Cristina I will go as far as putting it
where she can see it,615
but, as for the rest,
I fear I cannot satisfy you.

Don Ambrosio Contrive that she reads it, my friend.
The happiness of this sad person
depends on that alone.620

Cristina I have said I will ensure she sees it.
Perhaps, out of curiosity,
Marcela might wish to read it.
One must exercise caution
with her considerable virtue.625
I will not open my mouth
to say a single word to her.
Love’s power, be it great or small,
does not work within her.

Don Ambrosio Is Don Antonio, by any chance, attentive to her?630

Cristina As to a sister.

Don Ambrosio Who can guarantee his intentions are so healthy?
Her father has been ill-advised.

Cristina She does not have one.

Don Ambrosio [aside] Yes she does,635
but it does not suit my purpose
to reveal that I know.
My tongue must hold the key
to my suspicions,
some of which are very serious,640
and my heart must not give them away.

Cristina You must go, señor—
a page from the house is here.

Don Ambrosio My friend, take this tiny reward
for your diligence and pains.645
You can count on mountains of riches to come!

Cristina The least of your favours is usually a Potosí…
you know, that goldmine in Peru.

Quiñones Cristina, who was the handsome man
who so submissively composed his lines?650
‘I am yours, and I surrender to you’
‘By God, the kitchen maid is pretty!’
He gives his orders and commands—
‘Put that there, take that away'—
and also plays the jealous lover.655

Cristina Mr high-and-mighty page
would do better to bite off his tongue
than speak words of disapproval.
Have you become another Ocaña?
Jealousy and more jealousy!660

Quiñones Be quiet! Can’t you see we’re in the street.

Cristina Oh, goodness me!
The sad little boy is getting cross!

Quiñones Not so loud, Cristina.
That kind of crowing deserves…665

Cristina What, my ruffian?

Quiñones A slap.

Cristina In my face?

Quiñones Why not? I could slap a priest’s face.

Cristina And you would raise your hands against such beauty670
as the heavens put in my rosy cheeks?

Quiñones Jealousy’s revenge is always crazed.
Ocaña is coming—
walk on and hide amongst the crowd.

Ocaña My sun has left the orient675
and is heading westwards,
trailing behind her the shade
that steals her rosy glow.
For me she is not a sun,
but a fog that darkens my mind.680
May it please God, humble page,
scourge of all my hopes,
that you are not favoured,
nor your lineage esteemed.
I hope you serve a vagabond685
who gives short rations,
and that your estate’s some dive.
Let nobody mourn you when you die,
and if the heavens lead you
to serve someone with a title,690
let the butler declare himself your enemy.
May you not profit from the candle ends,
nor take pleasure in the leftovers,
and may you never grow whiskers,
so you always remain a page.695
May they call you rude names,
and may you lose your rations gambling,
which is the worst curse a man can utter.