A. Took it without a word, blow on blow. He comes home late at night, being shut in the house all day since he dare not show himself on account of his clothes. And he calls out gaily, “To supper,” as if he had supper ready. And I have nothing for him, and he has nothing for me to give him. And he takes a crust of bread and a shrivelled turnip and fastens his teeth in it like a dog. I don’t know how he keeps up his strength.[49]
THE MOÇO’S COMPLAINT
Do they call a chest a bed here or is there no meaning in words! All my nights in his house were nights spent in an open boat at sea, not to speak of other evils. Senhor Judge, I have been six years in this gentleman’s service, and might have been a barber by now but for his false promises. When I entered his service he was in better plight, but now, good lack, it is all up with him, and his guitar, and his horse, and his bed, and his clothes, and my service, and all the rest. This last night, as I lay ill at ease on a chest with my feet hanging over, he woke me up at one o’clock, and: “O, if you knew, Fernando, what verses I have just made.” He bids me light the lamp and hold the inkstand for him, and there was his dog howling and I standing there cursing because in my first sleep my master must needs make verses.[50]
THE NOBLEMAN’S CHAPLAIN
Chaplain. Senhor, it seems time....
Nobleman. Say on, padre, say on.
C. I say that it is close on three years that I have been your chaplain.
N. Most true. Say on.
C. And I might have been the Prince’s or even the King’s.