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Acto XXI
Sumario: PLEBERIO, tornado a su camara con grandisimo llanto,
preguntale ALISA, su muger, la causa de tan supito mal. Cuentale la muerte de su
hija MELIBEA, mostrandole el cuerpo ella todo fecho pedaccedilos, y haziendo su
planto, concluye. |
Act XXI
Argument: Pleberio goes back to his room with many tears. Alisa, his wife, asks
him what the cause is for his suffering. He tells her of the death of his daughter
Melibea and shows Alisa the body, which is in little pieces. He concludes with his
lament. |
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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. |
Ali.__What has happened, sir Pleberio? Why are you sobbing so loudly? I have
been sleeping very anxiously because of the worries I have had since I heard that our
daughter was in pain; now, you have penetrated my body and trespassed my heart
with the crying that I hear, your loud voice, your uncommon grieving and your
anguish and sobs which are full of emotion. They have enlivened my senses which
were already disturbed and I have had to put aside the pain I previously had. One pain
removes the other. Tell me the cause for your grief. Why do you curse your honorable
old age? Why do you ask for death? Why are you pulling out your white hairs? Why
are you scratching at your honorable face? Is something wrong with Melibea? By
God, tell me what it is, because if she is suffering I no longer want live. |
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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 postrimería. !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. |
Ple.__Oh, oh, noble woman! Our joy is in the well. All of our good has been lost.
We will not want to live any longer! And so that this unexpected pain should cause
you more sorrow, and more quickly you should go to your grave, and so that I do not
cry all alone our painful loss; you can see there is the one you gave birth to and I
begot, scattered in pieces. She told me the reason for her death, but I learned more
from her sad servant. Help me to cry for our wounded old age. Oh people that will
come to see my pain! Oh friends and gentlemen, help me to feel my pain! Oh my
daughter and all my good! It is cruel that I should live longer than you. |
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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 compañqía. !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? ¿Para quién
adquirí honrras? ¿Para quién planté árboles? ¿Para quién fabriqué nauíos? ¡O tierra
dura! ¿Cómo me sostienes? ¿Adónde hallará abrigo mi desconsolada vegez?
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My sixty years deserve to be in the grave more than your twenty. The order of life has
been disturbed because of your sadness. Oh, my gray hairs have come out only so that
I could suffer! It would have been better for us to be delighting of the earth now
instead of the one with the blonde hair that I see. Terrible days are ahead of me, but
how should I complain to death? Can I accuse him of delay for as long as I am left
after you? My life is over if I do not have your agreeable companionship. Oh my
wife! Get up from over her body; if you have any life left in you, waste it with me and
my sad sobs, tears and sighs. Is your spirit already with hers? Have you already left
life because of the pain? But why did you want for me to go through all of this alone?
Women are better for this than men, for you can be taken out of the world because of
a great pain and not feel anything or you can at least lose control of your senses,
which is also a type of rest. Oh hardened heart of a father! How can you not break
from the pain, which is cause by the loss of your beloved heir? For whom did I build
these towers? For whom did I adquire honor? Why did I plant trees? For whom did I
make ths ships? Oh hard earth! How can you sustain me? Where will I find the
shelter for my disconsolate old-age? |
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¡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. |
Oh variable fortune, minister and steward of temporal goods! Why did you not
execute you cruel ire and your mutable waves on me when I am also your subject?
Why did you not destroy my estate instead? Why did you not my house on fire? Why
did you not rob me of all my riches? You should have left me that flowery plant, over
which you should not have had any power; you should have given me, fluctuating
fortune, a sorrowful youth and a happy old age; you should not have perverted the
order. I would rather suffer the persecutions of your deceit when I was strong and
robust and not during the weakness of my old age. Oh life full of grief, accompanied
by misery! Oh world, world! Many have spoken about you and many have taken your
goods; they have compared you to various things from what they heard, but I, out of
my sad experience will tell you, since I am the one who did not prosper from the
sales and purchases of your deceitful carnival. Until now, I have kept quiet about your
false properties so that I would not light up your ire with hatred, so that you would
not pluck the flower which today you have in your power. |
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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 now without fear, like one who has nothing to lose, like one who is already
angered by your company and like the poor wanderer who sings out loud without the
fear of cruel thieves. When I was very young I though that you and your doings were
ruled by some kind of order; now, having seen the pros and cons of your benefits, it
appears to me that you are a labyrinth of woes, a frightening desert, a house full of
wild animals, a game where men run around in circles, a lagoon full of mud, a region
full of bones, a tall mountain, a field full of stones, a meadow full of snakes, a
flowering garden without fruit, a fountain of worries, a river of tears, a sea of misery,
work without benefit, a sweet poison, a vain desire, a false happiness and true pain.
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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 compañqía
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 have been hurt and as much as my fatigued memory tries to remember in the past
and the present, there is nobody that has suffered a grief comparable to mine. For if
the extremely patient Paulus Emilius were to try to console me with the fact that he
had two sons killed in seven days and that it was his courage that helped him to
console the Roman people and not the other way around, I would not be satisfied, for
he still had two other adopted children left. What company would Pericles, the
Athenian captain give me, or the mighty Xenophon? For their sons died when they
were away from their land. It was easy for Pericles to change and calm his expression
and for the other to tell his messenger that he would not be punished for the sad news
he brought about the death of his son, because he himself was not sad. He could not
even say, world full of evil, that my loss was similar to that of Anaxagoras and that
we had the same emotions; for my beloved daughter is dead, just like his only son. He
said: I am mortal, |
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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? |
but my Melibea killed herself of her own free will in front of my very eyes, all
because of the pain she had from love, while the other was killed in a very just battle.
Oh incomparable loss! Oh injured old man! For the more I look for consolation, the
less reason I find to be consoled. For, the prophet and the king David told his son,
when he made himself ill from crying, that when you die you do not cry and that it is
crazy to cry for that which cannot be recuperated. He said there was much more in
life which he could use to patch up his wound. But I am not crying because I am sad
that she died, but because of the disastrous cause for which she did it. Now I will lose
along with you, my unlucky daughter, the fears and the dreads that I would have
everyday: it is only your death that can relieve me of any suspicion. What will I do,
when I enter your room and retreat and it is empty? What will I do when you do not
respond when I call you? Who will be able to fulfill my great need of you? loss that
you have caused me? |
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Ninguno perdió lo que yo el día de oy, avnque algo conforme parescía la fuerte
animosidad de Lambas de Auria, duque de los atenienses 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? |
Nobody has ever lost what I have lost today, not even the courageous Lambas of
Avria, Duke of the Athens, who threw his wounded son from the ship into the sea
with his own hands. Because that is the type of death that, if they rob, one must die
for fame. But, who forced my daughter to die, except for the might strength of her
love? So you flattering world, what remedy will you give my tired old age? How can
you command me to stay with you, knowing your lies, knots, chains and nets, with
which your fish for our weak souls? Where did you put my daughter? Who will
accompany me in my empty home? Who will attend with attentions my expiring age?
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¡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. |
Oh love, love! I did not think you had the strength or the power to kill your subjects!
You wounded me during my youth, yet you let me pass through your flames: Did you
let go of me, so that I would have pay for my escape in my old age? I always thought
that I had been freed from you, when I turned forty; for I was content with my
conjugal companion when I saw that I had the fruit which you took from me today. I
did not think that you used the children to take revenge out on their parents. Nor did I
know whether you injure with iron or if you burn with a flame. You leave our clothes
intact; but you wound the heart. You make ugly love look beautiful. Who gave you so
much power? Who gave you such an unfitting name? If you were love, you would
love your servants. If you loved them, you would not make them suffer. If they were
alive and happy, they would not kill themselves, like my beloved daughter did just
now. |
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¿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 became of your servants and ministers? The false matchmaker Celestina died at
the hands of the most loyal friends that she had ever had in her service. They were
beheaded. Calisto fell off a wall and my poor daughter wanted to give herself the
same death so that she could follow him. You have caused all of this. They gave you
a sweet name; but you have made it bitter. Unjust is the law that is not equal to all.
You sound happy, but you create pain. Lucky are those whom you do not know or did
not care to know you Others may have called you a god, but they are mistaken. God
kills those he creates, but you kill your followers. You are the enemy of all reason.
You give those who serve you greater gifts only to entrap them in your wretched
dance. You are the enemy of your friends, and the friend of your enemies. Why do
you conduct yourself without any order or reason? |
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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 you as blind, young and poor. They put an arch in your hand, from which
you shoot at random; your servants are blinder because they do not sense nor see the
bitter reward that comes from your service. Your fire comes from a burning rod of
lightning that does not signal when it is coming. The wood, which your flames
consume, is made of the souls and lives of human beings, and there are so many of
them I would not even know were to start. Not only of Christians, but also of gentiles
and Jews, and all as a reward for their good service. What would you tell me about
Macias, the one who's life you ended when he fell in love? What did Paris do for
you? What about Helen? What did Clytemnestra do? What about Aegisthus? The
whole world knows it. For what pay did you give Sappho, Ariadne, and Leander?
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¿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 despedazada! ¿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?
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You did not even leave David and Solomon free from pain. Because of your
friendship Samson paid for what he deserved, because he thought that the one you
gave him would be faithful. And many others that I do not say, because I have enough
of my own suffering to talk about. I complain about the evil world that I was raised
in, because if it had not given me life, I would not have begotten Melibea; if she had
not been born, she would not have loved; if I had not loved her, my sorrowful and
distressful old age would go away. Oh my good companion! Oh my daughter broken
in pieces! Why did you not want me to prevent your death? Why did you not feel
sorry for your beloved mother? Why were you so cruel to your old father? Why did
you leave me, when it was I that should have left you? Why did you leave me in
anguish? Why did you leave me sad and alone in this valley of tears? |
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