[Enter SALEC, a Turk, and ROBERTO, dressed as a Greek, and an ARAB1 behind them, dressed in a mantle of rough cloth; he carries many bits of oakum on a lance and, on the end of a quince branch, a piece of paper like a note, and a small candle lit in his hand; this ARAB goes to the side of the stage, without speaking a word, and then ROBERTO says:]
ROBERTO.
The splendor and majesty of this tyrant clearly extend beyond human power. But what apparition is this, his lance half covered with oakum? He seems an Arab by his dress.
SALEC.
The poor here have this custom when one comes to seek justice (which only interest can attain): he prepares a stick with oakum, and when the Turk passes by he sets it on fire. The Turk stops at its brightness; he loudly demands justice; the guards make way for him, and the poor man, like a dart, approaches in a fluster. On the tip of a stick he presents his petition to the Grand Signor, who pauses for that purpose. Then it is given to a handsome garzon,2 who keeps track of these petitions and later recounts them; but these wretches’ business never comes to a good end: interest holds sway, and they are denied.
ROBERTO.
I’ve seen such marvelous things here that the liveliest mind wonders at them.
SALEC.
You’ll see even more striking things. The Grand Signor’s already on foot; you can behold him at your pleasure, for a Christian can look him in the face at his leisure. It’s forbidden for any Moor or Turk to raise an eye to him, and in this he exceeds all majesty.
[At this moment the TURK3 enters with a large entourage; in front of him goes a PAGE dressed in the Turkish fashion, with an arrow in his upraised hand, and behind the TURK two other GARZONS follow with two green velvet sacks, in which they place the papers the TURK gives them.]
ROBERTO.
He’s certainly a good-looking young man, justly famed for his poise and elegance.
SALEC.
Today the Turk prays Salah4 in St. Sophia, that temple you see there, greater than any other in Turkey.
ROBERTO.
The Moor sets his torch on fire and shouts; the Turk calmly stops, a sign of mercy and nobility. The Moor comes up to him; he’s given him a petition; the Grand Signor takes it and gives it to a handsome garzon who’s nearly beside him.
[While ROBERTO is saying this and the TURK passes by, SALEC keeps his body bowed down and his head inclined, without looking at his face.]
SALEC.
This audience is not denied to the poor. Can I raise my head?
ROBERTO.
Rise and look, for the Grand Signor is arriving at the mosque, whose greatness fills me with wonder even from here.
[Exit the GRAND SIGNOR. SALEC and ROBERTO remain onstage.]
SALEC.
What do you think, Roberto, of the splendor and majesty displayed here before you?
ROBERTO.
I can’t believe the truth and doubt what’s certain.
There are six thousand soldiers on foot and on horseback.
ROBERTO.
So it appears.
SALEC.
There’s no question; they number six thousand.
ROBERTO.
All together, they cause wonder, pleasure, and dread.
SALEC.
When he goes to Salah he brings this entourage with him; and it’s the day of xumá,5 as the Moors call Friday.
ROBERTO.
He is well accompanied! Now, since we have some time, I want to finish what I started telling you yesterday.
SALEC.
Begin again, friend.
ROBERTO.
I’ve come to seek that young man of whom I spoke: for I love him more than the soul that sustains me, more than my very eyes. Ever since he was very young, I was his tutor and teacher, and showed him the narrow road to the temple of fame; I set his steps on the narrow path of virtue; I kept his youthful desires in check. But my well-considered advice, my Christian badgering, a thousand examples of good and evil, were not enough to prevent Love, that monfí6 of youth, from assaulting him in his tender age.
He fell in love with Clara, the daughter of Lamberto, that German nobleman whom you met in Prague. Her parents and her beauty gave her the name of Clara;7 but now her misfortunes have cast a shadow over her. He asked for her hand in marriage but did not succeed in his attempt, not because the marriage was unequal or misguided, but because misfortunes come from afar, and there is no human diligence that can prevent them.
To conclude: he carried her off, for when wills are set on pleasure they lose all respect and fear. Alone and on foot on a cold winter’s night the poor lovers fled they knew not where, and by the time I had noticed the absence of Lamberto (for that is the name of the wretch I come to seek), I saw him before me, faint of breath, face covered in cold sweat, and much distressed. He threw himself at my feet, his color like a dead man’s, and with a voice racked by sobs said: “I’m dying, my father and lord, for these names I owe you. The Turks of Rocaferro8 have taken Clara captive. I, a coward, a wretch, and a traitor—I can’t deny it—have left her in their hands, since I was fleet of foot. This very night I was taking her I know not where, but I do know that, if Fortune had willed it, we’d both be in heaven.” At this sad news, I was left in confused silence, without daring to ask him: “My son, how could this happen?” The martial din of the alarm sounded by the town bells brought me out of my puzzlement. I mounted straightaway, Lamberto did the same, and a whole troop of armored horses set out. The dark made us lose the trace of those who took Clara, and others whose absence was noticed at daybreak. Fearing an ambush, we didn’t stray far from the town, to which we returned exhausted and without Lamberto.
SALEC.
How? Did he stay back on purpose?
ROBERTO.
On purpose, I suspect, for he hasn’t shown up since, dead or alive. Clara’s father offered a huge sum for her, but he could not get her back at any price. It was said that the Turk who owned her had presented her to the Grand Signor for her great beauty. To find out if this is true, and for word of Lamberto, I’ve come here, as you see, dressed as a Greek. I speak the language well enough to pass as one.
SALEC.
Even if you’d never learned it, you needn’t worry: here all is confusion, and we make ourselves understood in a mixed language that we both know and don’t know.9 But you won’t escape from me; I recognized you the moment I saw you.
ROBERTO.
An excellent memory!
SALEC.
It was always good.
ROBERTO.
How, then, have you forgotten who you are?
SALEC.
Let’s not discuss that now: tomorrow we’ll talk of my affairs; for, truth be told, I don’t believe in anything.
ROBERTO.
You seem a fine atheist.
SALEC.
I know not how I seem; all I know is that I will clearly show you, through my works, that I’m your friend just as before. To learn of Clara, a eunuch from the Turk’s household will serve—he’s my friend. Meanwhile, you can look for Lamberto: perhaps his body is now a prisoner, as his soul once was.
[Exeunt. Enter MAMÍ and RUSTÁN, eunuchs].
MAMÍ.
Keep your mouth shut, Rustán, and don’t use me to back up your word, empty of all truth. You lie in everything you say, and there’s no doubt you’re a Christian. Keeping the captive Spaniard locked away like this for so long and concealing her is proof enough of your bad intentions. You’ve kept the Grand Signor from enjoying the greatest beauty in the world. It is wrong to give him ripe fruit when unripened is better. For six years you’ve hidden her and shielded her with precautions that can last no longer, and now you go to great lengths to reveal her? But just wait, you dog, hold on, and you’ll see how one keeps faith with the Grand Signor!
Mami, my friend, wait, wait!
MAMÍ.
Punishment comes, even if it takes time. One who knows of treachery and yet does not reveal it at once seems partly to condone it. I’ve discovered yours today, and so I shall go to the Grand Signor to tell him of your wrongdoing.
[He exits.]
RUSTÁN.
There’s no denying it: I am as good as impaled.
[Enter DOÑA10 CATALINA DE OVIEDO, the Great Sultana, dressed in the Turkish fashion.]
SULTANA.
What news, Rustán?
RUSTÁN.
My lady, the hour of our untimely death has come: my soul is warning me, for it weeps despite my resolve. For though I seem like a woman, I never shed tears for a great good or ill, as is often the case. My lady, Mamí, with cleverness and wicked intent, has found out how long I have kept you hidden, and has judged my loyalty for treachery and for sin. He’s headed directly to the Grand Signor to tell the tale of evil I held to be good, his wicked heart ever full of malice and rage.
SULTANA.
What shall we do?
RUSTÁN.
Await death with what integrity we can muster, although I know the Sultan will respect your beauty. He won’t kill you; Rustán will be the one to die, as the author of this case.
SULTANA.
Is the Grand Signor cruel?
They call him gentle, but he’s really a tyrant.
SULTANA.
With all this, I trust in God, whose powerful hand will free us both from this justifiable fear. And if the heavens be closed to me because of my sins, and do not hear my request, I shall ready my heart for a more terrible outcome. This inhumane one will not triumph over my soul, only over my body, which is weak, fragile, and vain.
RUSTÁN.
I feared my Christian behavior would lead to this. But I’m not sorry; rather, I’m armed with patience and forbearance against any torture.
SULTANA.
We’re of the same mind. I’m prepared to accept as a gift any punishment that befalls me.
RUSTÁN.
Such beauty is never condemned to death. Your loveliness will bring you not punishment but good fortune; I, on the other hand, will find my grave in the fire, I fear.
SULTANA.
Though the world offer me all the treasures of the earth and sea, though the peerless Enemy make war on me with legions of his infernal squadron, they will not change my good intentions, my Lord, for I trust in you. At a tender age, I lost, dear God, my liberty, which I hardly knew. The beauty you gave me, Lord, brought me here. If it is to be the instrument of my undoing, I consent—a Christian and sane hope—to losing my beauty instantly, by a miracle. This rosy hue my flattering mirror shows—wither it with your right hand; make me ugly, Lord; for the beauty of the body should not surpass the soul’s.
RUSTÁN.
You’re right. But we should not tarry here, without making a plan or finding a way to excuse or remedy our fault.
SULTANA.
There is a great distance between remedy and excuse. Let’s prepare ourselves, friend, to die like Christians.
That’s the most important remedy that you can ask of heaven.
[Exeunt. Enter MAMÍ, the eunuch, and the GRAND SIGNOR.]
MAMÍ.
Morato Arráez,11 Grand Signor, presented her to you, and she takes the first and the best prize for beauty. Rustán’s efforts have kept this great treasure hidden from your eyes for six years, going on seven, by my count.
TURK.
And is she as beautiful as you’ve said?
MAMÍ.
She is as lovely as the fresh blooming rose untouched by the sun in a closed garden; or as the serene dawn, full of dewdrops and pearls, when it rises from the bright east; or as the sun in the west, with the reflections it forms. Nature stole the best part of everything to make this piece, and so made her lovely beyond human beauty. She took two stars from the sky to place as beautiful lights for her most beautiful eyes, which makes love more powerful, since it abides in them. The whole and its parts go together so well that perfection attends them both. And her color is no less, which makes her whole shape immensely pleasing.
TURK.
This fool must be describing some goddess.
MAMÍ.
Her beauty, which is so great that it defies imagination, is surpassed by her discretion.
SULTAN.
You’ll have me worship her as something holy and divine.
MAMÍ.
The sun has never seen one like her, nor did heaven forge another in its crucible. Above all, it conferred upon her the Spanish grace. I mean, my lord, that this captive’s beauty is divine, rare in the world.
TURK.
My desire to see her grows. Her name?
MAMÍ.
Catalina, her last name de Oviedo.
TURK.
Why hasn’t she changed her name, now that she is a Turk?
MAMÍ.
I don’t know; since she hasn’t changed her faith, she desires no other name.
TURK.
So she is a Christian?
MAMÍ.
I find that she is.
TURK.
A Christian, in my seraglio?
MAMÍ.
There must be more than a few; but who could prove it? If I knew of anything else like this, I’d tell you, without concealing for a minute any word or deed or thought against you.
TURK.
This is your carelessness and evil.
MAMÍ.
I tell you I worship and serve you with the loyalty and due decorum I owe Your Majesty.
TURK.
I shall go to the seraglio this afternoon, to see if the unparalleled beauty of your exalted Spaniard chills or burns.
MAMÍ.
May Mohammed keep you, my lord.
[Exeunt. Enter MADRIGAL, a captive, and ANDREA, dressed as a Greek.]
By Roch,12 you dogs in caps, you won’t enjoy that boronía stew with beef broth!13
ANDREA.
Who are you yelling at, Christian?
MADRIGAL.
Not at nobody. Can’t you hear the racket and war cries14 from this house?
[A JEW says from within:]
JEW.
Oh dog! May G-d curse and confound you! May you never attain your beloved liberty!
ANDEA.
Tell me: why do those wretches curse you?
MADRIGAL.
I got into their house without being seen and threw a big hunk of bacon into a large pot they had of a stew called boronía.
ANDREA.
But who gave it to you?
MADRIGAL.
Some janissaries killed a wild boar in the forest the other day, which they sold to Mamud Arráez’s Christians, from whom I bought part of the jowl that’s now sunk in the pot to sink these wretches whom I resent. May the devil eat, devour, and sip them up!
[A JEW appears at the window.]
JEW.
May you die of hunger, you insolent barbarian! May G-d deny you your daily bread; may you wander from door to door begging; may they send you away from this place like a leper, you pest, you bogeyman, scourge and fear of our synagogue, our children’s enemy, our worst in the whole world!
MADRIGAL.
Look out, Jew!
JEW.
Oh no, he got me right between the eyes! O wretch!
ANDREA.
You didn’t do that.
MADRIGAL.
The thought didn’t even cross my mind!
ANDREA.
So what’s the bastard complaining about?
[From within, another JEW says:]
SECOND JEW.
Get away from the window, Zabulón, for that Spanish dog’s a devil, and will break your head open just by spitting on you and hitting his mark. Alas, what a meal we have! Alas, what a stew is lost here!
MADRIGAL.
Are you wailing at Ramah again,15 miserable rabble? Are you back once more, you dog?
SECOND JEW.
What! Haven’t you gone yet? Perhaps you want to poison the air we breathe?
MADRIGAL.
Catch this one!
[They speak within.]
Zabulón, is it no use telling you to stay out of the window? Let him go already; come inside, son.
ANDREA.
O ruined people! O vile and filthy race, what misery your fruitless waiting has brought you, your madness and incomparable obstinacy, which you call persistence and unwavering faith, against all truth and reason! Now it seems they quiet down; now the wretches suffer their hunger and trick in silence. Spaniard, do you know me?
I’d swear I’ve never seen you in my life.
ANDREA.
I’m Andrea, the spy.
MADRIGAL.
You’re Andrea?
ANDREA.
Yes, absolutely.
MADRIGAL.
The one that saved Castillo and Palomares, my comrades?
ANDREA.
And the one that took Meléndez, Arguijo, and Santisteban, all at once, and left them at their ease in Naples, enjoying their liberty.
MADRIGAL.
How did you know me?
ANDREA.
Your memory’s gone to rot, as far as I can tell, or been reduced to no good purposes. Don’t you remember that I saw you and spoke to you the night I picked up those five, and you wanted to stay solely for your pleasure, with the excuse that your soul had surrendered to love, and that an Arab woman had imprisoned and chained it in a new captivity and new laws?
MADRIGAL.
True; and I still have the yoke around my neck, I’m still captive, the great power of love still rules over me.
ANDREA.
So it would be pointless to try to get you to come with me now?
MADRIGAL.
Completely pointless.
ANDREA.
You hapless man!
MADRIGAL.
Perhaps happy.
ANDREA.
How can that be?
The laws of pleasure are very powerful.
ANDREA.
A strong resolve can break them.
MADRIGAL.
True; but it’s not the time to fight them.
ANDREA.
Aren’t you Spanish?
MADRIGAL.
Why? Because of this? Well, by the eleven thousand coats of mail, and by the high, sweet, potent desire under the collar of four rich boarders,16 I swear that I will break through mountains of diamonds and unspeakable obstacles, and I shall hoist my liberty on the very shoulders of my pleasure, and enter triumphant into the beautiful Naples with two or three galleys that will have rebelled because of my cleverness and valor, and God willing, after giving two ships to the Annunziata,17 I’ll live rich and prosperous with the other one, instead of wandering through the bagnios weighted down with misery and dread.
ANDREA.
You’re a Spaniard, there’s no question!
MADRIGAL.
Indeed, I am, I am, I have been and shall be while I live, and eighty centuries after I die.
ANDREA.
Does anyone want to escape to freedom?
MADRIGAL.
Four valiant soldiers await you, and they’re well-born, with feathers in their caps.
Are they the ones Arguijo mentioned?
MADRIGAL.
The same.
ANDREA.
I have them safe and hidden.
MADRIGAL.
What mob is this? What’s that noise?
ANDREA.
It’s the Persian ambassador, who has come to make peace with the Sultan. Move over here while he passes.
[Enter an AMBASSADOR, dressed like those that travel around here,18 accompanied by janissaries; he is dressed as a Turk.]
MADRIGAL.
How brave and gallant he looks!
ANDREA.
Most of the Persians are brave, and well built, and great horsemen.
MADRIGAL.
And, as they say, the horses are the sinews of their strength. May it please God no peace be made! Are you coming, Andrea?
ANDREA.
Take me wherever you like.
MADRIGAL.
I’m going to Uchalí’s bagnio.
ANDREA.
Take me to Morato’s, for I have to meet another spy there.
[Exeunt. Enter the TURK, RUSTÁN, and MAMÍ.]
TURK.
You give me but a weak excuse for the treachery you’ve committed against me, the greatest ever seen.
When you understand the facts, my lord, you will not blame me. When she came into my power she would not have pleased you, and it was better to keep her until she grew worthier. For many years, Great Signor, her deep melancholy left her pale.
TURK.
Who cured her?
RUSTÁN.
Zedequías, the Jew, your doctor.
TURK.
You present dead witnesses in your favor; I’m sure you’re trying to get out of this.
RUSTÁN.
I’m telling the whole truth.
TURK.
So therefore you will not lie.
RUSTÁN.
It’s barely been three days since the serene heaven of her face showed itself full of beauty, barely three days since an anxious care left her bosom. Indeed: it hasn’t been three days since the Spaniard, peerless in her beauty, broke free of her melancholy.
TURK.
You’re lying or rambling.
RUSTÁN.
I neither lie nor ramble. You can see for yourself whenever you like, my lord. Have her come to you: you’ll see her grace and pluck; you’ll see heaven in her elegance, walking the earth on human feet.
TURK.
One fear follows another, one worry another worry. I fear much, I hope much, for praise works wonders on a flatterer’s tongue; but flattery does not obtain here. Rustán, I want to see this captive now; go and get her, and by the blind god19 that amazes me, if she’s not as you’ve described, I’ll give you to the fire!
MAMÍ.
If Rustán’s fortune lies in nothing more than the captive being beautiful, and of a rare beauty, he is a happy man; he’s free from misfortune. You may start granting him favors, my lord, for soon you shall see the very heavens.
TURK.
Fool, you exceed all hyperbole. Leave something for the eyes to find in such divine spoils.
MAMÍ.
What eyes could gaze upon the red rays of Apollo and not be dazzled?
TURK.
So much praise annoys me.
MAMÍ.
Then I defer to your experience of her, whom my tongue aggrieves.
[Enter RUSTÁN and the SULTANA.]
RUSTÁN.
Speak to him gently and softly, my lady, so that he does not do away with all of us.
SULTANA.
I’ll give the key to my tongue to heaven above; I’ll throw myself at his feet; I’ll say that I am his slave, whose great fortune it is to kiss his feet.
RUSTÁN.
A wise artifice.
SULTANA.
My knees bent and my eyes on yours, my lord, I give you the spoils my humble self comprises; and if it’s arrogant to look upon you, I lower my eyes and follow the path that pleases you most.
TURK.
Ignorant, foolish people, fit, no doubt, to be tied! One could not find any more simpleminded; you who take away the fame such a high subject commands, liars, indeed! Treachery dishonors you! Any punishment would suit you well!
What bad luck for us if she seems ugly to him!
TURK.
How humanly you spoke of a divine loveliness, and how vulgarly you depicted this singular beauty! Wouldn’t it have been better to put her at Allah’s side, treading the elements and one or another bright star, issuing laws from thence, which we shall keep on earth with the same reverence and zeal as those Mohammed gave?
MAMÍ.
Didn’t I tell you she was a blooming rose in the garden? What more could the most ingenious tongue say? Didn’t I describe her as more prudent than has ever been seen before? Could a lying poet tell you more?
RUSTÁN.
I made her a heaven on human feet, my lord.
TURK.
You would have been right if you had made her its Maker.
RUSTÁN.
Not that: for those great qualities apply only to God.
TURK.
In her praise you were both too succinct and fell short, for which, without appeal, I will impale you before the day’s over. You deserve a greater punishment, traitor Rustán, for keeping such a great treasure hidden from me for three days. For three days you have stopped the course of my fortune; for three days I’ve been tormented and uncertain; for three days you have cheated me of the greatest good on earth and under the sun. By all means, you shall die today, this very day: for your fortune will end where mine begins.
SULTANA.
If this captive has found some grace before you, let Rustán and Mamí live.
TURK.
Let Rustán die and Mamí live. Yet cursed be the tongue that spoke such a thing; you demand, I do not grant. I shall make up this lack by swearing an oath to you, by all my strength, not to waver one bit from your command. Not only shall Rustán live; if you so desire, you shall free the captives in the dungeons; for my will is as subject to yours as darkness is to the light of day.
SULTANA.
I’m not worthy of such a boon, my lord.
TURK.
Love makes you one with majesty. I see all of my kingdoms, which are nearly infinite, delivered to your jurisdiction; now my great dominions, which have made me a great lord, are yours more than mine by justice and by right. Do not wonder, “I am this; I was that,” for, since you control me, it’s fitting you should control the world. I don’t care if you’re a Muslim or a Christian; this beauty is my wife, and henceforth the Great Sultana.
SULTANA.
I am a Christian, so much so that I will not change my faith for a million promises, nor the threat of death. And consider the imprudence of a case so rare that your subjects will perforce judge it as folly. Where, my lord, has anyone seen two in a bed, one who holds Mohammed in his heart, and the other Christ? Your desires do not measure up to your supreme valor, for Love cannot bring together two people divided by their faiths. Stick to your nobility, your rites, and your sect, for it’s not right for them to mingle with my faith and my baseness.
TURK.
I enter this debate as Love allows; I am your circumference, and you, my lady, are my center; things between us will be equal, and will never reach a point of inequality. Majesty and Love never go well together—they are only compared so as to praise the greater one. This leads to what you shall see: humbling myself at your feet, I raise you to my head.20 We are equal now.
Arise, my lord, arise, for such humility amazes me.
MAMÍ.
He has surrendered; he is defeated.
SULTANA.
I ask a favor of you, and you must grant it to me.
TURK.
I obey and do not dispute whatever you might want. Set free, condemn, ransom, absolve, strip away, grant favors, for you can do this and more, my lady. Love expands your empire. Ask of me whatever impossibilities desire offers you, for in the hope of being yours, I believe I shall make them possible. Don’t be content with little, my love; for, though I’m a sinner, I shall work miracles to please you.
SULTANA.
I only ask three days of you, Sultan, to think . . .
TURK.
Three days will kill me.
SULTANA.
. . . about certain doubts of mine, which have made me hesitant, and, after those three days, you shall come, and you’ll see clearly what you have in my heart.
TURK.
I am content. Go in peace, battle of my thoughts, increase of my pleasures, solace of my anguish. You two, distressed and happy at once, shall have your wages increased sixfold. Go, Rustán; tell the news of my longed-for wedding to all those captive women.
MAMÍ.
You bring them great news!
TURK.
And let them henceforth serve—tell them this as well—and worship my beautiful Catalina as something divine.
[Exit the TURK, MAMÍ, and RUSTÁN, and the SULTANA remains alone in the theater.]
SULTANA.
I turn to you, oh Lord, who raised Adam from his miserable first fall with your own life and blood. As he lost us, You redeem us. To You, blessed shepherd, who sought the one small lost sheep out of a hundred, and, finding it pursued by the wolf, threw it over your holy shoulders, to you I turn in my bitter affliction. You must aid me, Lord: for I am a lamb lost from your fold, and I fear that, sooner or later, if you do not come to my aid, this infernal serpent will catch me!
1. Cervantes here differentiates Arabs (alárabes) from North Africans (moros), though his characters sometimes conflate the two.
2. Garzón, the word used for the Sultan’s pageboys, often means “catamite” in early modern Spain, especially when referring to the Ottomans or North Africa, as in The Bagnios of Algiers.
3. The “Great Turk” of the play, Sultan Murad III (1546–1595), also called Amurath or Amurates, ruled from 1574 to 1595. He was the son of Selim II, who was vanquished at Lepanto by the Sacred Alliance in 1571, and Nur Banu, the illegitimate daughter of the Venetian Nicolò Venier.The historical Murad fell in love with the Corfiote Christian captive Safidje. See Mas.
4. Salah, or prayer, is performed five times daily and is one of the five pillars of Islam.
5. Xumá: Arabic, “Jumu’ah,” communal Friday Salah services held shortly after noon in a mosque.
6. Monfí: a Spanish word from the Arabic meaning “highwayman” or “bandit,” especially a Moorish one.
7. The name Clara implies brightness, purity, and clarity.
8. We have been unable to find information on this location.
9. In several texts, such as Don Quixote and El amante liberal (The Generous Lover), Cervantes discusses the lingua franca of captivity—a mix of tongues from the Mediterranean, including Portuguese, Spanish, Italian, and others. See Haedo, chapter 29, for a description.
10. As with Doña Costanza in The Bagnios of Algiers, Catalina’s nobility is important in the play. Cervantes is careful to preserve class distinctions in both Spanish and Ottoman societies.
11. A famed renegade corsair of Albanian origin: a common reference of the period, he also figures in The Bagnios of Algiers (see Act I, note 8).
12. Invoking St. Roch—commonly against plague—was a frequent euphemistic curse in early modern Spanish.
13. Madrigal invents the insulting adjective barretina—“hatted”—based on the cap early modern Jews wore. Boronía stew, like the mojí casserole in The Bagnios of Algiers, was prepared on Friday to be consumed on the Sabbath the next day (Martínez López 128). Boronía contained eggplant, tomatoes, squash, and pepper (Cervantes 1998, 15:37).
14. Covarrubias defines algaraza (“war cries” in our translation) as the shouting that Moors utter when ambushing Christians or other enemies (85).
15. Madrigal refers to Rachel’s lamentations for her absent children in Jeremiah 31:15.
16. Madrigal’s exaggerated rhetoric in this speech plays on the phrase once mil, meaning both the number 11,000 and, in thieves’ argot, a coat of mail. It may also allude to the legend of the eleven thousand virgin martyrs supposedly buried with St. Ursula in Cologne.
17. Annunziata: the Chiesa della Santissima Annunziata in Naples. Freed captives would often place chains, oars, and other remnants of their captivity in churches to give thanks.
18. Ambassadors of the shah Abbas I of Persia (1571–1629) included Robert Sherley, brother to Anthony Sherley, an Englishman who reformed the shah’s army. Neither Spain nor England formed an alliance with the Persians, who wanted to join forces to defeat the Ottomans. For fuller discussion, see Chew, chapter 6. In 1599, the shah’s ambassadors came to Spain and visited Valladolid, Madrid, Segovia, Toledo, and elsewhere.
19. The blind god: Cupid, or Eros.
20. Raising or placing something on one’s head was a sign of respect and often used rhetorically, as here. The Spanish custom is of Muslim origin. The phrase occurs often in early modern Spanish usage, as in the famous scrutiny of Don Quixote’s library (part 1, ch. 6) and in Calderón’s La cisma de Inglaterra (The Schism in England), in which a confused Henry VIII mistakes letters from Luther and Pope Leo X and puts the former on his head in an ill-fated mixup.