_M._ Well, Ferdinand, I do not care, If it must be so, no more be said.

505 _F._ Many a day hast thou heard that from me But thou e'er hadst me in disdain.

_C._ O Ferdinand, my uncle's swain, Would that I might marry thee!

_G._ O Madanela, if only now 510 We had come together, I and thou.

_C._ Rather might I straight expire Than that Ferdinand should stay there So remote from my desire.

Yet I do not greatly care, 515 Since to thee I am inclined, Goncalo.

_G._ And even so, Catalina, art thou to my mind, But come away that I may know What graces I in thee shall find.

520 _F._ Rodrigo, as I look upon thee I begin to grow content.

_R._ If to that I have not won thee By me no further prayers be spent.

For while I have courted thee 525 Daily hast thou flouted me.

_C._ Though from time to time I thus, Rodrigo, behaved, truly Very fond was I of thee.

And when most contemptuous 530 Thy wife I refused to be 'Twas not that I had no love But, that I tested thee, to prove The heart of thy audacity.

_Hermit._ Now I have a mind to say 535 What I came to look for here.

For my wish it is to stay In a hermitage that may Yield me plenty of good cheer.

Ready-made would I find it: ill 540 Could I all these joys fulfil Worn out by toil and labour fell.

Wide not narrow be my cell That I may dance therein at will; Be it in a desert land 545 Yielding wine and wheat alway, With a fountain near at hand And contemplation far away.

Much fish and game in brake and pool Must I have for my own preserve 550 And as for my house it must never swerve From an even temperature, cool In summer and in winter warm.

Yes, and a comfortable bed Would not do me any harm, 555 All of it of cedar-wood, A harpsichord hung at its head: So do I find a monk's life good.

I would lie and take my rest And sleep on far into the day 560 So that I could not my matins say For noise of the whistling and the singing Of shepherdesses' songs clear ringing.

On partridge would I sup and dine, Of stockfish should my luncheon be 565 And of wine the very best.

And the Judge's daughter should make for me The bed on which I would recline.

And even as my beads I tell She should forget her flock of sheep 570 And embrace me in my cell And bite my ears and make me weep: Yes, even thus it would be well.

My brothers, since you know, I trow The recesses of each vale and hill 575 Be good enough to tell me now Where best I may so have my will And this holy life fulfil.

_G._ Yonder, padre, there's a briar All in flower, thick and green, 580 And its thorns are long and dire: Naked laid thereon, I ween You would soon lose your desire.

Go and make no further stay, For the life you wish to live 585 The true G.o.d will never give Howsoe'er for it you pray.

_Serra._ Come, my sons, now come away, Each with his fair bride to-day, That our Queen and Sovereign we 590 May go visit speedily, And let none of you gainsay, For you must go all together, Since, if report say true, I ween I as nurse must serve the Queen 595 And therefore do I go thither.

Such milk as mine you will not find No, not in all Portugal, So plentiful and such kind As G.o.d has blessed me withal: 600 Pure b.u.t.ter were not more refined.

And since she will be princess Of such flocks and all this land, No other nurse shall be to hand, For the perfect shepherdess 605 My hill-sides alone command.

_G._ From every village, house and town Great presents must with us come down.

_S._ The town of Sea of its store Shall five hundred cheeses send 610 All home-made, and furthermore Of calves will she send thrice five score And of her merino sheep A thousand, and lambs two hundred keep So fat that on no hills you'll find 615 Any more unto your mind.

And two thousand sacks Gouvea Of chestnuts that there abound Of such size, so fine and round That all men will wonder where 620 Things so excellent are found.

And Manteigas will prepare A store of milk for years twice seven, By Covilham much fine cloth be given That is manufactured there.

625 From the houses in the heather High upon the mountain-top, For pillows shall be sent a crop All of royal eagles' feather That men there are wont to gather.

630 From the Penados vale below And the hills where three roads meet That through rough mountain country go They will send as present meet Three hundred ermines white as snow 635 As edging of brocades to show.

Mines of gold too I will bring And give all I have within If the Queen and if the King Order it to be brought in: 640 Plenty is there there to win.

_G._ And with presents none the less Will we in her honour sing With great joy and revelling That G.o.d hath willed the Queen to bless 645 For her people's happiness.

_Enter two players from Sardoal, Jorge and Lopo, and the Serra says:_

From Castille, brothers, do you hale Or from down yonder in the vale?

_J._ Now in the devil's name, amen, They would have us be Castilian men 650 A lizard I would rather be By the Holy Gospels verily.

_S._ Well and from what land come you then?

_J._ From Sardoal, and by your leave We are come hither to defy 655 The Serra our challenge to receive With us in song and dance to vie.

_R._ 'Tis a proud challenge for your ill, For shepherds are so many here And their dancing of such skill 660 That of none need they have fear.

_L._ Many peasants come yonder too From the hills for sustenance And we watch them sing and dance Even as up here they do: 665 Their way of it shall you see at a glance.

_Lopo sings and dances in imitation of the men of the Serra:_

Ah, should I lay my hand on you, Love, fair my love.

A friend of mine, a friend of old, Sends unto me apples of gold, 670 How fair is love!

A friend I loved, even my friend, Apples, apples of gold doth send.

So fair is love!

Apples of gold he sends amain, 675 The best of them was cleft in twain, So fair is love!

[Apples of gold he sends to me, The best was cleft for all to see.

How fair is love!]

(_Spoken:_)

680 That I think is, well or ill, How you dance on fell and hill.

_S._ But now I would have you sing As in Sardoal they do.

_L._ That is quite another thing, 685 Wait then and I'll show it you: Now no more my lady wills That I speak with her alone.

How am I now woe-begone!

On a day my lady said 690 That she would fain speak with me, Now I for my sins atone Since she says it may not be.

How am I now woe-begone!

For to me my lady said 695 That she fain would speak with me, Now I for my sins atone Since me now she will not see.

How am I now woe-begone!

Now I for my sins atone 700 Since she says it may not be, Through the world will I begone Where'er fortune carry me.

How am I now woe-begone!

_The players sing this song, dancing together, and when it is finished Felipa says:_

I pray you go not away so, 705 But wait until the fiddle come, O wait until you hear the drum, Then how to move you'll scarcely know So dead with dancing shall you go.

_C._ And meanwhile by my life I ween 710 'Twere well that we our dance and song Should order here upon the green And we will go with it along To see the King and see the Queen.

_All these shepherds took their places in the dance after their custom, but its song was sung to the accompaniment of the organ and with the following words:_

O strike me not, mother, 715 The truth I'm confessing.

For, mother, a squire Of our queen all on fire With love came to woo me: Of what he said to me 720 The truth I'm confessing.

He came for to woo me And 'O,' said he to me, 'Were you in my power, Alone without dower!'