1. ALI. __ ¿Qué es esto, señor Pleberio?   ¿Por qué son tus fuertes alaridos?   sin seso estaua adormida   del pesar que oue quando oy dezir que sentía dolor nuestra hija;   agora oyendo tus gemidos, tus vozes tan altas,   tus quexas no acostumbradas,   tu llanto y congoxa de tanto sentimiento,   en tal manera penetraron mis entrañas,   en tal manera traspasaron mi coraçón,   assí abiuaron mis turbados sentidos,   que el ya rescibido pesar alançé de mí.   vn dolor sacó otro, vn sentimiento otro.   dime la causa de tus quexas.    ¿Por qué maldizes tu honrrada vegez?? Por qué   pides la muerte?   ¿Por qué arrancas tus blancos cabellos?   ¿Por qué hieres tu honrrada cara?? es algún mal de Melibea?   Por Dios, que me lo digas,   porque si ella pena, no quiero yo viuir. 

ALISA.  Why Pleberio? my lord!   What's the matter?  Why do you weep and sob, and take on in  such extreme and violent manner?  I have lain ever  since in a dead swoon, so was I overcome with grief,  when I heard that our daughter was so ill.  And now  hearing your pitiful lamentations, your loud  cryings, your unaccustomed complaints, your  mournings and great anguish, they have so pierced my  very bowels, made so quick a passage to my heart, and  have so quickened and revived my troubled and benumbed senses, that I have now put away the grief  which I entertained:  thus one grief drives out another, and  sorrow expelleth sorrow.  Tell me the cause of your  complaint; why do you curse your honourable old age?   Why do you desire death?  Why do you tear your milk-white hairs up by the roots?  Why do you scratch and  rend your reverend face?! Is any ill befallen  Melibea?  For I pray you tell me; for if she be not  well, I cannot live.  

   2. PLEB. __ ¡Ay, ay, noble muger¡   Nuestro gozo en el pozo.   Nuestro bien todo es perdido   ¡No queramos más biuir¡   y porque el incogitado dolor te dé más pena,   todo junto sin pensarle, porque más presto vayas al sepulcro,   porque no llore yo solo la pérdida dolorida de entramos,   ves allí a la que tú pariste y yo engendré, hecha pedaços.   La causa supe della;   más la he sabido por estenso desta su triste siruienta.   Ayúdame a llorar nuestra llagada postremería   ¡O gentes, que venís a mi dolor¡   ¡O amigos y señores, ayudáme a sentir mi pena¡   ¡O mi hija y mi bien todo¡   Crueldad sería que viua yo sobre ti.  

PLEBERIO.  Out alas!   Ay me, my most noble wife!   Our solace is in the suds; our joy is turn'd  into annoy; all our conceived hopes are utterly lost;  all our happiness is quite overthrown; let us now no  longer desire to live.  And because unexpected sorrows  leave a greater impression of grief; and because  they may bring thee the sooner to thy grave; as also,  that I may not alone by myself bewail that heavy loss  which belongs to us both; look out and behold her,  whom thou broughtest forth and I begot, dashed and  broken all to pieces.  The cause I understood from  herself, but laid open more at large by this her sad and sorrowful servant.  Help to lament these our  latter days, which are now growing to an end.  O ye  good people, who come to behold my sorrows, and you  gentlemen, my loving friends, do you also assist to  bewail my misery!   O my daughter!   and my only good!    It were cruelty in me, that I should outlive thee.  

Más   dignos eran mis sesenta años, de la sepultura, que tus veynte.   Turbóse la orden del morir con la tristeza que te aquexaua.   ¡O mis canas, salidas para auer pesar¡   Mejor gozara de vosotras la tierra que de aquellos ruuios cabellos que presentes veo.   Fuertes días me sobran para viuir;    ¿Quexarme he de la muerte?   ¿Incusarle he su dilación? Quanto tiempo me dexare solo después de ti,   fálteme la vida, pues me faltó tu agradable compaqía.   ¡O muger mia¡Leuántate de sobre ella   y, si alguna vida te queda,   gástala comigo en tristes gemidos, en quebrantamiento y sospirar.   y si por caso tu espíritu reposa con el suyo,   si ya has dexado esta vida de dolor,    ¿Por qué quesiste que lo passe yo todo?   En esto tenés ventaja las hembras a los varones,   que puede vn gran dolor sacaros del mundo   sin lo sentir o a lo menos perdeys el sentido,   que es parte de descanso.   ¡O duro coraçón de padre¡   ¿Cómo no te quiebras de dolor,   que ya quedas sin tu amada heredera?   ¿Para quién edifiqué torres?

My  threescore years were fitter for the grave that thy twenty; but the order of my dying was altered by the extremity of grief, which did hasten thy end.  O ye my  hoary hairs, grown forth to no other end save sorrow!    it would better have suited with you to have been  buried in the earth, than with the these golden  tresses which lie here before me. Too too many are  the days that I have yet to live; I will complain and  cry out against death; I will accuse him of delay; how  long will he suffer me to remain here after thee! Let  my life now leave me, since I must leave thy sweet company.  O my dear wife, rise up from her, and if any  life be left in thee, spend that little with me in  tears and lamentations, in sobs and in sighs:  but in  case thy soul resteth now with hers; if out of very  grief thou hast left this life, why wouldst thou lay  this heavy burden on me?  Wh! y let me remain here  alone and have nobody to help me in the unsheathing  of my sorrows?  In this ye women have a great  advantage of us that are men; for some violent grief can make you go out of the world without any pain; or  at least cast you into a swoon, which is some ease to  your sorrows.  O the hard heart of a father why dost  thou not burst forth with grief?  Why do not your  heart-strings crack in sunder to see thyself bereaved  oh thy beloved heir?  For whom didst thou build these  turrets?  For whom got I honours?  For whom planted  trees?  For whom built ships?  O hard-hearted earth,  why dost thou bear me any longer?  Where shall my  disconsolate old age find any resting place?  

  ¡O fortuna variable, ministra y mayordoma de los temporales bienes¡, ¿Por qué no executaste tu cruel   yra,  tus mudables ondas, en aquello que a ti es subjeto?   ¿Por qué no destruyste mi patrimonio?   ¿Por qué no quemaste mi morada?   ¿Por qué no asolaste mis grandes heredamientos?   Dexárasme aquella florida planta, en quien tú poder no tenías;   diérasme, fortuna flutuosa, triste la mocedad con vegez alegre,   no peruertieras la orden.   Mejor sufriera persecuciones de tus engaños en la rezia y robusta edad,   que no en la flaca postremería.   ¡O vida de congoxas llena, de miserias acompañada¡   ¡O mundo, mundo¡Muchos mucho de ti dixeron,   muchos en tus qualidades metieron la mano,   a diuersas cosas por oydas te compararon;   yo por triste esperiencia lo contaré,   como a quien las ventas y compras de tu engañosa feria no prósperamente sucedieron,   como aquél que mucho ha fasta agora callado tus falsas propiedades,   por no encender con odio tu yra,   porque no me secasses sin tiempo   esta flor que este día echaste de tu poder.

O  variable fortune, and full of change, thou  ministress and high stewardess of all temporal  happiness, why didst thou not execute they cruel anger  upon me?  Why didst thou not overwhelm him with thy  mutable waves, who professes himself to be thy  subject?  Why didst thou not rob me of my patrimony?   Why didst thou not set fire on my house? Why didst  thou not lay waste mine inheritance?  Why didst thou not strip me of my great revenues?  What is't I would  not thou shouldst have done, so as thou hadst left me  that flourishing young plant, over which thou oughtest  not to have had such power?  Thou mightest, O fortune  fluctuant and fluent as thou are, have given me a  sorrowful youth and a mirthful age; neither have  therein perverted order. Better could I have borne  thy blow, better endured thy persecutions, in that my  more strong and oaky age than in this my weak and  feeble declining.  O life fulfilled with grief and  accompanied with nought but misery!   O world, world!    Much have men spoken of thee, much have men writ  concerning thy deceits; and much have I heard myself:  and mine own woeful experience is able to  say something of thee, as one who have been in the  unfortunate fair, and have often bought and sold with  thee, but never had anything that succeeded happily  with me.  As one who many a time heretofore, even to  this present hour, have silenced thy false properties,  and all because I would not purchase thy displeasure,  and pull they hatred upon me; and that thou shouldst  not untimely pluck this flower from me, which this day  thou hast cropped by the mightness of thy power.  

  Pues agora sin temor, como quien no tiene qué perder,   como aquél a quien tu compaqía es ya enojosa,   como caminante pobre, que sin temor de los crueles salteadores   va cantando en alta boz.   Yo pensaua en mi más tierna edad   que eras y eran tus hechos regidos por alguna orden;   agora, visto el pro y la contra de tus bienandanças,   me pareces vn laberinto de errores,   vn desierto espantable, vna morada de fieras,   juego de hombres que andan en corro,   laguna llena de cieno, región llena de espinas,   monte alto, campo pedregoso, prado lleno de serpientes,   huerto florido y sin fruto,   fuente de cuydados, río de lágrimas, mar de miserias,   trabajo sin prouecho, dulce ponçoña, vana   esperança, falsa alegría, verdadero dolor.

 And  therefore now will I go with fear, like one that hath nothing to lose; or as one to whom thy company is now odious and troublesome; or like a poor traveller,  who fearless of thieves goes singing on his way.  I  thought in my more tender years, that both thou and  thy actions were governed by order, and ruled by  reason:  but now I see thou art pro and con; there  is no certainty in thy calms. Thou seemest now unto  me to be a labyrinth of errors; a fearful wilderness;  an habitation of wild beasts; a dance full of changes;  a fen full of mire and dirt; a country full of thorns; a steep and craggy mountain; a field full of  stones; a meadow full of snakes and serpents; a  pleasant garden to look to, but without any fruit; a  fountain of cares, a river of tears, a sea of  miseries; trouble without profit; a sweet poison, a  vain hope, a false joy, and a true sorrow. ! O thou false world!   Thou dost cast before us the baits of  thy best delights, and when we have swallowed them,  they seeming savoury unto us, then dost thou show us  the hook that must choke us.  Nor can we avoid it,  because together with us thou dost captivate our  wills:  thou promisest mountains, but perfomest mole-  hills; and then thou dost cast us off, that we may not  put thee in mind of making good thy vain promises. We  run through the spacious fields of thy rank vices,  retchlessly and with a loose rein; and then dost thou discover thy ambushes unto us, when thou seest there  is no way for us to retreat.  Many have forsaken  thee, fearing thy sudden forsaking of them; and well  may they style themselves happy, when they shall see,  how well thou hast rewarded this poor heavy sorrowful  old man for his long service.  Thou dost put out our  eyes, and then to make ! us amends thou anointest the  place with oil; thou breakest our head and givest us  a plaster; after thou hast done us a great deal of  harm, thou givest us a poor cold comfort.  Thou dost  hurt unto all, that no man may boast that others have not their crosses as well as we; telling them that it  is some ease to the miserable to have companions in  their misery. But I alas, disconsolate old man, stand  all alone.  

  Yo fui lastimado sin hauer ygual compañero de semejante dolor; avnque más en mi fatigada   memoria rebueluo presentes y passados.   Que si aquella seueridad y paciencia de Paulo Emilio me viniere a consolar   con pérdida de dos hijos muertos en siete días,   diziendo que su animosidad obró   que consolase él al pueblo romano y no el pueblo a él,   no me satisfaze, que otros dos le quedauan dados en adobción.   ¿Qué compaqía me ternán en mi dolor aquel Pericles,   capitán ateniense, ni el fuerte Xenofón,   pues sus pérdidas fueron de hijos absentes de sus tierras?   Ni fue mucho no mudar su frente y tenerla serena   y el otro responder al mensajero,   que las tristes albricias de la muerte de su hijo le venía a pedir,   que no recibiesse él pena, que él no sentía pesar.   Que todo esto bien diferente es a mi mal.   Pues menos podrás dezir, mundo lleno de males,   que fuimos semejantes en pérdida aquel Anaxágoras y yo,   que seamos yguales en sentir   y que responda yo, muerta mi amada hija, lo que el su vnico hijo,   que dijo: como yo fuesse mortal,

 I am singular in my sorrows; I am  grieved and have not equal companion of my grief.  No  man's misfortune is like unto mine; though I revolve  in my troubled memory, persons both present and past,  I cannot instance in the like.  If I shall seek to  comfort myself with the severity and patience of  Paulus Aemilius, who, having lost two sons in seven  days, bore this brunt of fortune with so undaunted a courage, that the people of Rome had rather need to be comforted by him than he by them; yet cannot this  satisfy me, for he had two more remaining that were  his adopted sons.  What companion then will they allot  me of my misery?  Pericles, that brave Athenian  captain?  Or valiant Xenophon?  Tush, they lost sons  indeed, but their sons died out of their sight,  having lost their lives abroad in foreign countries  far form home; so that it was not much for ! the one  not to change countenance, but to take it cheerfully,  nor for the other to answer the messenger, who brought  him the ill tidings of his sons' deaths, that he  should receive no punishment, because himself had  received no grief; for all this is far differing from  mine.  Less canst thou say, thou world replenished  with evil that Anaxagoras and I were alike in our  loss; that we were equal in our greifs; and that I  should say of my dead daughter, as he did of his only son, when he said, 'Being that I was mortal, I knew  that he whom I had begot was to die'.  

  Porque mi Melibea mató a sí misma de su voluntad   a mis ojos con la gran fatiga de amor que la aquexaba;   el otro matáronle en muy lícita batalla.   ¡O incomparable pérdida¡¡O lastimado viejo¡   Que quanto más busco consuelos, menos razón fallo para me consolar.   Que, si el profeta y rey Dauid al hijo, que enfermo lloraua,   muerto no quiso llorar,   diziendo que era quasi locura llorar lo irrecuperable,   quedáuanle otros muchos con que soldase su llaga;   y yo no lloro triste a ella muerta, pero la causa desastrada   de su morir.   agora perderé contigo, mi desdichada hija,   los miedos y temores que cada día me espauorecían:   sola tu muerte es la que a mí me haze seguro de sospecha.   ¿Qué haré, quando entre en tu cámara y retraymiento y la halle sola?   ¿Qué haré de de que no respondas, si te llamo?   ¿Quién me podrá cobrir la gran falta que tú me hazes?  

For my Melibea,  willingly and out of her own election, killed herself  before mine eyes, enforced thereunto through the extreme passion of her love, so great was her torment, whereas his on was slain in battle, in a just and lawful war. O incomparable loss!   O most  wretched and sorrowful old man that I am!   Who the  more I seek after comfort, the less reason do I find  for my comfort.  For much  more miserable do I find my misfortune, and do not so  much grieve at her death, as I do lament the manner of her death.  Now shall I lose together with thee, most unhappy daughter, those fears, which were daily wont  to affright me.  Only thy death is that which makes me  secure of all suspicions and jealousies.  What shall I  do, when I shall come into thy chamber and thy  withdrawing room, and shall find it solitary and empty?  Who is he  that can supply that want which thou h! ast caused?  Who  can stop up that breach in my heart which thou hast  made?  

  ninguno perdió lo que yo el día de oy,   avnque algo conforme parescía la fuerte animosidad de Lambas de Auria,   duque de los ginoveses, que a su hijo herido   con sus braços desde la nao echó en la mar.   Porque todas estas son muertes que, si roban la vida, es forçado de complir con la   fama.  Pero ¿Quién forçó a mi hija a morir, sino la fuerte fuerça de amor?   Pues, mundo halaguero, ¿Qué remedio das a mi fatigada vegez?   ¿Cómo me mandas quedar en ti, conosciendo tus falacias,   tus lazos, tus cadenas y redes,   con que pescas nuestras flacas voluntades?   ¿A dó me pones mi hija?   ¿Quién acompañará mi desacompañada morada?   ¿Quién terná en regalos mis años, que caducan?  

Never any man did lose that which I have lost  this day. Though in some sort that great fortitude of  Lambs de Auria, Duke of Genoa, seemeth to suit with  my present estate and condition, who, seeing his son  was wounded to death, took him and threw him with  his own arms forth of the ship into the sea.  But such  kind of deaths as these, though they take away life,  yet they give reputation; and many times men are  enforced to undergo such actions, for to comply with  their honour, and get themselves fame and renown. But what did enforce my daughter to die, but only the strong force of love?  What remedy now, thou  flattering world, wilt thou afford my wearisome age?   How wouldst thou have me to rely upon thee, I knowing  thy falsehoods, thy gins, thy snares, and thy nets,  wherein thou entrap'st and takest our weak and  feeble wills?  Tell me, what hast thou done with my&n! bsp; daughter?  Where hast thou bestow'd her? Who shall  accompany my disaccompanied habitation?  Who shall  cherish me in mine old age?  Who with gentle usage shall cocker my decaying years?  

  ¡O amor, amor¡   ¡Que no pensé que tenías fuerça ni poder de matar a tus subjectos¡   Herida fue de ti mi juuentud,   por medio de tus brasas passé:   ¿Cómo me soltaste, para me dar la paga de la huyda en mi vegez?   Bien pensé que de tus lazos me auía librado,   quando los quarenta años toqué,   quando fui contento con mi conjugal compañera,   quando me vi con el fruto que me cortaste el día de oy.   No pensé que tomauas en los hijos la vengança de los padres.   Ni sé si hieres con hierro ni si quemas con fuego. Sana   dexas la ropa; lastimas el coraçón.   hazes que feo amen y hermoso les parezca.   ¿Quién te dio tanto poder?   ¿Quién te puso nombre que no te conuiene?   Si amor fuesses, amarías a tus siruientes.   Si los amasses, no les darías pena.   Si alegres viuiessen, no se matarían, como agora mi amada hija.  

O Love, Love, I did  not think thou had'st had the power to kill thy  subjects!   I was wounded by thee in my youth:  I did pass through the midst of thy flames.  Why didst thou  let me scape?  Was it that thou might'st pay me home  for my flying from thee then, in mine old age?  I had  well thought that I had been freed from thy snares,  when I once began to grow towards forty; and when I  rested contented with my wedded consort, and when I  saw I had that fruit, which this day thou hast cut  down, I did not dream that thou wouldst in the children have taken vengeance of the parents; and I  know not whether thou woundest with the sword, or  burnest with fire.  Thou leavest our clothes whole,  and yet most cruelly woundest our hearts; thou  makest that which is foul, to seem fair and  beautiful unto us.  Who gave thee so great a power?   Who gave thee tha! t name which so ill befitteth thee?   If thou wert Love, thou wouldst love thy servants; and  if thou didst love them, thou wouldst not punish them as thou dost.  If to be thy fellow were to live  merrily, so many would not kill themselves, as my  daughter now hath, and infinite of us.  

  ¿En qué pararon tus siruientes y sus ministros?   La falsa alcahueta Celestina murió a manos de los más fieles compañeros   que ella para su seruicio enponçoñado jamás halló.   Ellos murieron degollados. Calisto, despeñado.  Mi triste hija quiso tomar la misma muerte por seguirle.   esto todo causas.   Dulce nombre te dieron; amargos hechos hazes.   No das yguales galardones.   Iniqua es la ley, que a todos ygual no es.   Alegra tu sonido; entristece tu trato.   Bienauenturados los que no conociste   o de los que no te curaste.   Dios te llamaron otros,   no sé con qué error de su sentido traydos.   Cata que Dios mata los que crió;   tú matas los que te siguen.   Enemigo de toda razón, a los que menos te siruen das   mayores dones,   hasta tenerlos metidos en tu congoxosa dança.   Enemigo de amigos, amigo de enemigos,   ¿Por qué te riges sin orden ni concierto?  

 What end  have thy servants and ministers had?  As also that  false bawd, Celestina, who died by the hands of the faithfullest companions, that ever she lighted upon in  her life, for their true performance in this thy  venomous and impoisoned service?  They lost their  heads; Calisto, he brake his neck; and my daughter to  imitate him submitted herself to the selfsame death.   And of all this thou wast the cause: they gave thee a  sweet name; but thy deeds are exceeding sour; thou  dost not give equal rewards; and that law is unjust,  which is not equal alike unto all.  Thy voice promiseth pleasure, but thy actions proclaim pain;  happy are they who have not know thee, or knowing thee  have not cared for thee.  Some led with, I know not  what error, have not sticked to call thee a god; but  I would have such fools as these to consider with  themselves, it savors not! of a deity to murder or destroy those  that serve and follow him.  O thou enemy to all reason!   To those that serve thee least, thou givest  thy greatest rewards, until thou has brought them at  last into this thy troublesome dance.  Thou art an  enemy to thy friends and a friend to thy enemies; and  all this is, because thou dost not govern thyself  according to order and reason.  

  Ciego te pintan, pobre y moço.   Pónente vn arco en la mano, con que tiras a tiento;   más ciegos son tus ministros,   que jamás sienten ni veen el desabrido galardón que se saca de tu seruicio.   Tu fuego es de ardiente rayo,   que jamás haze señal do llega.   La leña, que gasta tu llama, son almas y vidas de humanas criaturas.   las quales son tantas, que de quien començar pueda, apenas me ocurre.   No sólo de christianos; mas de gentiles y judíos   y todo en pago de buenos seruicios.   ¿Qué me dirás de aquel Macías de nuestro tiempo,   cómo acabó amando, cuyo triste fin tú fuiste la causa?   ¿Qué hizo por ti Paris?? Qué Elena?   ¿Qué hizo Ypermestra?? Qué Egisto?   Todo el mundo lo sabe.   Pues a Sapho, Ariadna, Leandro,  

They paint thee blind,  poor, and young; they put a bow into thy hand, wherein  thou drawest, and shootest at random; but more blind  are they that serve thee.  For they never taste or see  the unsavoury and distasteful recompense, which they receive by thy service; thy fire is of hot burning  lightning, which scorches unto death, yet leaves no  impression or print of any wound at all. The sticks  which thy flames consume, are the souls and lives of  human creatures, which are so infinite and so  numberless, that is scarce occurreth unto me, with  whom I should first begin; not only to Christians, but of Gentiles and of Jews; and all forsooth in requital  of their good services.  What shall I speak of that  Maciasor or our times; and how by loving, he came to  his end?  Or whose sad and woeful death thou wast the  sole cause.  What service did Paris do thee?  What  Helena?&! nbsp; What Clytemnestra?  What Aegisthus?  All the world knows how it went with them.  How well likewise  didst thou requite Sappho, Ariadne, and Leander.  

 ¿Qué pago les diste?   Hasta Dauid y Salomón no quisiste dexar sin pena.   Por tu amistad Sansón pagó lo que mereció,   por creerse de quien tú le forçaste a darle fe.   otros muchos, que callo,   porque tengo harto que contar en mi mal.   Del mundo me quexo, porque en sí me crió,   porque no me dando vida, no engendrara en él a Melibea;   no nascida, no amara;   no amando, cessara mi quexosa y desconsolada postrimería.   ¡O mi compañera buena¡   ¡O mi hija despedaçada¡   ¿Por qué no quesiste que estoruasse tu muerte?   ¿Por qué no houiste lástima de tu querida y amada madre?   ¿Por qué te mostraste tan cruel con tu viejo padre?   ¿Por qué me dexaste, quando yo te havía de dexar?   ¿Por qué me dexaste penado?   ¿Por qué me dexaste triste y solo in hac lachrymarum valle.

And many other  besides, whom I willingly silence, because I have  enough to do in the repetition of mine own misery?  I  complain me of the world because I was bred up in it;  for had not the world given me life, I had not therein  begot Melibea; not being begot, she had not been born;  not being born, I had not loved her; and not loving her, I should not have mourned, as now I do, in this  my latter and uncomfortable old age!   O my good  companion! O my bruised daughter, bruised even all to  pieces!   Why wouldst thou not suffer me to divert thy  death?  Why wouldst thou not take pity of thy kind and  loving mother? Why didst thou shew thyself so cruel  against thy aged father?  Why hast thou left me thus  in sorrow?  Why hast thou left me comfortless, and all  alone, in hac lachrimarum valle, in this veil of  tears and shadow of death?