EXHORTATION TO WAR
A monologue from the play by Gil Vicente
| NOTE: This monologue is reprinted from Four Plays of Gil Vicente. Trans. Aubrey F.G. Bell. Cambridge: University Press, 1920. |
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- ACHILLES: When Jupiter in all his might
- Was seated on his throne
- And in his strength ordered aright
- By his right hand alone
- The courses of the day and night;
- And warrior Mars to Earth had lent
- His bolts of victory
- And parted with his armament;
- When Saturn still slept peacefully
- With all his firmament;
- When the Sun shone with clearer light
- And an intenser ray
- And the Moon's beams illumed the night,
- More brightly than noonday,
- And Venus sang her loveliest lay;
- When wisdom, that he now doth keep,
- Was given by Mercury,
- And mirth flashed o'er the heaven's steep
- And the winds were gently hushed asleep
- And a calm lay on the sea;
- When joy and fame together checked
- The hands of destiny
- And glory's flags the poles bedecked
- And the heavens, by no clouds beflecked,
- Gleamed in their radiancy;
- When every heart with unfeigned cheer
- Was merry upon Earth,
- In that day and month and year,
- When all these portents did appear,
- Your Highnesses had birth.
- Now I, Achilles, in my youth
- Lived here for many days
- And happy am I in good sooth
- To see the kingdom's splendid growth
- Honoured in countless ways.
- Its noble sons these honours reap,
- But let no careless strain
- Prevent you what you win to keep;
- Ye prelates, 'tis no time for sleep!
- Ye priests, do not complain!
- When mighty Rome was in full sail
- Conquering all the Earth
- The girls and matrons without fail,
- That so the soldiers should prevail,
- Gave all their jewels' worth.
- Then O ye shepherds of the Church
- Down, down with Mahomet's creed!
- Leave not the fighters in the lurch!
- For if to scourge yourselves you speed
- Then Rome may spare the birch.
- You should sell your chalices,
- Yes and pawn your breviaries,
- Turn your gourds into flasks, and e'er
- Of bread and parsnips make your fare,
- To vanquish thus your enemies.
MORE MONOLOGUES BY GIL VICENTE
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