Four Key Plays by Lorca Federico García; Kidd Michael;

Author:Lorca, Federico García; Kidd, Michael;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hackett Publishing Company, Incorporated
Published: 2018-01-11T00:00:00+00:00

Act 2, Tableau 2

(Outside the BRIDE’s cave. Shades of grayish white and cold blue. Large prickly pear cactuses. Somber, silvery hues. Wheat-colored panoramas, harsh like the landscapes of folk art.)

MAID. (Arranging cups and trays at a table.)

Turning, turning went the wheel

as the water ran through,

and now the wedding is here

so let the branches be parted

and let the moon shine true

on its veranda so pale.

{78} (Loudly.)

Set the table!

(Emotionally.)

Singing, singing went the lovers

as the water beat the wheel,

and now the wedding is here

so let the frost shimmer

and let the bitter almonds

with sweetest honey fill.

(Loudly.)

Prepare the wine!

(Emotionally.)

My beauty, my pastoral beauty,

see how the water runs.

Your wedding is here

so gather your clothes

under your husband’s wing

and never leave your home.

For your groom is a dove

with his breast afire

and the hills do await

the whisper of blood.

Turning, turning went the wheel

as the water ran through.

Your wedding is here,

may it sparkle like dew!

GROOM’S MOTHER. (Entering.) Finally!

BRIDE’S FATHER. Are we the first to arrive?

MAID. No. Leonardo and his wife arrived a while ago. They raced like the devil. His wife was scared to death. They covered the distance as if on horseback.

BRIDE’S FATHER. He’s looking for trouble, that one. He doesn’t come from good blood.

GROOM’S MOTHER. What do you expect from that family? The evil blood goes back to his great-grandfather, who started the killing, and it continues in the whole sorry clan today. Backstabbers, all of them.

BRIDE’S FATHER. Let’s drop it!

{79} MAID. How do you expect her to drop it?

GROOM’S MOTHER. Grief runs to the tips of my veins. Face to face with all of them and I see nothing but the hand that killed what was mine. You see the state I’m in? Do I seem crazy to you? It comes from bottling up what deserves to be shouted from the rooftop. There’s a voice in my breast that’s always about to shout and I just have to push it down and muzzle it. The dead are carted away and you have to keep your mouth shut or people will gossip.

(She takes off her shawl.)

BRIDE’S FATHER. Today’s not the day to think about all that.

GROOM’S MOTHER. When it comes up, I have to have my say. Today of all days, when my home has been emptied.

BRIDE’S FATHER. It’ll be full again soon enough.

GROOM’S MOTHER. That’s my hope: grandchildren.

(They sit.)

BRIDE’S FATHER. I want them to have a lot. This land is desperate for skilled hands. It’s a constant battle against the weeds, the thistles, the rocks that spring up from who knows where. No more hired hands. Only landowners know how to thrash the earth and dominate it and make it sprout with seed. Many sons are needed.

GROOM’S MOTHER. And a daughter or two! Men come and go like the wind! They have to carry weapons. Girls never even go outside.

BRIDE’S FATHER. (Cheerfully.) I think they’ll have a lot of both.

GROOM’S MOTHER. My son won’t disappoint. He’s of fertile stock. His father could have had many children with me.

BRIDE’S FATHER. What I wish is that it could happen quickly.

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