ¿también no la honrara?
   ¿No tengo cueras y sayos,                                        2435
   Capas, calzas, que por yerro
   Quedaron en su destierro
   Vinculadas en lacayos?
   Pues ¡por el agua de Dios,
   Aunque poca me ha cabido,                                        2440
   Que soy yo tan bien nacido!...

   MARTÍN

   ¿Quién pudiera como vos
   Honrarme con Isabel?

   PEDRO

   ¿Hay hidalgo en Mondoñedo
   Que pueda, como yo puedo,                                        2445
   Volver la silla á el dosel?

   MARTÍN

   Dejad el enojo ya;
   Y pues que sois entendido,
   Decidme si acierto ha sido
   Casarme.

   PEDRO

   Pues claro está;                                                 2450
   Que es muy honrada Leonor,
   Aunque pide más caudal
   La talega de la sal,
   Que anda el tiempo á el rededor.
   Mas queriendo el Conde bien                                      2455
   Á doña Ana, por Leonor
   Os hará siempre favor,
   Y ella ayudará también
   De su parte á vuestra casa.

   MARTÍN

   Pues con eso pasaremos.                                          2460

   PEDRO

   ¿Quién queréis que convidemos?

   MARTÍN

   No lo excusa quien se casa.
   Á Rodríguez lo primero,
   Á Galindo y á Butrón,
   Á Lorenzo y á Ramón,                                             2465
   Y á Pierres, buen compañero.

   PEDRO

   Haced llevar un menudo;
   Que no hay hueso que dejar.

   MARTÍN

   Eso es darles de cenar.

   PEDRO

   En esta ocasión no dudo                                          2470
   De que tendrán los señores
   Arriba gran colación.

   MARTÍN

   Por allá conservas son
   Y confites de colores.

   PEDRO

   Lobos de marca mayor                                             2475
   Tendremos en cantidad.

   MARTÍN

   Pedro, ésa es enfermedad
   Que no ha menester doctor. (_Vanse._)




   ESCENA XI

   Sala en casa de doña Ana.

   DOÑA ANA, DON JUAN


   DON JUAN

   Yo pienso que es condición,
   Y no amor, vuestra porfía.                                       2480

   DOÑA ANA

   Y ¿quién sin amor podía
   Sufrir tanta sinrazón?

   DON JUAN

   No es sinrazón la ocasión
   Que me fuerza á no querer
   Lo que del Conde ha de ser.                                      2485




   ESCENA XII

   EL CONDE, _que se queda escuchando sin que le vean_.--DICHOS.


   CONDE (_ap._)

   Necios celos me han traído
   De un deudo amigo fingido
   Y de una ingrata mujer.

   DON JUAN

   Cuando no os quisiera bien
   El Conde, mil almas fueran                                       2490
   Las que estos ojos os dieran.

   DOÑA ANA

   ¡Oh, mal haya el Conde, amén!

   CONDE (_ap._)

   Don Juan la muestra desdén,
   Y ella á don Juan solicita.

   DOÑA ANA

   Con oro en mármol escrita                                        2495
   Tiene el amor una ley,
   Que como absoluto rey,
   No hay traición que no permita.
   Demás, que esto no es traición;
   Que nunca yo quise al Conde.                                     2500

   CONDE (_ap._)

   En lo que agora responde
   Conoceré su intención.

   DON JUAN

   Ninguna loca afición
   Que se haya visto ni escrito,
   Ha disculpado el delito                                          2505
   Del amigo; que el valor
   Es resistir á el amor,
   Y vencer á el apetito.
   Que yo con vos me casara
   Es sin duda, si pudiera.                                         2510

   DOÑA ANA

   Y ¿si el Conde lo quisiera,
   Y aun él mismo os lo mandara?

   DON JUAN

   Entonces es cosa clara;
   Mas cierta podéis estar
   Que no me lo ha de mandar.                                       2515
   Y así, me voy; que no quiero
   Dar á tan gran caballero
   Ni sospecha ni pesar.

   CONDE

   Detente.

   DON JUAN

   Si habéis oído
   Lo que ya sospecho aquí,                                         2520
   Pienso que estaréis de mí
   Seguro y agradecido.

   CONDE

   Todo lo tengo entendido;
   Y si por quereros bien
   Trata mi amor con desdén                                         2525
   Doña Ana, no ha sido culpa,
   Porque sois vos la disculpa,
   Y mi desdicha también.
   Dice que sabe de mí
   Que os mandaré que os caséis:                                    2530
   Dice bien, y vos lo haréis,
   Porque yo os lo mando así.
   Que á saber, cuando la ví,
   Que os tenía tanto amor,
   No la amara; aunque en rigor                                     2535
   Fué engañado pensamiento
   Que con tal entendimiento
   No escogiese lo mejor.

   DON JUAN

   Aunque á Alejandro imitéis
   En darme lo que estimáis,                                        2540
   Ni como Apeles me halláis,
   Ni enamorado me veis,
   Ni vos mandarme podéis
   Que sea lo que no fuí;
   Pues cuando pudiera aquí                                         2545
   Ser lo que no puede ser,
   No quisiera yo querer
   Á quien os deja por mí.

   DOÑA ANA

   Quedo, quedo; que no soy
   Tan del Conde, que me dé,                                        2550
   Ni tan de don Juan, que esté
   Menos contenta ayer que hoy.
   Libre, á mí misma me doy,
   Y daré luego, si quiero,
   Á un honrado caballero                                           2555
   Mujer y cien mil ducados,
   Sin suegros y sin cuñados,
   Que es otro tanto dinero.




   ESCENA XIII

   DOÑA MARÍA, _de madrina y muy bizarra, con_ LEONOR, _de la mano_;
   MARTÍN, PEDRO, LORENZO, BERNAL _y_ OTROS LACAYOS, _muy galanes_;
   ACOMPAÑAMIENTO DE MUJERES DE LA BODA, MÚSICOS.


   MÚSICOS (_cantan_)

   _En la villa de Madrid
   Leonor y Martín se casan:                                        2560
   Corren toros y juegan cañas._

   MARTÍN

   ¡Mala letra para novios!

   PEDRO

   Pues ¿no os agrada la letra?

   MARTÍN

   Correr toros y casarme
   Paréceme á los que llevan                                        2565
   Pronósticos para el año
   Dos meses antes que venga.

   CONDE

   Gallarda viene la novia;
   Pero quien no conociera
   Á Isabel, imaginara,                                             2570
   Viéndola grave y compuesta,
   Que era mujer principal.

   DOÑA ANA

   Juzgarse puede por ella
   Cuánto las galas importan,
   Cuánto adorna la riqueza.                                        2575

   CONDE

   ¡Qué perdido está don Juan!

   DOÑA ANA

   ¡Qué admirado la contempla!

   CONDE

   Por Dios, que tiene disculpa
   De estimarla y de quererla;
   Que la gravedad fingida                                          2580
   Parece tan verdadera,
   Que, á no conocerla yo
   Y saber sus bajas prendas,
   Hiciera un alto conceto
   De su gallarda presencia.                                        2585

   DON JUAN

   (_Para sí._ Amor, si en esta mujer
   No está oculta la nobleza,
   La calidad y la sangre
   Que por lo exterior se muestra,
   ¿Qué es lo que quiso sin causa                                   2590
   Hacer la naturaleza,
   Pues pudiendo en un cristal
   Guarnecido de oro y piedras,
   Puso en un vaso de barro
   Alma tan ilustre y bella?                                        2595
   Yo estoy perdido y confuso,
   Doña Ana celosa de ella,
   El Conde suspenso, hurtando
   Á su gravedad respuesta.
   Ella se parte mañana,                                            2600
   Diamantes me da que venda;
   ¿Qué tienen que ver diamantes
   Con la fingida bajeza?
   Pues ¿he de quedar así,
   Amor, sin alma y sin ella?                                       2605
   ¿No alcanza el ingenio industria?
   No suele en dudosas pruebas,
   Por las inciertas mentiras,
   Hallarse verdades ciertas?
   Ahora bien; no ha de partirse                                    2610
   Isabel sin que se entienda
   Si en exteriores tan graves
   Hay algún alma secreta.)
   Conde, el más alto poder
   Que reconoce la tierra,                                          2615
   El cetro, la monarquía,
   La corona, la grandeza
   Del mayor rey de los hombres,
   Todas las historias cuentan,
   Todos los sabios afirman,                                        2620
   Todos los ejemplos muestran
   Que es amor; pues siendo así,
   Y que ninguno lo niega,
   Que yo por amor me case,
   Que yo por amor me pierda,                                       2625
   No es justo que á nadie admire,
   Pues cuantos viven confiesan
   Que es amor una pasión
   Incapaz de resistencia.
   Yo no soy mármol, si bien                                        2630
   No soy yo quien me gobierna;
   Que obedecen á Isabel
   Mis sentidos y potencias.
   Cuando esto en público digo,
   No quiero que nadie pueda                                        2635
   Contradecirme el casarme,
   Pues hoy me caso con ella.
   Sed testigos que le doy
   La mano.

   CONDE

   ¿Qué furia es ésta?

   DOÑA ANA

   Loco se ha vuelto don Juan.                                      2640

   CONDE

   ¡Vive Dios, que si es de veras,
   Que antes os quite la vida
   Que permitir tal bajeza!
   ¡Hola! Criados, echad
   Esta mujer hechicera                                             2645
   Por un corredor, matadla.

   DON JUAN

   Ninguno, infames, se atreva;
   Que le daré de estocadas.

   CONDE

   Un hombre de vuestras prendas
   ¡Quiere infamar su linaje!                                       2650

   DON JUAN

   ¡Ay Dios! Su bajeza es cierta,
   Pues calla en esta ocasión.
   Ya no es posible que pueda
   Ser más de lo que parece.

   CONDE

   ¿Con cien mil ducados deja                                       2655
   Un hombre loco mujer,
   Que me casara con ella,
   Si amor me hubiera tenido?

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Quedo, Conde; que me pesa
   De que me deis ocasión                                           2660
   De hablar.

   DON JUAN (_ap._)

   ¡Ay Dios! ¡Si ya llega
   Algún desengaño mío!

   DOÑA MARÍA

   No está la boda tan hecha
   Como os parece, Señor;
   Porque falta que yo quiera.                                      2665
   Para igualar a don Juan,
   ¿Bastaba ser vuestra deuda
   Y del duque de Medina?

   CONDE

   Bastaba, si verdad fuera.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   ¿Quién fué la dama de Ronda                                      2670
   Que mató, por la defensa
   De su padre, un caballero,
   Cuyo perdón se concierta
   Por vos, y que vos buscáis?

   CONDE

   Doña María, á quien deban                                        2675
   Respeto cuantas historias
   Y hechos de mujeres cuentan.

   DOÑA MARÍA

   Pues yo soy doña María,
   Que por andar encubierta...

   DON JUAN

   No prosigas relaciones,                                          2680
   Porque son personas necias,
   Que en noche de desposados
   Hasta las doce se quedan.
   Dame tu mano y tus brazos.

   MARTÍN

   Leonor, á escuras nos dejan.                                     2685
   Los padrinos son los novios.

   DOÑA ANA

   Justo será que lo sean
   El Conde y doña Ana.

   CONDE

   Aquí
   Puso fin á la comedia
   Quien, si perdiere este pleito,                                  2690
   _Apela á Mil y Quinientas_.
   Mil y quinientas ha escrito:
   Bien es que perdón merezca.




NOTES


ACT I

=Ronda.= A city of about 20,000 in Southern Spain, founded by the Romans
and occupied for many centuries by the Moors. On account of its history
and its natural beauty it is one of the most interesting cities in
Spain.

1. =Es cosa... de risa=, _It is enough to make one die of laughter._

3. =Lüisa=, spelled with the dieresis for metrical reasons.

4. =Narcisos.= Now a common noun and written with a small letter. In
origin the word is derived from the mythological character, Narcissus,
the son of the river Cephissus and the nymph Liriope. He was insensible
to the charms of all the nymphs, who at last appealed to Nemesis for
revenge. She made him fall in love with his own image reflected in a
fountain; because he could not grasp it he longed for death and,
according to Ovid, was metamorphosed into the flower which bears his
name. A century before Lope it had evidently not yet passed into such
common usage, for in the _Celestina_ we read: "Por fe tengo que no era
tan hermoso aquel gentil Narciso, que se enamoró de su propia figura
cuando se vido en las aguas de la fuente." (_Novelistas Anteriores á
Cervantes_, p. 25.)

8. =consultas= are reports or advice submitted to a ruler, hence the use
of _alteza_.

10. =entre otras partes.= The Parisian edition of 1886, for no evident
reason, reads, entre otros partes.

12. =el duque de Medina.= Gaspar Alonzo de Guzmán, duque de
Medina-Sidonia, was a relative of Olivares and head of the great house
of Guzmán of which the prime minister was a descendant through a younger
branch. He was immensely wealthy and enjoyed high favor at court during
the first years of the reign of Philip IV. Later, as governor of
Andalusia, he conceived the idea of establishing a separate kingdom, as
his brother-in-law, Juan de Braganza, had done in Portugal in 1640. His
plans were discovered and as punishment and humiliation he was compelled
to challenge the king of Portugal to a duel for the aid the latter was
to give to the projected uprising in Andalusia. He made the journey to
the Portuguese border only to find that Braganza had ignored his
challenge. Covered with ridicule by the affair he passed the rest of his
life in obscurity and disgrace. At the time Lope de Vega was writing _La
Moza de Cántaro_ he seems to have been seeking the favor of Olivares and
therefore made the leading character of the play a relative of the
favorite and the Duque de Medina-Sidonia.

16. =Señora= is now regularly written in such cases with a small letter,
as well as similar titles hereafter encountered in the play.

17. =Lindamente... vanidad=, _You know my weakness! You are trying to
flatter me._

21. =Sevilla=, the metropolis of Andalusia and a city always noted for the
beauty of its women.

29. =Éste.= Supply _papel_ as suggested by line 3.

35. =quiere en la memoria de la muerte=, etc., that is, after he has died
for her.

After 40. =Con hermoso=, etc. The author evidently intends to make the
suitor write a wordy letter void of clear meaning, and that he is
striking a blow at the then popular literary affectation known as
_culteranismo_ is indicated beyond a doubt by the word _culto_ in line
43. A comparison of the passage with Cervantes' celebrated quotation
from Feliciano de Silva, "La razón de la sinrazón" is interesting. (See
_Don Quijote_, Part I, Chap. I.) A possible translation of the letter is
as follows: "With fair though stern, not sweet, yet placid countenance,
lady mine, appearances deceiving you, there gazed at me last week your
disdain, imbued with all benevolence and yet rigid, and withal its
brilliancy not solicitous, (benevolence) which with celestial candor
illumines your face."

44. =¿Habla de aciértame aquí?= The imperative is used here as a noun
after the preposition and the verse is approximately equivalent to the
expression "Habla de alguna adivinanza aquí?"

54. =¿Qué nada te ha de agradar?= _Can nothing please you?_

58. =Yo no tengo de querer.= _Tener de_ is used here where we should now
expect _haber de_ or _tener que_.

62. =Flandes.= In the time of Lope de Vega Spain held the Netherlands and
constantly maintained a large force there.

64. Zerolo's edition has a comma instead of a period at the end of this
line. Either punctuation makes good sense.

66. =que yo... aquí=, _for of all those who appear here I do not see one
to whom I should direct my favor_.

70. =si va á decir verdad=, _if the truth be told_.

79. =ansí=, middle Spanish and archaic form of _así_. Cf. the French
_ainsi_.

92. =La primera necedad=, etc., _They say that the greatest folly is not
the one to be feared, but those which follow it seeking to undo it._

95. =deshacella==_deshacerla_. In earlier Spanish verse the assimilation
of the r of the infinitive is quite common.

107. =Muchas se casan aprisa=, etc. Compare the English proverb of similar
purport, "Marry in haste and repent at leisure."

121. =dél==_de él_. A contraction no longer approved by the Spanish
Academy.

124. =Pedro el Cruel= (1334-1369) was proclaimed king of Castile at
Seville in 1350 after the death of his father, Alphonso XI. He early
became infatuated with María de Padilla, but was made to marry against
his will Blanche de Bourbon whom he immediately put aside. Pedro then
plunged into a career of crime seldom equaled in Spanish history.
Several times he was dethroned but always succeeded in regaining the
scepter. He was finally killed by his own brother, Henry of Trastamare,
at Montiel. Pedro's meritorious works were his successful efforts to
break down the feudal aristocracy and his encouragement of arts,
commerce and industry.

133. =Don Diego de noche y coche.= The implication is that don Diego is
one who would woo his lady love at night and under the cover of a
carriage rather than in the more open and approved manner of a gentleman
of his rank. In spite of the brilliant example of the king, horsemanship
was becoming a lost art and in a complaint of a member of the Cortes,
addressed to the king, the subject is treated as follows: "The art of
horsemanship is dying out, and those who ought to be mounted crowd, six
or eight of them together, in a coach, talking to wenches rather than
learning how to ride. Very different gentlemen, indeed, will they grow
up who have all their youth been lolling about in coaches instead of
riding." (Martin Hume, _The Court of Philip IV_, p. 130.) There is also
a flower called _dondiego de noche_, and the author may have intended to
make also a subtle play on words between this and the more suggestive
meaning.

138. =De noche visiones.= "Thoughts of him at night give me the
nightmare!"

Stage directions: =hábito de Santiago:= The order of Santiago is one of
the oldest and most distinguished of all the Spanish military orders. It
is said to have been approved by the Pope in 1175 and had during the
middle ages great military power. The right to confer it is now vested
in the crown of Spain. The badge is a red enamel cross, in the form of a
sword with a scallop-shell at the junction of the arms.

174. =agora=, archaic and poetic word, synonym of _ahora_ which is of
similar origin. _Hac hora > agora_ and _ad horam > ahora_.

180. =primer licencia.= The apocapation of the feminine of the adjective
_primero_ is not admissible in modern Spanish.

181. =Duque=, that is, the Duque de Medina. See v. 12 and note.

188. =Lugar... deba=, _A place which is certainly its due._

192. =la Plaza= mentioned here is evidently the Plaza de la Ciudad, which
is the center of the ancient part of the city.

197. =Sanlúcar= (de Barrameda) is an important and interesting seaport
town at the mouth of the Guadalquivir. It was taken from the Moors in
1264 and occupied a prominent position during the 15th and 16th
centuries. Columbus sailed from this point in 1498 on his third voyage
to the New World. Lope makes Sanlúcar the scene of part of his _Nuevo
Mundo descubierto por Cristóbal Colón_ and mentions it in a number of
his other plays.

198. =Le respondí=, etc. Don Bernardo's reply was intended to reveal
delicately to the lover that his suit was not favored by the Duke.

228. =Aquí su mano soberbia...= For an analogous situation compare Guillen
de Castro's _las Mocedades del Cid_ and its French counterpart,
Corneille's _le Cid_.

231. =que tantas veces=, etc., _because an insult is renewed as many times
as he who receives it tells it to him who ignores it_.

236. =con cinco letras=, that is, the five fingers of the hand which had
left its imprint on his face.

245. =á el afrentado=. Not a little laxity in the observance of the rule
for the contraction of the preposition and the definite article is to be
noted throughout the play.

252. It is to be observed in a number of instances in the text that the
initial exclamation and interrogation marks are often omitted before
exclamations and interrogations if they follow other similar
constructions.

301. =si sois servido=, _if you please_.

310. =La decid.= Modern usage generally requires the object after the
imperative in such a case as this, but the license may occur in poetry.

324. =Desta==_De esta_.

337. =quien.= Translate in the plural. Concerning this doubtful usage we
have the following from one of the best known modern authorities: "En el
siglo XIV caía ya en desuso _qui_, por inútil duplicado de _quien_; éste
en el siglo XVI se creó un plural: _quienes_, que aunque calificado de
inelegante por Ambrosio de Salazar en 1622, se generalizó, si bien aun
hoy día se dice alguna vez 'los pocos ó muchos de _quien_ ha tenido que
valerse.'" (Menéndez Pidal, _Manual elemental de gramática histórica
española_, p. 176.)

354. =Y sobre seguro, fácil=, _And besides sure, easy._ The assonance of
final unaccented _i_ with final unaccented _e_ is permissible.

362. =Quien supo=, etc., _If anyone could determine to be yours there can
be nothing to put off your pleasure._

409. =¿Hay tal gracia de monjil?= _Is there anything so graceful in
widow's weeds? monjil_, "mourning garments."

413. =sugeto==_sujeto_.

441. =el río.= The Manzanares, a stream which rises in the Sierra de
Guadarrama and flows by Madrid, emptying into the Jarama, which in turn
flows into the Tajo a short distance east of Toledo. In the eyes of the
_madrileños_ this stream assumes importance which its size scarcely
merits. Its banks have been the scene of festivities from the early days
of the city to the present time. In the time of Lope de Vega the banks
of the Manzanares and its dry bed were, as a place for promenading, in
the same class as the Prado, the Plaza Mayor and the Calle Mayor, and
during the great heat of summer the populace of all classes sought
refuge here. Lope makes frequent reference to the stream in many of his
works.

477. =Muriósele á una casada=, _A woman's husband died._

482. =Y sin que=, etc., _And without fulfilling the obsequies_ (_as
requested_). _Manda_, lit., "legacy, bequest"; but _cumplir la manda_,
"to observe the religious rites (according to the will of the
deceased)."

484. =vertiendo poleo=, _putting on airs_. _Poleo_, "strutting gait,
pompous style."

485. =reverendo coche=, _elegant carriage_. _Reverendo_, lit., "worthy of
reverence," but here fam., "worthy of a prelate." Many of the higher
clergy formerly lived in princely style.

499. =Porque no vuelva el marido=, _Lest the husband might return._

519. =variar=, in Zerolo's edition, is _varïar_, as it should be in order
to fill out the verse.

521. =De mi condición=, etc. An interesting parallel to the idea of this
passage is found in the following from Voltaire: "Il m'a toujours paru
évident que le violent Achille, l'épée nue, et ne se battant point,
vingt héros dans la même attitude comme des personnages de tapisserie,
Agamemnon, roi des rois, n'imposant à personnes, immobile dans le
tumulte, formeraient un spectacle assez semblable au cercle de la reine
en cire colorée par Benoît." ("Art dramatique" in the _Dictionnaire
Philosophique_.)

522. =Que me pudren=, etc., _That paintings vex me._ Note peculiar sense
of pudrir.

529. =Susana.= In the thirteenth chapter of Daniel is narrated the story
of Susanna, the beautiful wife of Joachim, of whom two old men, judges
during the Babylonian captivity, were enamored. They surprised her one
day in her bath in the garden and, because she repelled their advances,
testified that they had found her with a young man. She was condemned to
death, but on the way to her execution Daniel intervened and by a clever
ruse succeeded in convicting the two old men of bearing false witness.
They were put to death and the innocence of Susanna proclaimed. The
story has furnished a theme for many painters and from it many notable
works have been produced, of which several existed in the time of Lope
de Vega. In the _Obras Sueltas_, vol. IV, p. 450, there is a sonnet, _Á
una Tabla de Susana_, which begins:

Tu que la tabla de Susana miras,
Si del retrato la verdad ignoras,
La historia santa justamente adoras,
La retratada injustamente admiras.

541. =Como visto=, etc., _If she had not seen you an excuse would be easy
to find._

545. =Llama.= From this word it would seem that this part of the play is
enacted in front of the house of doña Ana.

547. =No lo echemos á perder=, _Let us not spoil it._

576. =No me tengo de sentar=, _I must not sit down._ Cf. v. 58 and note.

587. =comenzamos... jugadores=, _we begin by a 'rifa,' which results, as
in a love-affair, that it is the third party who starts the game or at
least arouses the interest of the players_. The word _rifa_ is usually
used in the sense of the English word "raffle" or "auction," as for
example the _baile de rifa_ narrated in Alarcón's _El Niño de la Bola_,
but Lope seems to use it here referring to a game of cards. It is used
as a term at cards in Portuguese. The same word from another source
means a "quarrel"; the author evidently had them both in mind and makes
a play upon them.

595. =Terciando mi primo el juego=, _My cousin being the third party in
the game._

634. =Puesto que fué de mayor=, _Since it was by one who had attained his
majority._

638. =Que encaje el marfil ansí=, _Who is as clever. Encajar el marfil_,
"to manipulate, falsify." A possible proverbial reference to the
corruption among government department employees of the time.

655. =Si fuere parte á obligaros=, _If it will be sufficient to oblige
you._

664. =Cayó el pez en el anzuelo=, _The fish has been hooked._

666. =aquesto==_esto_. The old form is used now only in poetry.

695. =efeto==_efecto_.

699. =Cuando él... sido=, _If he should have favored me my favor would
have been so_ (i.e. too great).

714. =quisistes==_quisisteis_. The obsolete form continued in general
usage up to the 17th century and was still used by Calderón, though a
grammar gave the modern form as early as 1555. See Menéndez Pidal's
_Manual elemental de gramática histórica española_, pp. 189, 190.

745. =Adamuz= is a town of about five thousand inhabitants, situated in
the mountains twenty-five miles northeast of Cordova in the midst of a
prosperous olive-growing country. It has a church, three schools, two
inns, an Ayuntamiento and two religious communities. There is a local
tradition to the effect that Adamuz, several centuries ago, boasted of a
population of about twenty thousand and was one of the important centers
of the Sierra Morena, and that it was swept by an epidemic which carried
away almost the entire population. However, nothing exists in the
archives of the Ayuntamiento to confirm or deny the tradition. (For all
the information concerning the town and its vicinity, the editor is
indebted to the kindness of the Reverend Señor José Melendo, curate of
Adamuz.)

748. =Adamuz, pueblo sin luz.= This refrain is not now current in the
place and its origin cannot be definitely determined. It may be a
reflection upon the state of intelligence of the inhabitants of the town
and a pure creation of the poet, but rather would it seem to be due to
the natural features of the town, for it is situated in a fold of the
mountains.

750. =Sierra-Morena= is a mountainous region extending from east to west
from the head waters of the Guadalquivir to the Portuguese border. It is
mentioned in many of the Spanish romances and is assured of immortality
as the scene of some of the adventures of the "ingenioso hidalgo" Don
Quijote.

768. =El término perdonad.= The innkeeper regarded the _indiano_ as a
person of distinction and offers apology for mentioning in his presence
anything so lowly as a _caballo de alabarda_, "nag, hack."

770. =propria==_propia_.

793. =camino real.= A good road now extends from Cordova to Adamuz, but it
does not cross the Sierra Morena. If such a royal highway from Andalusia
to Madrid ever existed it has long since disappeared and given place to
the railways and the important "carretera" which extends up the
Guadalquivir and through the Puerto de Despeñaperros.

813. =Bien está lo hecho=, _What is done is well done._

824. =Holofernes... Judit.= The comparison suggested is based upon the
story related in the Book of Judith of the Bible. Judith determined to
free the children of Israel from the invading Assyrians under the
leadership of Holofernes and for this purpose went to the camp of
Holofernes who received her kindly and celebrated her coming with
feasting. When he was sufficiently under the influence of wine she cut
off his head and carried it back with her to her own people who pursued
the leaderless and disorganized Assyrians and gained a complete victory
over them.

835. =érades==_erais_. This obsolete form of the verb was often used by
Lope de Vega and his contemporaries. It is from the Latin _eratis_. (See
Menéndez Pidal, _Manual elemental de gramática histórica española_,
paragraph 107, I.)

838. =Granada=, the most historic city of Southern Spain and the last
stronghold of the Moors.

868. =El camino de Granada=, etc. The more probable route from Granada to
the capital would have taken her some distance east of Adamuz.

876. =Traigo jornada más larga=, _I am making a longer journey._ Besides
its common meanings _traer_ has that of "to be occupied in making, to
have on one's hands." _Jornada_ usually means "day's journey," cf.
French _étape_, but it is also used in the sense of a "journey" more or
less long.

877. =vengo de las Indias.= Hence the name "Indiano," which may mean that
one is a native of the Indies or simply a Spaniard who is returning from
there after having made his fortune. The term has a depreciative meaning
also, and then is an equivalent of our _nouveaux riches_, for which we
in turn are indebted to the French. (See Introduction.)

882. =Porque me dicen=, etc., _Because they tell me that the realization
of one's pretensions which one's occupation puts off, is slow in
arriving, I am going to set up a household._


ACT II

917. =Que tantas persecuciones=, etc. Supply some introductory
interrogative expression like "Can it be" or "Do you believe."

922. =De Amadís, en Beltenebros.= _Amadís de Gaula_ is the title of an old
romance of uncertain authorship. The oldest text of which we have record
was in Spanish or Portuguese prose, and the most interesting part of it
is attributed to the Portuguese, Joham de Lobeira. The incident referred
to by Lope occurred in the early years of the career of Amadís, hero of
the story. After a youth filled with adventure, he meets and falls in
love with Oriana, daughter of Lisuarte, king of Great Britain, who
returns his affection. A short time afterwards Amadís is freed from a
perilous situation by a young girl named Briolania, who herself is
suffering captivity. He then promises to return and deliver her. Having
been successful in a number of other adventures, he sets out, with the
tearful consent of Oriana, to rescue Briolania. After his departure on
this mission, Oriana is erroneously informed that Amadís loves
Briolania; mad with anger and despair, she sends him a letter saying
that all is ended between them. Amadís, having avenged Briolania's
wrongs, receives Oriana's letter and, overcome by grief, retires to a
hermitage on a rock in the sea, where he receives the name of
Beltenebros, which Southey translates as the "Fair Forlorn." Afterwards
Oriana, undeceived, seeks a reconciliation with Amadís, and their
happiness is at length realized. Amadís has remained the type of the
constant lover who comes into the possession of the object of his
affections only after adventures and difficulties without number.

951. =Valencia= is an important seaport town on the Mediterranean with a
population of about 160,000. The city is picturesquely situated on the
banks of the Guadalaviar in the midst of a luxuriant tropical nature.
Valencia was formerly the capital of a kingdom of the same name and has
played an important rôle in Spanish history since the time when the
Romans occupied the peninsula. During the Moorish occupation it was a
worthy rival of Seville, with which it is here mentioned. The gardens of
Valencia have always been justly celebrated for their beauty, and Lope
well knew this, for during his exile in Valencia he himself had a
garden in which, as he tells us in several of his works, he passed many
pleasant hours.

954. =Vera de Plasencia= is a small town northwest of Zaragoza, situated
in the desolate Llano de Plasencia. Lope must have sojourned there at
some time or have had more than a passing interest in the place, for in
his _Epístola á D. Michael de Solis_ he writes:

Si fuera por la Vera de Plasencia
Á buscar primavera al jardín mío,
Hallara tu Leonor en competencia.

_Obras Sueltas_, vol. I, p. 268.

960. =Pues lo digo=, etc. In the Valencia edition Martin says:

Quando lo digo lo sé.
Tres puntos del que los vé
Que no son puntos de vara:
Puntos, que puedo decir,
Según en su condición,
Que tres en un punto son:
Ver, desear, y morir.

The sense of the passage seems to turn on the words _punto_ and _cara_.
A _punto_ or "point" is one twelfth of the antiquated French line and
one one hundred and forty-fourth of an inch. By a comparison of the two
editions it is clear that there is a play on this word. _Cara_ is
probably a typographical error for _vara_, but it may be used here in a
related sense to the archaic _á primera cara_, which was the equivalent
of _á primera vista_. Therefore the sense of ll. 961-2 is: "That is the
size that one would take of that foot with a measure," or "That is the
size that one would take by a glimpse of that foot."

971. =De escarpines presumí=, etc. The consonance of _escarpines_ is with
_jazmines_, but the contrast is with _chapines_ above. The _chapín_ was
a heavy low shoe or sandal better suited to the use of servants, while
the _escarpín_ was an elegant thin-soled, shoe or slipper, and often
with cloth top as the following verse seems to indicate. Here the sense
is not very apparent and may involve some colloquialism of the time. The
passage may be freely translated: "I thought you were speaking of
_escarpines_, since the distinction depends only upon (the height of)
the cotton (top)."

973. =paragambas.= An obsolete or colloquial word made up of the
preposition _para_, or possibly of a form of the verb _parar_, "parry
off, protect," and the obsolete substantive _gamba_, the equivalent of
_pierna_. It was evidently applied to some covering of the leg, as a
gaiter or boot. In the Valencia edition it appears as two words, _para
gambas_.

974. =á cierta dama= depends upon _pregunté_.

975. =cañafístolas==_cañafístulas_. The word seems to have the idea of
something indicated but not named, and here may have the sense of
"ridiculous adornments." It is still used colloquially as the
approximate equivalent of the English "thingumajig" or "thingumbob."
That the author intends it to have something of its true meaning,
"purgative," is indicated by the next few lines of the text.

1009. =fialle=, see v. 95 and note.

1038. =azules enojos=, _dark clouds_. Lit. "blue wrath."

1042. =á cuantos los miran=. _Los_ refers to _ojos_ mentioned above. The
period at the end of the line must be a typographical error, for the
sense seems to favor a comma. The two subordinate clauses introduced by
_si_ and connected by y do not require as much separation as is afforded
by a period.

1052. =Como quedó concertado.= Note the repetition of line 1000. Lope is
given to repetitions in his works, but this is perhaps the only verse in
the play which he has unconsciously repeated.

1062. =inglés á Cádiz.= "Año de 1625." (Note by Hartzenbusch.) The
incident referred to is the irrational attack upon Cadiz by the English
fleet under Sir Edward Cecil in October, 1625. The English were
ignominiously defeated and the Spanish encouraged to continue an unequal
struggle.

1066. =tusón dorado.= The name of a celebrated order of knighthood founded
in 1429 by Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy and the Netherlands. It
originally consisted of thirty-one knights and was self-perpetuating,
but Philip II absorbed the nominating power. In 1713 Charles VI moved
the order to Vienna, but this action was contested by the Spanish and
the dispute was settled by dividing the order between the two countries.

1067. =Con débil caña=, etc. "En la edición antigua de la comedia: _Con
débil caña, con freno herrado._" (Note by Hartzenbusch.)

1068. =Marte... Cupido=, _Mars_, the god of war, _Cupid_, the god of love.

1076. =Sembrando.= "En la _Corona trágica_ se lee _sembrando_; en la
edición antigua de la comedia, _tendidas_."(Note by Hartzenbusch.) The
sonnet is found also in the _Obras Sueltas_, vol. IV, p. 500, under the
title, _Á la Venida de los Ingleses á Cádiz_. Hartzenbusch speaks of it
as though it appeared in the _Corona trágica_, but his note is
misleading, for it really is found in a collection of _Poesías varias_
in the volume stated which begins with the _Corona trágica_.

1086. =Mas qué os=, etc. More exact punctuation would place the initial
interrogation after _mas_ and before _qué_.

1089. =Filis.= In Greek mythology Phyllis, disappointed because her lover,
Demophon, did not return at the time appointed for their marriage, put
an end to her life. According to one account she was changed after death
into an almond-tree without leaves. But when Demophon, on his return,
embraced the tree, it put forth leaves, so much was it affected by the
presence of the lover. To the mythological Phyllis, however, Lope is
indebted only for the name. To him "Filis" was a more material being in
the person of Elena Osorio, daughter of a theatrical manager and a
married woman. During the early part of the period 1585-1590 he
dedicated to her some of his most beautiful love-ballads, and in the
latter part, when he turned against her and was exiled from Madrid and
Castile, he continued to address poems to her, but now filled with
bitter complaints. (See Introduction.) The fact that he mentions her
name here in a play written in the later years of his life is of
interest; either he wrote the sonnet in his earlier years and used it
here, or it would seem that the poet's mind reverts to his youthful
follies. But in one of the last works written just before his death Lope
speaks of his daughter, Antonia Clara, under the name of "Filis," which
has given rise to some confusion. "Phyllis," moreover, is a very common
name in pastoral poems in the 16th and 17th centuries.

1110. =devantal==_delantal_.

1126. =hubiérades... Dijérades==_hubierais... Dijerais_. Cf. v. 835 and
note.

1133. =Si es disfrazar=, etc. In the pastorals the author usually
disguised personages of distinction in the garb of shepherds and
shepherdesses. These compositions were very popular in Spain during the
sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries.

1145. =que viene... á pretender=, _who comes to court to make
pretensions_. _Pretender_ also means "to sue for place, seek position"
and might be here "to seek favor at court."

1153. =En él este amor bebí.= Here as well as in the following line _él_
refers to _cántaro_.

1155. =Sirena.= The Sirens were fabulous mythological monsters, half bird
and half woman, which were supposed to inhabit reefs near the island of
Capri and lure sailors to their death by the sweetness of their song.

1186. =que tiene razón=, _indeed she is quite right_. Zerolo's edition has
_que_ instead of _qué_ of the Hartzenbusch edition, and it is clearly
the author's intent.

1231. =Por servicios que me hiciese=, etc., _Whatever services he did me,
however many years he put me under obligation._

1237-40. Observe that one of these verses concludes each of the
following stanzas or _décimas_. Such a verse is called the _pie de
décima_.

1252. =Andalucía= forms one of the most important and romantic of Spain's
ancient divisions and still occupies a unique position in the life and
character of the Spanish people. Geographically it occupies almost the
whole of the south of Spain.

1262. =dorado=, a yellow flower.

1266. =Manutisa= is usually written _minutisa_.

1282. =Adónde bueno==_Qué tal._ There is also a sense of motion as
indicated by verse 1284, but it is difficult to give a concise
translation. Freely expressed we may offer: "Whither bound, my pretty
maid?"

1291. =Pero... admira=, _But on my word I am astonished._

1300. =No tengo por mal acuerdo requebrar=, etc., _I do not consider it
ill-advised to enumerate_, etc. _Requebrar_ usually means "to flatter,"
but it also means "to break in small pieces," hence "to give in detail"
or "to enumerate."

1303. =Os costará=, etc. The sense of the verb is plural unless we take it
as impersonal and supply an infinitive construction after it.

1305. =Para el río.= This expression is out of its natural order and might
well be set off by commas. The sense is: "A hat with its band for going
to the river."

1306. =Avantal==_delantal_. Cf. v. 1110 and note.

1307. =virillas.= In addition to its usual meaning, _vira_, or _virilla_,
is used to denote the border around the top of the shoe, which is its
meaning in the present instance.

1314. =No hay plata... Potosí.= Potosí is a city of Bolivia situated on
the Cerro de Potosí at an altitude of thirteen thousand feet. The Cerro
de Potosí is said to have produced up to the present time over three
billion dollars in silver. The first mine was opened there in 1545, and
the year of Lope's birth, 1562, a royal mint was established in the city
of Potosí to coin the output of the mines. Small wonder is it then that
the Spaniards still refer to the city in proverb as a synonym for great
riches. Lope mentions it in several of his other dramas.

1324. Compare this speech of doña María with that of Areusa in the
_Celestina_ against the exacting duties of servants. (See _Biblioteca de
Autores Españoles_, vol. III, p. 43.)

1341. =de mañana=, _early in the morning_.

1349. =Bien aforrada razón=, etc. In this reply of doña María we see not a
little of the _précieux_ spirit which in the same century became so
popular in France. A man must not proceed "brutally" to a declaration of
love at the very beginning, but by interminable flatteries and conceits
lead up to such a declaration, and even then must not expect the object
of his devotion to yield at once to his cleverly conceived pleadings.

1404. =cristal deshecho= refers to the running water of the fountain.

1410. =henchirle.= The antecedent of _le_ is _cántaro_.

1417. =Ó asoma por el estribo=, etc., _Or shows through the doorway of the
carriage her curls on the hooks of a 'rest.'_ In modern usage when
applied to the parts of a carriage _estribo_ means the "step" but in the
text it is used apparently as the equivalent of _portezuela_. _Descanso_
seems to have been at the time a device used in women's head-dress, such
as was represented some years later by Velázquez in his famous portrait
of Mariana de Austria, which now hangs in the Prado Museum at Madrid.

1439. =Conténtese ó quitaréle.= Observe the change from the second person
to the third in this verse and the following one.

1455. =¿Qué se hizo tu desdén?= _What has become of your pride?_

1460. =Habrán hecho riza en ti=, _Have probably done you a great injury.
Hacer riza_, "to cause disaster or slaughter."

1477. =si no envidaste=, etc., _if you have not staked any money, lay down
your hand and remain apart_. Leonor applies here the terms of a game of
cards when speaking of the love-affairs of doña María.

1493. =No pone codo en la puente=, etc., a reference to the custom of the
idlers and braggarts lounging in public places and seeking trouble or
offering defiance to every passer-by.

1495. =los lavaderos.= The banks of the Manzanares immediately in the rear
of the Royal Palace have long been the public _lavaderos_ or
washing-places of the city of Madrid, and every day acres of network of
lines are covered with drying linen. It is here naturally that the
gallants of the lower classes go to meet their sweethearts, and scenes
such as we have portrayed later in the play are of frequent occurrence.
Cf. note on verse 441.

1510. =Prado=, formerly, as its name implies, a meadow on the outskirts of
Madrid and later converted into a magnificent _paseo_ between the Buen
Retiro palace and the city proper. The house of Lope de Vega still
stands in the narrow Calle de Cervantes, a short distance from the
Prado, and the poet often mentions this celebrated _paseo_ in his works.
The name is frequently used to refer to the famous art-gallery located
there.

1520. =quien=, cf. 1. 337 and note.

1527-8. =Aprended... hoy.= Note the repetition of 11. 1237-8.

1543. =Durandartes.= In Spanish ballads Durandarte is the name of one of
the twelve peers who fought with Roland at Roncesvalles. In the
_Romancero General_ the adventures and death of the knight are narrated.
Steadfast to death in his affections for his beloved Belerma, he gives
utterance to his lamentations in the famous old ballad beginning with
the following lines:

      ¡O Belerma! ¡O Belerma!
      Por mi mal fuiste engendrada,
      Que siete años te serví
      Sin de ti alcanzar nada;
      Agora que me querías
      Muero yo en esta batalla.

Durandarte was the cousin of the knight Montesinos who gave his name to
the celebrated cave of la Mancha, visited by don Quijote, whose
adventures in this connection are narrated in _Don Quijote_, Part II,
Chapters XXII and XXIII. Cervantes calls Durandarte the "flor y espejo
de los caballeros enamorados" and probably Lope is indebted to his great
contemporary for the word, which he uses in the sense of _lances de
amor_.

1552. =Puesto que=, etc. The Valencia edition has here instead of this
verse: _Con todo, no he de culpalle._

1608. =de espacio==_despacio_.

1649. =Don Fadrique de Toledo=, son of the Duke of Alba and descendant of
the great soldier, Alba, was one of Spain's greatest naval commanders.
In 1625 he destroyed the Dutch fleet off Gibraltar. Writing this play,
as he may have been, with the acclamations of the great victory ringing
in his ears, it was quite natural that Lope should honor the hero in his
drama and at the same time add to the popularity of his work. Later in
1634 don Fadrique de Toledo fell into disfavor or incurred the jealousy
of the Count-Duke Olivares and was cast into prison.

1668. =rocín gallego.= The _gallegos_, or inhabitants of Galicia, are a
sober, industrious people, but have throughout Spain a reputation for
ignorance and stupidity; so they have long been made the butt of
malicious gibes and jests by their more volatile fellow-countrymen. In
the Valencia edition this verse and the preceding one are rendered in a
manner to give a clearer meaning:

      En la coz y mordiscón
      Parece rocín gallego.

1681. =Es... vaya=, _Is all that to tease me?_

1696. =diera= is used here in the double sense of "give" and "strike."

1708. =cristal de Venecia.= Early in the middle ages Venice was a center
for the manufacture of glass. The industry was at its height in the 15th
and 16th centuries, but gradually declined until it ceased in the 18th,
only to be revived about the middle of the 19th century. Since then
Venice has retaken her position as the European center for artistic
creations in glass. Near the close of the 13th century the factories
were moved outside the city to the island of Murano, where they are at
the present time.

1714. =Si no=, etc., _If not in harm, in the realization._--=Caer en la
cuenta=, _to understand, realize_.

1723. =satisfaciones= is now written _satisfacciones_.

1733-4. The language of these two verses is drawn from the popular
proverbs: "Tantas veces va el cántaro á la fuente, alguna se quiebra,"
and "Tantas veces va el cántaro á la fuente, que deja el asa ó la
frente." Doña María uses parts of each of these forms.

1737. =volviérades==_volvierais_. See v. 835 and note.

1782. =de canela=, that is, _agua de canela_.

1785. =Don Alvaro de Luna=, a Spanish courtier, born about 1388, was, in
his youth, a page at the court of John II, whose favor he later enjoyed
to a high degree. He was made Constable of Castile in 1423 and a few
years later grand master of the order of Santiago--a double distinction
never enjoyed by any other man. He afterwards fell a victim of a
conspiracy of the Spanish feudal grandees and was executed at Valladolid
in 1453. His life and achievements became a popular theme for Spanish
authors, and doubtless much of interest written concerning him has been
lost. The _romances_ relating to don Alvaro de Luna which have come down
to us concern his fall and execution, and some of them are favorites of
beggars who sing in the streets of Spanish cities. It is evidently to a
_romancero_ or collection of these poems that reference is made by Lope.

1817. =el Cid.= Rodrigo Ruy Diaz de Bivar (1040-1099), called "el Cid
Campeador," is the great national hero of Spain. From the numerous
accounts, real and fictitious, of his achievements we learn that he was
a great warrior who fought sometimes with the Moors, sometimes with the
Spaniards, and that at last as a soldier of fortune he seized Valencia
and until his death successfully defied the two great rivals of his
time, the Spaniards and the Moors. His life has served as a theme for
numerous literary masterpieces, especially the Old Spanish _Cantar de
mio Cid_. Lope de Vega treats of his fall in his play entitled el
_Milagro por los Celos_.

1818. =gigote==_jigote_.

1824. =Valladolid=, an interesting city of Northern Spain and the seat of
an important university. Valladolid has figured prominently in Spanish
history for many centuries, for it was long the favorite residence of
the Spanish sovereigns. Early in the reign of Philip III the seat of
government was again transferred to that city, but was returned to
Madrid in 1606.

1836. =si le come=, _if he likes it_. _Comer_, lit. "to eat."


ACT III

1837. =No haya más=, _Let that be the end of it._

1844. =No lo acabes de decir=, _Don't go any farther._

1854. =Llegue el lacayo gallina=, _Let the chicken-hearted lackey come
on._

1858. =mohadas==_mojadas_, coll., _knife-thrusts_.

1863. =Pues con él haberlas quiero=, _Well I am willing to have it out
with him._

1901. =dueño= is regularly used in its present sense when referring to a
woman as well as to a man. The feminine _dueña_ has the same meaning,
but more commonly means _house-keeper_ or _chaperon_.

1911. =mesmo==_mismo_.

1920. Cf. v. 1495 and note.

1929. =Tocó... el instrumento=, etc. The reference is evidently to the
_bandurría_ which in its ancient form was a very popular musical
instrument for such occasions as the one here described. Compare the
description of it with its direct descendant, the modern banjo.

1951. =Casa del Campo=, commonly written _Casa de Campo_, is a large royal
park immediately in the rear of the royal palace and grounds and on the
other side of the Manzanares, which is here spanned by the Puente del
Rey.

1960. =Felipe y Isabel=, that is, Philip IV of Spain and his first wife,
Isabel de Bourbon, daughter of Henry IV, king of France. (See
Introduction.) Observe that modern Spanish would require "Felipe e
Isabel."

1963. =las colores.= _Color_ is now almost limited in usage to the
masculine, but Lope, like other authors of the 16th and 17th centuries,
used it indifferently in the masculine and in the feminine.

2003. =pecho=, _courage_.

2044. =labrar=, _embroider_.

2109. =que antes ha sido=, etc., _for rather has it been so that I cannot
see her_.

2131. =Porque ha mucho que no soy=, _Because I have not been there for a
long time._ There is perhaps a play upon _ser_, "to exist" in this
verse.

2146. =Que más de cuatro manteos=, etc., _That more than a few_ (lit.
"four") _of those mantles of yours with fabrics of gold cover many
defects._

2164. =aceto==_acepto_.

2172. =en pelo=, _bareback_. With mock respect doña María asks pardon for
using in the presence of people well-bred a term as commonplace as _en
pelo_. Cf. v. 769 and note.

2217. =Alcance=, the present subjunctive with the conjunction _que_
omitted.

2236. =De cántaro la tenía==_Tenía el alma de cántaro. Alma de cántaro_ is
a colloquial term nearly equivalent to our "harebrained fellow."

2238. =proverbio=, that is, the proverbial use of _cántaro_ in the
expression _alma de cántaro_.

2282. =Atlante=, a name usually applied to masculine figures in Greek
architecture, which, like the female caryatides, take the place of
columns. The reference here seems to be to the mythological Atlas, from
which word we have the architectural term _Atlante_. The author used it
in the same sense in one of his sonnets:

   /*[3]
   Igualará la pluma á la grandeza,
   Y el Parnaso de vos favorecido
   Tendrá en su frente el cielo como Atlante.

   _Obras Sueltas_, vol. IV, p. 277.
   */

But Lope knew it in its more exact architectural sense and apparently
uses it so in the following lines:

   /*[3]
   Y otras del reino importantes,
   Que siendo en ellos atlantes,
   Serán rayos de Archidona.

   _La Estrella de Sevilla_, Act I, Scene IV.
   */

2315. =Tened.= Note the change from the less formal second person singular
as soon as don Juan suspects doña María to be above the servant class.

2342. In Zerolo's edition there is a comma at the end of this verse
instead of a period, which is clearly the more correct punctuation.

2347. =Vos salisteis diferente=, _Your origin has been different._

2349. =Y yo sin dicha==_Y yo salí sin dicha_.

2360 and ff. Compare the similar sentiment expressed by the author in
_el Cuerdo en su casa_, Act II, Scene XXIV:

   /*[3]
   El que nació para humilde,
   Mal puede ser caballero.

   * * *

   Haya quien are y quien cave;
   Siempre el vaso al licor sabe.
   */

2399. =Que darme yo á entender=, _For me to assume_.

2420. =por armas=, _as a coat of arms_.

2422. In the Valencia edition this passage is identical except that it
continues through one more _octava_.

2438. =Vinculadas en lacayos=, _Handed down from lackey to lackey.
Vincular_, "to entail, continue, perpetuate."

2440. =Aunque poca me ha cabido=, _Although little has fallen to my
share._

2444. =Mondoñedo=, a town in Galicia, northeast of Lugo, with a population
of about 12,000. This region has been particularly prolific in noble
houses and among them is that of Lope de Vega. He mentions the fact in
_el Premio de bien hablar_, when he makes don Juan say:

   /*[3]
   Nací en Madrid, aunque son
   En Galicia los solares
   De mi nacimiento noble,
   De mis abuelos y padres.
   Para noble nacimiento
   Hay en España tres partes:
   Galicia, Vizcaya, Asturias,
   Ó ya montañas se llamen.--
   */

2446. =Volver la silla á el dosel=, _Conduct himself better on occasions
of ceremony._ The origin of the expression is explained in the following
note in the London edition of the play: "Alude á la costumbre de estar
en los actos públicos la silla del rey vuelta hacia el dosel siempre que
S. M. no la ocupa. Así se mantuvo la silla real en las Cortes
Extraordinarias de Cádiz y Madrid todo el tiempo que Fernando VII estuvo
preso en Francia."

2452. =Aunque pide=, etc., _Although the sack of salt requires greater
fortune._ A probable reference to the high cost of living and
particularly to the high price of salt, of which Olivares made a
government monopoly in 1631, the year previous to the revision or
appearance of the play.

2468. =Que no hay hueso que dejar=, _For nothing must be omitted._ Lit.
"For not a bone must be left out".

2534. =Que á saber=, _For if I had known._

2539. =Aunque á Alejandro=, etc. Apelles was a famous Greek painter in the
time of Philip and Alexander. His renown may be imagined, since the
three cities, Colophon, Ephesus and Cos, claimed to be his birthplace.
He spent, however, the greater part of his life in the Macedonian court,
where he was very popular. Many anecdotes were told of Alexander and
Apelles which show the intimate relations of the two and among which is
the one referred to in the text. Apelles had painted Campaspe, also
called Pancaste, the favorite of Alexander, undraped, and had fallen in
love with her. The generous monarch learning of it yielded her up to the
painter. This picture is said to have been the famous Venus Anadyomene.
At the time of the first representation of the play, the author must
have had Apelles fresh in mind, for about that date he cites another
anecdote of the painter in his dedication of _Amor secreto hasta Zelos_,
and mentions him several times in miscellaneous verse of the period.

2549-50. =que no soy tan del Conde=, _I do not belong so much to the
Count._

2559-61. These three lines are disconnected and are not adjusted either
to the rime scheme of the preceding verses or to that of the following.
They may be part of a popular song of the day.

2561. =juegan cañas.= Cane tourneys were modern adaptations of the
medieval tilts or jousts, in which the contestants were mounted on
horseback but armed only with reeds. The contests were made up of
several features which permitted the participants to exhibit their skill
in horsemanship. They were popular in the first part of the reign of
Philip IV, for the king encouraged them and even took part in them
himself.

2562. =¡Mala letra para novios!= The reference finds its full expression
in a rime of coarse sentiment which recounts the immediate fortunes
attending the _novio_ who dreams of bulls.

2567. =Dos meses.= Cf. v. 2146 and note.

2641. =¡Vive Dios, que si... bajeza!= _By heavens, if this be true I shall
kill you rather than permit such a disgrace._

2679. =por andar encubierta=, _in order to remain in disguise_.

2685. =á escuras==_á oscuras_.

2691. Compare this with the following lines from the _Égloga á Claudio_:

   /*[3]
   _Mil y quinientas fabulas_ admira,
   Que la mayor el numero parece,
   Verdad que desmerece
   Por parecer mentira,
   Pues más de ciento en horas veintiquatro
   Passaron de las Musas al Teatro.

   _Obras Sueltas_, vol. IX, p. 368.
   */




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