"PREFACE.\n\n\nCid Campeador is the name given in histories, traditions and songs to\nthe most celebrated of Spain's national heroes.\n\nHis real name was Rodrigo or Ruy Diaz (i.e. \"son of Diego\"), a\nCastilian noble by birth. He was born at Burgos about the year 1040.\n\nThere is so much of the mythical in the history of this personage that\nhypercritical writers, such as Masdeu, have doubted his existence; but\nrecent researches have succeeded in separating the historical from the\nromantic.\n\nUnder Sancho II, son of Ferdinand, he served as commander of the royal\ntroops. In a war between the two brothers, Sancho II. and Alfonso VI. of\nLeon, due to some dishonorable stratagem on the part of Rodrigo, Sancho\nwas victorious and his brother was forced to seek refuge with the\nMoorish King of Toledo.\n\nIn 1072 Sancho was assassinated at the siege of Zamora, and as he left\nno heir the Castilians had to acknowledge Alfonso as King. Although\nAlfonso never forgave the Cid for having, as leader of the Castilians,\ncompelled him to swear that he (the Cid) had no hand in the murder of\nhis brother Sancho, as a conciliatory measure, he gave his cousin\nXimena, daughter of the Count of Oviedo, to the Cid in marriage, but\nafterwards, in 1081, when he found himself firmly seated on the throne,\nyielding to his own feelings of resentment and incited by the Leonese\nnobles, he banished him from the kingdom.\n\nAt the head of a large body of followers, the Cid joined the Moorish\nKing of Saragossa, in whose service he fought against both Moslems and\nChristians. It was probably during this exile that he was first called\nthe Cid, an Arabic title, which means the _lord_. He was very\nsuccessful in all his battles.\n\nIn conjunction with Mostain, grandson of Moctadir, he invaded Valencia\nin 1088, but afterwards carried on operations alone, and finally, after\na long siege, made himself master of the city in June, 1094. He retained\npossession of Valencia for five years and reigned like an independent\nsovereign over one of the richest territories in the Peninsula, but died\nsuddenly in 1099 of anger and grief on hearing that his relative, Alvar\nFañez, had been vanquished and the army which he had sent to his\nassistance had been defeated.\n\nAfter the Cid's death his wife held Valencia till 1102, when she was\nobliged to yield to the Almoravides and fly to Castile, where she died\nin 1104. Her remains were placed by those of her lord in the monastery\nof San Pedro de Cardeña.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CID.\n\n\n\n\nACT THE FIRST.\n\n\nScene I.--CHIMÈNE and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Chimène._ Elvira, have you given me a really true report? Do you\nconceal nothing that my father has said?\n\n_Elvira._ All my feelings within me are still delighted with it. He\nesteems Rodrigo as much as you love him; and if I do not misread his\nmind, he will command you to respond to his passion.\n\n_Chimène._ Tell me then, I beseech you, a second time, what makes you\nbelieve that he approves of my choice; tell me anew what hope I ought to\nentertain from it. A discourse so charming cannot be too often heard;\nyou cannot too forcibly promise to the fervor of our love the sweet\nliberty of manifesting itself to the light of day. What answer has he\ngiven regarding the secret suit which Don Sancho and Don Rodrigo are\npaying to you? Have you not too clearly shown the disparity between the\ntwo lovers which inclines me to the one side?\n\n_Elvira._ No; I have depicted your heart as filled with an\nindifference which elates not either of them nor destroys hope, and,\nwithout regarding them with too stern or too gentle an aspect, awaits the\ncommands of a father to choose a spouse. This respect has delighted\nhim--his lips and his countenance gave me at once a worthy testimony of\nit; and, since I must again tell you the tale, this is what he hastened\nto say to me of them and of you: 'She is in the right. Both are worthy\nof her; both are sprung from a noble, valiant, and faithful lineage;\nyoung but yet who show by their mien [_lit._ cause to easily be read\nin their eyes] the brilliant valor of their brave ancestors. Don Rodrigo,\nabove all, has no feature in his face which is not the noble [_lit._\nhigh] representative of a man of courage [_lit._ heart], and descends\nfrom a house so prolific in warriors, that they enter into life [_lit._\ntake birth there] in the midst of laurels. The valor of his father, in\nhis time without an equal, as long as his strength endured, was\nconsidered a marvel; the furrows on his brow bear witness to [_lit._\nhave engraved his] exploits, and tell us still what he formerly was. I\npredict of the son what I have seen of the father, and my daughter, in\none word, may love him and please me.' He was going to the council, the\nhour for which approaching, cut short this discourse, which he had\nscarcely commenced; but from these few words, I believe that his mind\n[_lit._ thoughts] is not quite decided between your two lovers. The king\nis going to appoint an instructor for his son, and it is he for whom an\nhonor so great is designed. This choice is not doubtful, and his\nunexampled valor cannot tolerate that we should fear any competition. As\nhis high exploits render him without an equal, in a hope so justifiable\nhe will be without a rival; and since Don Rodrigo has persuaded his\nfather, when going out from the council, to propose the affair. I leave\nyou to judge whether he will seize this opportunity [_lit._ whether he\nwill take his time well], and whether all your desires will soon be\ngratified.\n\n_Chimène._ It seems, however, that my agitated soul refuses this joy,\nand finds itself overwhelmed by it. One moment gives to fate different\naspects, and in this great happiness I fear a great reverse.\n\n_Elvira._ You see this fear happily deceived.\n\n_Chimène._ Let us go, whatever it may be, to await the issue.\n\n\nScene II.--The INFANTA, LEONORA, and a PAGE.\n\n\n_Infanta (to Page_). Page, go, tell Chimène from me, that to-day she is\nrather long in coming to see me, and that my friendship complains of her\ntardiness. [_Exit Page._]\n\n_Leonora._ Dear lady, each day the same desire urges you, and at your\ninterview with her, I see you every day ask her how her love proceeds.\n\n_Infanta._ It is not without reason. I have almost compelled her to\nreceive the arrows with which her soul is wounded. She loves Rodrigo,\nand she holds him from my hand; and by means of me Don Rodrigo has\nconquered her disdain. Thus, having forged the chains of these lovers, I\nought to take an interest in seeing their troubles at an end.\n\n_Leonora._ Dear lady, however, amidst their good fortune you exhibit a\ngrief which proceeds to excess. Does this love, which fills them both\nwith gladness, produce in this noble heart [of yours] profound sadness?\nAnd does this great interest which you take in them render you unhappy,\nwhilst they are happy? But I proceed too far, and become indiscreet.\n\n_Infanta._ My sadness redoubles in keeping the secret. Listen, listen\nat length, how I have struggled; listen what assaults my constancy\n[_lit._ virtue or valor] yet braves. Love is a tyrant which spares no\none. This young cavalier, this lover which I give [her]--I love him.\n\n_Leonora._ You love him!\n\n_Infanta._ Place your hand upon my heart, and feel [_lit._ see] how it\nthrobs at the name of its conqueror! how it recognizes him!\n\n_Leonora._ Pardon me, dear lady, if I am wanting in respect in blaming\nthis passion; a noble princess to so far forget herself as to admit in\nher heart a simple [_or_, humble] cavalier! And what would the King\nsay?--what would Castile say? Do you still remember of whom you are the\ndaughter?\n\n_Infanta._ I remember it so well, that I would shed my blood rather than\ndegrade my rank. I might assuredly answer to thee, that, in noble souls,\nworth alone ought to arouse passions; and, if my love sought to excuse\nitself, a thousand famous examples might sanction it. But I will not\nfollow these--where my honor is concerned, the captivation of my\nfeelings does not abate my courage, and I say to myself always, that,\nbeing the daughter of a king, all other than a monarch is unworthy of\nme. When I saw that my heart could not protect itself, I myself gave\naway that which I did not dare to take; and I put, in place of my self,\nChimène in its fetters, and I kindled their passions [_lit._ fires] in\norder to extinguish my own. Be then no longer surprised if my troubled\nsoul with impatience awaits their bridal; thou seest that my happiness\n[_lit._ repose] this day depends upon it. If love lives by hope, it\nperishes with it; it is a fire which becomes extinguished for want of\nfuel; and, in spite of the severity of my sad lot, if Chimène ever has\nRodrigo for a husband, my hope is dead and my spirit, is healed.\nMeanwhile, I endure an incredible torture; even up to this bridal.\nRodrigo is dear to me; I strive to lose him, and I lose him with regret,\nand hence my secret anxiety derives its origin. I see with sorrow that\nlove compels me to utter sighs for that [object] which [as a princess] I\nmust disdain. I feel my spirit divided into two portions; if my courage\nis high, my heart is inflamed [with love]. This bridal is fatal to me, I\nfear it, and [yet] I desire it; I dare to hope from it only an\nincomplete joy; my honor and my love have for me such attractions, that\nI [shall] die whether it be accomplished, or whether it be not\naccomplished.\n\n_Leonora._ Dear lady, after that I have nothing more to say, except\nthat, with you, I sigh for your misfortunes; I blamed you a short time\nsince, now I pity you. But since in a misfortune [i.e. an ill-timed\nlove] so sweet and so painful, your noble spirit [_lit._ virtue]\ncontends against both its charm and its strength, and repulses its\nassault and regrets its allurements, it will restore calmness to your\nagitated feelings. Hope then every [good result] from it, and from the\nassistance of time; hope everything from heaven; it is too just [_lit._\nit has too much justice] to leave virtue in such a long continued\ntorture.\n\n_Infanta._ My sweetest hope is to lose hope.\n\n(_The Page re-enters._)\n\n_Page._ By your commands, Chimène comes to see you.\n\n_Infanta_ (to _Leonora_). Go and converse with her in that gallery\n[yonder].\n\n_Leonora._ Do you wish to continue in dreamland?\n\n_Infanta._ No, I wish, only, in spite of my grief, to compose myself\n[_lit._ to put my features a little more at leisure]. I follow you.\n\n[_Leonora goes out along with the Page._]\n\n\nScene III.--The INFANTA (alone).\n\n\nJust heaven, from which I await my relief, put, at last, some limit to\nthe misfortune which is overcoming [_lit._ possesses] me; secure my\nrepose, secure my honor. In the happiness of others I seek my own. This\nbridal is equally important to three [parties]; render its completion\nmore prompt, or my soul more enduring. To unite these two lovers with a\nmarriage-tie is to break all my chains and to end all my sorrows. But I\ntarry a little too long; let us go to meet Chimène, and, by\nconversation, to relieve our grief.\n\n\nScene IV.--COUNT DE GORMAS and DON DIEGO (meeting).\n\n\n_Count._ At last you have gained it [_or_, prevailed], and the favor of\na King raises you to a rank which was due only to myself; he makes you\nGovernor of the Prince of Castile.\n\n_Don Diego._ This mark of distinction with which he distinguishes\n[_lit._ which he puts into] my family shows to all that he is just, and\ncauses it to be sufficiently understood, that he knows how to recompense\nbygone services.\n\n_Count._ However great kings may be, they are only men [_lit._ they are\nthat which we are]; they can make mistakes like other men, and this\nchoice serves as a proof to all courtiers that they know how to [_or_,\ncan] badly recompense present services.\n\n_Don Diego._ Let us speak no more of a choice at which your mind\nbecomes exasperated. Favor may have been able to do as much as merit;\nbut we owe this respect to absolute power, to question nothing when a\nking has wished it. To the honor which he has done me add another--let\nus join by a sacred tie my house to yours. You have an only daughter,\nand I have an only son; their marriage may render us for ever more than\nfriends. Grant us this favor, and accept, him as a son-in-law.\n\n_Count._ To higher alliances this precious son ought [_or_, is likely]\nto aspire; and the new splendor of your dignity ought to inflate his\nheart with another [higher] vanity. Exercise that [dignity], sir, and\ninstruct the prince. Show him how it is necessary to rule a province: to\nmake the people tremble everywhere under his law; to fill the good with\nlove, and the wicked with terror. Add to these virtues those of a\ncommander: show him how it is necessary to inure himself to fatigue; in\nthe profession of a warrior [_lit._ of Mars] to render himself without\nan equal; to pass entire days and nights on horseback; to sleep\nall-armed: to storm a rampart, and to owe to himself alone the winning\nof a battle. Instruct him by example, and render him perfect, bringing\nyour lessons to his notice by carrying them into effect.\n\n_Don Diego._ To instruct himself by example, in spite of your jealous\nfeelings, he shall read only the history of my life. There, in a long\nsuccession of glorious deeds, he shall see how nations ought to be\nsubdued; to attack a fortress, to marshal an army, and on great exploits\nto build his renown.\n\n_Count._ Living examples have a greater [_lit._ another] power. A\nprince, in a book, learns his duty but badly [_or_, imperfectly]; and\nwhat, after all, has this great number of years done which one of my\ndays cannot equal? If you have been valiant, I am so to-day, and this\narm is the strongest support of the kingdom. Granada and Arragon tremble\nwhen this sword flashes; my name serves as a rampart to all Castile;\nwithout me you would soon pass under other laws, and you would soon have\nyour enemies as [_lit._ for] kings. Each day, each moment, to increase\nmy glory, adds laurels to laurels, victory to victory. The prince, by my\nside, would make the trial of his courage in the wars under the shadow\nof my arm; he would learn to conquer by seeing me do so; and, to prove\nspeedily worthy of his high character, he would see----\n\n_Don Diego._ I know it; you serve the king well. I have seen you fight\nand command under me, when [old] age has caused its freezing currents to\nflow within my nerves [i.e. \"when the frosts of old age had numbed my\nnerves\"--_Jules Bue_], your unexampled [_lit._ rare] valor has worthily\n[_lit._ well] supplied my place; in fine, to spare unnecessary words,\nyou are to-day what I used to be. You see, nevertheless, that in this\nrivalry a monarch places some distinction between us.\n\n_Count._ That prize which I deserved you have carried off.\n\n_Don Diego._ He who has gained that [advantage] over you has deserved it\nbest.\n\n_Count._ He who can use it to the best advantage is the most worthy of\nit.\n\n_Don Diego._ To be refused that prize [_lit._ it] is not a good sign.\n\n_Count._ You have gained it by intrigue, being an old courtier.\n\n_Don Diego._ The brilliancy of my noble deeds was my only recommendation\n[_lit._ support].\n\n_Count._ Let us speak better of it [i.e. more plainly]: the king does\nhonor to your age.\n\n_Don Diego._ The king, when he does it [i.e. that honor], gives it\n[_lit._ measures it] to courage.\n\n_Count._ And for that reason this honor was due only to me [_lit._ my\narm].\n\n_Don Diego._ He who has not been able to obtain it did not deserve it.\n\n_Count._ Did not deserve it? I!\n\n_Don Diego._ You.\n\n_Count._ Thy impudence, rash old man, shall have its recompense. [_He\ngives him a slap on the face._] _Don Diego (drawing his sword [_lit._\nputting the sword in his hand_]). Finish [this outrage], and take my\nlife after such an insult, the first for which my race has ever had\ncause to blush [_lit._ has seen its brow grow red].\n\n_Count._ And what do you think you can do, weak us you are [_lit._ with\nsuch feebleness]?\n\n_Don Diego._ Oh, heaven! my exhausted strength fails me in this\nnecessity!\n\n_Count._ Thy sword is mine; but thou wouldst be too vain if this\ndiscreditable trophy had laden my hand [i.e. if I had carried away a\ntrophy so discreditable]. Farewell--adieu! Cause the prince to read, in\nspite of jealous feelings, for his instruction, the history of thy life.\nThis just punishment of impertinent language will serve as no small\nembellishment for it.\n\n\nScene V.--DON DIEGO.\n\n\nO rage! O despair! O inimical old age! Have I then lived so long only\nfor this disgrace? And have I grown grey in warlike toils, only to see\nin one day so many of my laurels wither? Does my arm [i.e. my valor],\nwhich all Spain admires and looks up to [_lit._ with respect]--[does] my\narm, which has so often saved this empire, and so often strengthened\nanew the throne of its king, now [_lit._ then] betray my cause, and do\nnothing for me? O cruel remembrance of my bygone glory! O work of a\nlifetime [_lit._ so many days] effaced in a day! new dignity fatal to my\nhappiness! lofty precipice from which mine honor falls! must I see the\ncount triumph over your splendor, and die without vengeance, or live in\nshame? Count, be now the instructor of my prince! This high rank becomes\n[_lit._ admits] no man without honor, and thy jealous pride, by this\nfoul [_lit._ remarkable] insult, in spite of the choice of the king, has\ncontrived [_lit._ has known how] to render me unworthy of it. And thou,\nglorious instrument of my exploits, but yet a useless ornament of an\nenfeebled body numbed by age [_lit._ all of ice], thou sword, hitherto\nto be feared, and which in this insult has served me for show, and not\nfor defence, go, abandon henceforth the most dishonored [_lit._ the\nlast] of his race; pass, to avenge me, into better hands!\n\n\nScene VI.--DON DIEGO and DON RODRIGO.\n\n\n_Don Diego._ Rodrigo, hast thou courage [_lit._ a heart]?\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Any other than my father would have found that out\ninstantly.\n\n_Don Diego._ Welcome wrath! worthy resentment, most pleasing to my\ngrief! I recognize my blood in this noble rage; my youth revives in this\nardor so prompt. Come, my son, come, my blood, come to retrieve my\nshame--come to avenge me!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Of what?\n\n_Don Diego._ Of an insult so cruel that it deals a deadly stroke\nagainst the honor of us both--of a blow! The insolent [man] would have\nlost his life for it, but my age deceived my noble ambition; and this\nsword, which my arm can no longer wield, I give up to thine, to avenge\nand punish. Go against this presumptuous man, and prove thy valor: it is\nonly in blood that one can wash away such an insult; die or slay.\nMoreover, not to deceive thee, I give thee to fight a formidable\nantagonist [_lit._ a man to be feared], I have seen him entirely covered\nwith blood and dust, carrying everywhere dismay through an entire army.\nI have seen by his valor a hundred squadrons broken; and, to tell thee\nstill something more--more than brave soldier, more than great leader,\nhe is----\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Pray, finish.\n\n_Don Diego._ The father of Chimène.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ The----\n\n_Don Diego._ Do not reply; I know thy love. But he who lives dishonored\nis unworthy of life; the dearer the offender the greater the offence. In\nshort, thou knowest the insult, and thou holdest [in thy grasp the means\nof] vengeance. I say no more to thee. Avenge me, avenge thyself! Show\nthyself a son worthy of a father such as I [am]. Overwhelmed by\nmisfortunes to which destiny reduces me, I go to deplore them. Go, run,\nfly, and avenge us!\n\n\nScene VII.--DON RODRIGO.\n\n\nPierced even to the depth [_or,_ bottom of the heart] by a blow\nunexpected as well as deadly, pitiable avenger of a just quarrel and\nunfortunate object of an unjust severity, I remain motionless, and my\ndejected soul yields to the blow which is slaying me. So near seeing my\nlove requited! O heaven, the strange pang [_or,_ difficulty]! In this\ninsult my father is the person aggrieved, and the aggressor is the\nfather of Chimène!\n\nWhat fierce conflicts [of feelings] I experience! My love is engaged\n[_lit._ interests itself] against my own honor. I must avenge a father\nand lose a mistress. The one stimulates my courage, the other restrains\nmy arm. Reduced to the sad choice of either betraying my love or of\nliving as a degraded [man], on both sides my situation is wretched\n[_lit._ evil is infinite]. O heaven, the strange pang [_or,_\ndifficulty]! Must I leave an insult unavenged? Must I punish the father\nof Chimène?\n\nFather, mistress, honor, love--noble and severe restraint--a bondage\nstill to be beloved [_lit._ beloved tyranny], all my pleasures are dead,\nor my glory is sullied. The one renders me unhappy; the other unworthy\nof life. Dear and cruel hope of a soul noble but still enamored, worthy\nenemy of my greatest happiness, thou sword which causest my painful\nanxiety, hast thou been given to me to avenge my honor? Hast thou been\ngiven to me to lose Chimène?\n\nIt is better to rush [_lit._ run] to death. I owe [a duty] to my\nmistress as well as to my father. I draw, in avenging myself, her hatred\nand her rage; I draw upon myself his [i.e. my father's] contempt by\nnot avenging myself. To my sweetest hope the one [alternative] renders\nme unfaithful, and the other [alternative] renders me unworthy of her.\nMy misfortune increases by seeking a remedy [_lit._ by wishing to cure\nit]. All [supposed reliefs] redoubles my woes. Come then, my soul [or,\nbeloved sword], and, since I must die, let us die, at least, without\noffending Chimène!\n\nTo die without obtaining satisfaction! To seek a death so fatal to my\nfame! To endure that Spain should impute to my memory [the fact] of\nhaving badly maintained the honor of my house! To respect a love of\nwhich my distracted soul already sees the certain loss. Let us no more\nlisten to this insidious thought, which serves only to pain me [_or,_\ncontributes only to my painful position]. Come, mine arm [_or,_ sword],\nlet us save honor, at least, since, after all, we must lose Chimène.\n\nYes, my spirit was deceived. I owe all to my father before my mistress.\n\nWhether I die in the combat or die of sadness, I shall yield up my blood\npure as I have received it. I already accuse myself of too much\nnegligence; let us haste to vengeance; and quite ashamed of having\nwavered so much, let us no more be in painful suspense, since to-day my\nfather has been insulted, even though the offender is the father of\nChimène.\n\n\n\n\nACT THE SECOND.\n\n\nScene I.--COUNT DE GORMAS and DON ARIAS.\n\n\n_Count._ I acknowledge, between ourselves, [that] my blood, a little too\nwarm, became too excited at an expression, and has carried the matter\ntoo far [_lit._ too high], but, since it is done, the deed is without\nremedy.\n\n_Don Arias._ To the wishes of the King let this proud spirit yield; he\ntakes this much to heart, and his exasperated feelings [_lit._ heart]\nwill act against you with full authority. And, indeed, you have no\navailable defence. The [high] rank of the person offended, the greatness\nof the offence, demand duties and submissions which require more than\nordinary reparation.\n\n_Count._ The King can, at his pleasure, dispose of my life.\n\n_Don Arias._ Your fault is followed by too much excitement. The King\nstill loves you; appease his wrath. He has said, \"I desire it!\"--will\nyou disobey?\n\n_Count._ Sir, to preserve all that esteem which I retain [_or,_ (other\nreading), to preserve my glory and my esteem] to disobey in a slight\ndegree is not so great a crime, and, however great that [offence] may\nbe, my immediate services are more than sufficient to cancel it.\n\n_Don Arias._ Although one perform glorious and important deeds, a King\nis never beholden to his subject. You flatter yourself much, and you\nought to know that he who serves his King well only does his duty. You\nwill ruin yourself, sir, by this confidence.\n\n_Count._ I shall not believe you until I have experience of it [_lit._\nuntil after experience of it].\n\n_Don Arias._ You ought to dread the power of a King.\n\n_Count._ One day alone does not destroy a man such as I. Let all his\ngreatness arm itself for my punishment; all the state shall perish, if I\nmust perish.\n\n_Don Arias._ What! do you fear so little sovereign power----?\n\n_Count._ [The sovereign power] of a sceptre which, without me, would\nfall from his hand. He himself has too much interest in my person, and\nmy head in falling would cause his crown to fall.\n\n_Don Arias._ Permit reason to bring back your senses. Take good advice.\n\n_Count_. The advice [_or,_ counsel] with regard to it is [already]\ntaken.\n\n_Don Arias._ What shall I say, after all? I am obliged to give him an\naccount [of this interview].\n\n_Count._ [Say] that I can never consent to my own dishonor.\n\n_Don Arias._ But think that kings will be absolute.\n\n_Count._ The die is cast, sir. Let us speak of the matter no more.\n\n_Don Arias._ Adieu, then, sir, since in vain I try to persuade you.\nNotwithstanding [_lit._ with] all your laurels, still dread the\nthunderbolt.\n\n_Count._ I shall await it without fear.\n\n_Don Arias._ But not without effect.\n\n_Count._ We shall see by that Don Diego satisfied. [_Exit Don Arias.]\n[Alone]_ He who fears not death fears not threats. I have a heart\nsuperior to the greatest misfortunes [_lit._ above the proudest\nmisfortunes]; and men may reduce me to live without happiness, but they\ncannot compel me to live without honor.\n\n\nScene II.--The COUNT and DON RODRIGO.\n\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Here, count, a word or two.\n\n_Count._ Speak.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Relieve me from a doubt. Dost thou know Don Diego well?\n\n_Count._ Yes.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Let us speak [in] low [tones]; listen. Dost thou know\nthat this old man was the very [essence of] virtue, valor, and honor in\nhis time? Dost thou know it?\n\n_Count._ Perhaps so.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ This fire which I carry in mine eyes, knowest thou that\nthis is his blood? Dost thou know it?\n\n_Count._ What matters it to me?\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Four paces hence I shall cause thee to know it.\n\n_Count._ Presumptuous youth!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Speak without exciting thyself. I am young, it is true;\nbut in souls nobly born valor does not depend upon age [_lit._ wait for\nthe number of years].\n\n_Count._ To measure thyself with me! Who [_or_, what] has rendered thee\nso presumptuous--thou, whom men have never seen with a sword [_lit._\narms] in thine hand?\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Men like me do not cause themselves to be known at a\nsecond trial, and they wish [to perform] masterly strokes for their\nfirst attempt.\n\n_Count._ Dost thou know well who I am?\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Yes! Any other man except myself, at the mere mention of\nthy name, might tremble with terror. The laurels with which I see thine\nhead so covered seem to bear written [upon them] the prediction of my\nfall. I attack, like a rash man, an arm always victorious; but by\ncourage I shall overcome you [_lit._ I shall have too much strength in\npossessing sufficient courage]. To him who avenges his father nothing is\nimpossible. Thine arm is unconquered, but not invincible.\n\n_Count._ This noble courage which appears in the language you hold has\nshown itself each day by your eyes; and, believing that I saw in you the\nhonor of Castile, my soul with pleasure was destining for you my\ndaughter. I know thy passion, and I am delighted to see that all its\nimpulses yield to thy duty; that they have not weakened this magnanimous\nardor; that thy proud manliness merits my esteem; and that, desiring as\na son-in-law an accomplished cavalier, I was not deceived in the choice\nwhich I had made. But I feel that for thee my compassion is touched. I\nadmire thy courage, and I pity thy youth. Seek not to make thy first\nattempt [_or_, maiden-stroke] fatal. Release my valor from an unequal\nconflict; too little honor for me would attend this victory. In\nconquering without danger we triumph without glory. Men would always\nbelieve that thou wert overpowered without an effort, and I should have\nonly regret for thy death.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Thy presumption is followed by a despicable [_lit._\nunworthy] pity! The man who dares to deprive me of honor, fears to\ndeprive me of life!\n\n_Count._ Withdraw from this place.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Let us proceed without further parley.\n\n_Count._ Art thou so tired of life?\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Hast thou such a dread of death?\n\n_Count._ Come, thou art doing thy duty, and the son becomes degenerate\nwho survives for one instant the honor of his father.\n\n\nScene III.--The INFANTA, CHIMÈNE and LEONORA.\n\n\n_Infanta._ Soothe, my Chimène, soothe thy grief; summon up thy firmness\nin this sudden misfortune. Thou shalt see a calm again after this\nshort-lived [_lit._ feeble] storm. Thy happiness is overcast [_lit._\ncovered] only by a slight cloud, and thou hast lost nothing in seeing it\n[i.e. thine happiness] delayed.\n\n_Chimène._ My heart, overwhelmed with sorrows, dares to hope for\nnothing; a storm so sudden, which agitates a calm at sea, conveys to us\na threat of an inevitable [_lit._ certain] shipwreck. I cannot doubt it:\nI am being shipwrecked [_lit._ I am perishing], even in harbor. I was\nloving, I was beloved, and our fathers were consenting [_lit._ in\nharmony], and I was recounting to you the delightful intelligence of\nthis at the fatal moment when this quarrel originated, the fatal recital\nof which, as soon as it has been given to you, has ruined the effect of\nsuch a dear [_lit._ sweet] expectation. Accursed ambition! hateful\nmadness! whose tyranny the most generous souls are suffering. O [sense\nof] honor!-merciless to my dearest desires, how many tears and sighs art\nthou going to cost me?\n\n_Infanta._ Thou hast, in their quarrel, no reason to be alarmed; one\nmoment has created it, one moment will extinguish it. It has made too\nmuch noise not to be settled amicably, since already the king wishes to\nreconcile them; and thou knowest that my zeal [_lit._ soul], keenly\nalive to thy sorrows, will do its utmost [_lit._ impossibilities] to dry\nup their source.\n\n_Chimène._ Reconciliations are not effected in such a feud [_or_, in\nthis manner]; such deadly insults are not [easily] repaired; in vain one\nuses [_lit._ causes to act] force or prudence. If the evil be cured, it\nis [cured] only in appearance; the hatred which hearts preserve within\nfeeds fires hidden, but so much the more ardent.\n\n_Infanta._ The sacred tie which will unite Don Rodrigo and Chimène will\ndispel the hatred of their hostile sires, and we shall soon see the\nstronger [feeling], love, by a happy bridal, extinguish this discord.\n\n_Chimène._ I desire it may be so, more than I expect it. Don Diego is\ntoo proud, and I know my father. I feel tears flow, which I wish to\nrestrain; the past afflicts me, and I fear the future.\n\n_Infanta._ What dost thou fear? Is it the impotent weakness of an old\nman?\n\n_Chimène._ Rodrigo has courage.\n\n_Infanta._ He is too young.\n\n_Chimène._ Courageous men become so [i.e. courageous] at once.\n\n_Infanta._ You ought not, however, to dread him much. He is too much\nenamored to wish to displease you, and two words from thy lips would\narrest his rage.\n\n_Chimène._ If he does not obey me, what a consummation of my sorrow!\nAnd, if he can obey me, what will men say of him? being of such noble\nbirth, to endure such an insult! Whether he yields to, or resists the\npassion which binds him to me, my mind can not be otherwise than either\nashamed of his too great deference, or shocked at a just refusal.\n\n_Infanta._ Chimène has a proud soul, and, though deeply interested, she\ncannot endure one base [_lit._  low] thought. But, if up to the day of\nreconciliation I make this model lover my prisoner, and I thus prevent\nthe effect of his courage, will thine enamored soul take no umbrage at\nit?\n\n_Chimène._ Ah! dear lady, in that case I have no more anxiety.\n\n\nScene IV.--The INFANTA, CHIMÈNE, LEONORA, and a PAGE.\n\n\n_Infanta._ Page, seek Rodrigo, and bring him hither.\n\n_Page._ The Count de Gormas and he----\n\n_Chimène._ Good heavens! I tremble!\n\n_Infanta._ Speak.\n\n_Page._ From this palace have gone out together.\n\n_Chimène._ Alone?\n\n_Page._ Alone, and they seemed in low tones to be wrangling with each\nother.\n\n_Chimène._ Without doubt they are fighting; there is no further need of\nspeaking. Madame, forgive my haste [in thus departing]. [_Exeunt Chimène\nand Page._]\n\n\nScene V.--The INFANTA and LEONORA.\n\n\n_Infanta._ Alas! what uneasiness I feel in my mind! I weep for her\nsorrows, [yet still] her lover enthralls me; my calmness forsakes me,\nand my passion revives. That which is going to separate Rodrigo from\nChimène rekindles at once my hope and my pain; and their separation,\nwhich I see with regret, infuses a secret pleasure in mine enamored\nsoul.\n\n_Leonora._ This noble pride which reigns in your soul, does it so soon\nsurrender to this unworthy passion?\n\n_Infanta._ Call it not unworthy, since, seated in my heart, proud and\ntriumphant, it asserts its sway [_lit._ law] over me. Treat it with\nrespect, since it is so dear to me. My pride struggles against it, but,\nin spite of myself--I hope; and my heart, imperfectly shielded against\nsuch a vain expectation, flies after a lover whom Chimène has lost.\n\n_Leonora._ Do you thus let this noble resolution give way [_lit._ fall]?\nAnd does reason in your mind thus lose its influence?\n\n_Infanta._ Ah! with how little effect do we listen to reason when the\nheart is assailed by a poison so delicious, and when the sick man loves\nhis malady! We can hardly endure that any remedy should be applied to\nit.\n\n_Leonora._ Your hope beguiles you, your malady is pleasant to you; but,\nin fact, this Rodrigo is unworthy of you.\n\n_Infanta._ I know it only too well; but if my pride yields, learn how\nlove flatters a heart which it possesses. If Rodrigo once [_or_, only]\ncomes forth from the combat as a conqueror, if this great warrior falls\nbeneath his valor, I may consider him worthy of me, and I may love him\nwithout shame. What may he not do, if he can conquer the Count? I dare\nto imagine that, as the least of his exploits, entire kingdoms will fall\nbeneath his laws; and my fond love is already persuaded that I behold\nhim seated on the throne of Granada, the vanquished Moors trembling\nwhile paying him homage; Arragon receiving this new conqueror, Portugal\nsurrendering, and his victorious battles [_lit._ noble days] advancing\nhis proud destinies beyond the seas, laving his laurels with the blood\nof Africans! In fine, all that is told of the most distinguished\nwarriors I expect from Rodrigo after this victory, and I make my love\nfor him the theme of my glory.\n\n_Leonora._ But, madam, see how far you carry his exploits [_lit._ arm]\nin consequence of a combat which, perhaps, has no reality!\n\n_Infanta._ Rodrigo has been insulted; the Count has committed the\noutrage; they have gone out together. Is there need of more?\n\n_Leonora._ Ah, well! they will fight, since you will have it so; but\nwill Rodrigo go so far as you are going?\n\n_Infanta._ Bear with me [_lit._ what do you mean]? I am mad, and my mind\nwanders; thou seest by that what evils this love prepares for me. Come\ninto my private apartment to console my anxieties, and do not desert me\nin the trouble I am in [at present].\n\n\nScene VI.--DON FERNANDO (the King), DON ARIAS, DON SANCHO, and DON\nALONZO.\n\n\n_Don Fernando._ The Count is, then, so presumptuous and so little\naccessible to reason? Does he still dare to believe his offence\npardonable?\n\n_Don Arias._ Sire, in your name I have long conversed with him. I have\ndone my utmost, and I have obtained nothing.\n\n_Don Fernando._ Just heavens! Thus, then, a rash subject has so little\nrespect and anxiety to please me! He insults Don Diego, and despises his\nKing! He gives laws to me in the midst of my court! Brave warrior\nthough he be, great general though he be, I am well able [_lit._ I shall\nknow well how] to tame such a haughty spirit! Were he incarnate valor\n[_lit._ valor itself], and the god of combats, he shall see what it is\nnot to obey! Whatever punishment such insolence may have deserved, I\nwished at first to treat it [_or,_ him] without violence; but, since he\nabuses my leniency, go instantly [_lit._ this very day], and, whether he\nresists or not, secure his person. [_Exit Don Alonzo._]\n\n_Don Sancho._ Perhaps a little time will render him less rebellious;\nthey came upon him still boiling with rage, on account of his quarrel.\nSire, in the heat of a first impulse, so noble a heart yields with\ndifficulty. He sees that he has done wrong, but a soul so lofty is not\nso soon induced to acknowledge its fault.\n\n_Don Fernando._ Don Sancho, be silent; and be warned that he who takes\nhis part renders himself criminal.\n\n_Don Sancho._ I obey, and am silent; but in pity, sire, [permit] two\nwords in his defence.\n\n_Don Fernando._ And what can you say?\n\n_Don Sancho._ That a soul accustomed to noble actions cannot lower\nitself to apologies. It does not imagine any which can be expressed\nwithout _shame;_ and it is that word alone that the Count resists. He\nfinds in his duty a little too much severity, and he would obey you if\nhe had less heart. Command that his arm, trained in war's dangers,\nrepair this injury at the point of the sword: he will give satisfaction,\nsire; and, come what may, until he has been made aware of your decision,\nhere am I to answer for him.\n\n_Don Fernando._ You fail [_lit._ you are losing] in respect; but I\npardon youth, and I excuse enthusiasm in a young, courageous heart. A\nking, whose prudence has better objects in view [than such quarrels],\nis more sparing of the blood of his subjects. I watch over mine; my\n[watchful] care protects them, as the head takes care of the limbs which\nserve it. Thus your reasoning is not reasoning for me. You speak as a\nsoldier--I must act as a king; and whatever others may wish to say, or\nhe may presume to think, the Count will not part with [_lit._ cannot\nlose] his glory by obeying me. Besides, the insult affects myself: he\nhas dishonored him whom I have made the instructor of my son. To impugn\nmy choice is to challenge me, and to make an attempt upon the supreme\npower. Let us speak of it no more. And now, ten vessels of our old\nenemies have been seen to hoist their flags; near the mouth of the river\nthey have dared to appear.\n\n_Don Arias._ The Moors have by force [of arms] learned to know you, and,\nso often vanquished, they have lost heart to risk their lives [_lit._\nthemselves] any more against so great a conqueror.\n\n_Don Fernando._ They will never, without a certain amount of jealousy,\nbehold my sceptre, in spite of them, ruling over Andalusia; and this\ncountry, so beautiful, which they too long enjoyed, is always regarded\nby them with an envious eye. This is the sole reason which has caused\nus, for the last ten years, to place the Castilian throne in Seville, in\norder to watch them more closely, and, by more prompt action,\nimmediately to overthrow whatever [design] they might undertake.\n\n_Don Arias._ They know, at the cost of their noblest leaders [_lit._\nmost worthy heads], how much your presence secures your conquests; you\nhave nothing to fear.\n\n_Don Fernando._ And nothing to neglect--too much confidence brings on\ndanger; and you are not ignorant that, with very little difficulty, the\nrising tide brings them hither. However, I should be wrong to cause a\npanic in the hearts [of the citizens], the news being uncertain. The\ndismay which this useless alarm might produce in the night, which is\napproaching, might agitate the town too much. Cause the guards to be\ndoubled on the walls and at the fort; for this evening that is\nsufficient.\n\n\nScene VII.--DON FERNANDO, DON ALONZO, DON SANCHO, and DON ARIAS.\n\n\n_Don Alonzo._ Sire, the Count is dead. Don Diego, by his son, has\navenged his wrong.\n\n_Don Fernando._ As soon as I knew of the insult I foresaw the vengeance,\nand from that moment I wished to avert this misfortune.\n\n_Don Alonzo._ Chimène approaches to lay her grief at your feet [_lit._\nbrings to your knees her grief]; she comes all in tears to sue for\njustice from you.\n\n_Don Fernando._ Much though my soul compassionates her sorrows, what the\nCount has done seems to have deserved this just punishment of his\nrashness. Yet, however just his penalty may be, I cannot lose such a\nwarrior without regret. After long service rendered to my state, after\nhis blood has been shed for me a thousand times, to whatever thoughts\nhis [stubborn] pride compels me, his loss enfeebles me, and his death\nafflicts me.\n\n\nScene VIII.--DON FERNANDO, DON DIEGO, CHIMÈNE, DON SANCHO, DON ARIAS,\nand DON ALONZO.\n\n\n_Chimène._ Sire, sire, justice!\n\n_Don Diego._ Ah, sire, hear us!\n\n_Chimène._ I cast myself at your feet!\n\n_Don Diego._ I embrace your knees!\n\n_Chimène._ I demand justice.\n\n_Don Diego._ Hear my defence.\n\n_Chimène._ Punish the presumption of an audacious youth: he has struck\ndown the support of your sceptre--he has slain my father!\n\n_Don Diego._ He has avenged his own.\n\n_Chimène._ To the blood of his subjects a king owes justice.\n\n_Don Diego._ For just vengeance there is no punishment.\n\n_Don Fernando._ Rise, both of you, and speak at leisure. Chimène, I\nsympathize with your sorrow; with an equal grief I feel my own soul\nafflicted. (_To Don Diego._) You shall speak afterwards; do not\ninterrupt her complaint.\n\n_Chimène._ Sire, my father is dead! My eyes have seen his blood gush\nforth from his noble breast--that blood which has so often secured your\nwalls--that blood which has so often won your battles--that blood which,\nthough all outpoured, still fumes with rage at seeing itself shed for\nany other than for you! Rodrigo, before your very palace, has just dyed\n[_lit._ covered] the earth with that [blood] which in the midst of\ndangers war did not dare to shed! Faint and pallid, I ran to the spot,\nand I found him bereft of life. Pardon my grief, sire, but my voice\nfails me at this terrible recital; my tears and my sighs will better\ntell you the rest!\n\n_Don Fernando._ Take courage, my daughter, and know that from to-day thy\nking will serve thee as a father instead of him.\n\n_Chimène._ Sire, my anguish is attended with too much [unavailing]\nhorror! I found him, I have already said, bereft of life; his breast was\npierced [_lit._ open], and his blood upon the [surrounding] dust\ndictated [_lit._ wrote] my duty; or rather his valor, reduced to this\ncondition, spoke to me through his wound, and urged me to claim redress;\nand to make itself heard by the most just of kings, by these sad lips,\nit borrowed my voice. Sire, do not permit that, under your sway, such\nlicense should reign before your [very] eyes; that the most valiant with\nimpunity should be exposed to the thrusts of rashness; that a\npresumptuous youth should triumph over their glory, should imbrue\nhimself with their blood, and scoff at their memory! If the valiant\nwarrior who has just been torn from you be not avenged, the ardor for\nserving you becomes extinguished. In fine, my father is dead, and I\ndemand vengeance more for your interest than for my consolation. You are\na loser in the death of a man of his position. Avenge it by another's,\nand [have] blood for blood! Sacrifice [the victim] not to me, but to\nyour crown, to your greatness, to yourself! Sacrifice, I say, sire, to\nthe good of the state, all those whom such a daring deed would inflate\nwith pride.\n\n_Don Fernando._ Don Diego, reply.\n\n_Don Diego._ How worthy of envy is he who, in losing [life's] vigor,\nloses life also! And how a long life brings to nobly minded men, at the\nclose of their career, an unhappy destiny! I, whose long labors have\ngained such great renown--I, whom hitherto everywhere victory has\nfollowed--I see myself to-day, in consequence of having lived too long,\nreceiving an insult, and living vanquished. That which never battle,\nsiege, or ambuscade could [do]--that which Arragon or Granada never\ncould [effect], nor all your enemies, nor all my jealous [rivals], the\nCount has done in your palace, almost before your eyes, [being] jealous\nof your choice, and proud of the advantage which the impotence of age\ngave him over me. Sire, thus these hairs, grown grey in harness [i.e.\ntoils of war]--this blood, so often shed to serve you--this arm,\nformerly the terror of a hostile army, would have sunk into the grave,\nburdened with disgrace, if I had not begotten a son worthy of me, worthy\nof his country, and worthy of his king! He has lent me his hand--he has\nslain the Count--he has restored my honor--he has washed away my shame!\nIf the displaying of courage and resentment, if the avenging of a blow\ndeserves chastisement, upon me alone should fall the fury of the storm.\nWhen the arm has failed, the head is punished for it. Whether men call\nthis a crime or not requires no discussion. Sire, I am the head, he is\nthe arm only. If Chimène complains that he has slain her father, he\nnever would have done that [deed] if I could have done it [myself].\nSacrifice, then, this head, which years will soon remove, and preserve\nfor yourself the arm which can serve you. At the cost of my blood\nsatisfy Chimène. I do not resist--I consent to my penalty, and, far from\nmurmuring at a rigorous decree, dying without dishonor, I shall die\nwithout regret.\n\n_Don Fernando._ The matter is of importance, and, calmly considered, it\ndeserves to be debated in full council. Don Sancho, re-conduct Chimène\nto her abode. Don Diego shall have my palace and his word of honor as a\nprison. Bring his son here to me. I will do you justice.\n\n_Chimène._ It is just, great king, that a murderer should die.\n\n_Don Fernando._ Take rest, my daughter, and calm thy sorrows.\n\n_Chimène._ To order me rest is to increase my misfortunes.\n\n\n\n\nACT THE THIRD.\n\n\nScene I.--DON RODRIGO and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Elvira._ Rodrigo, what hast them done? Whence comest thou, unhappy man?\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Here [i.e. to the house of Chimène], to follow out the\nsad course of my miserable destiny.\n\n_Elvira._ Whence obtainest thou this audacity, and this new pride, of\nappearing in places which thou hast filled with mourning? What! dost\nthou come even here to defy the shade of the Count? Hast thou not slain\nhim?\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ His existence was my shame; my honor required this deed\nfrom my [reluctant] hand.\n\n_Elvira._ But to seek thy asylum in the house of the dead! Has ever a\nmurderer made such his refuge?\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ And I come here only to yield myself to my judge. Look no\nmore on me with astonishment [_lit._ an eye amazed]; I seek death after\nhaving inflicted it. My love is my judge; my judge is my Chimène. I\ndeserve death for deserving her hatred, and I am come to receive, as a\nsupreme blessing, its decree from her lips, and its stroke from her\nhand.\n\n_Elvira._ Fly rather from her sight, fly from her impetuosity; conceal\nyour presence from her first excitement. Go! do not expose yourself to\nthe first impulses which the fiery indignation of her resentment may\ngive vent to.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ No, no. This beloved one, whom I [could] so displease,\ncannot have too wrathful a desire for my punishment; and I avoid a\nhundred deaths which are going to crush me if, by dying sooner, I can\nredouble it [i.e. that wrath].\n\n_Elvira._ Chimène is at the palace, bathed in tears, and will return but\ntoo well accompanied. Rodrigo, fly! for mercy's sake relieve me from my\nuneasiness! What might not people say if they saw you here? Do you wish\nthat some slanderer, to crown her misery, should accuse her of\ntolerating here the slayer of her father? She will return; she is\ncoming--I see her; at least, for the sake of _her_ honor, Rodrigo,\nconceal thyself!                           [_Rodrigo conceals himself._]\n\n\nScene II.--DON SANCHO, CHIMÈNE, and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Don Sancho._ Yes, lady, you require a victim [or revenge] steeped in\nblood [_lit._ for you there is need of bleeding victims]; your wrath is\njust and your tears legitimate, and I do not attempt, by dint of\nspeaking, either to soothe you or to console you. But, if I may be\ncapable of serving you, employ my sword to punish the guilty [one],\nemploy my love to revenge this death; under your commands my arm will be\n[only] too strong.\n\n_Chimène._ Unhappy that I am!\n\n_Don Sancho._ I implore you, accept my services.\n\n_Chimène._ I should offend the King, who has promised me justice.\n\n_Don Sancho._ You know that justice [_lit._ it] proceeds with such\nslowness, that very often crime escapes in consequence of its delay, its\nslow and doubtful course causes us to lose too many tears. Permit that a\ncavalier may avenge you by [force of] arms; that method is more certain\nand more prompt in punishing.\n\n_Chimène._ It is the last remedy; and if it is necessary to have\nrecourse to it, and your pity for my misfortunes still continues, you\nshall then be free to avenge my injury.\n\n_Don Sancho._ It is the sole happiness to which my soul aspires; and,\nbeing able to hope for it, I depart too well contented.\n\n\nScene III.--CHIMÈNE and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Chimène._ At last I see myself free, and I can, without constraint,\nshow thee the extent of my keen sorrows; I can give vent to my sad\nsighs; I can unbosom to thee my soul and all my griefs. My father is\ndead, Elvira; and the first sword with which Rodrigo armed himself has\ncut his thread of life. Weep, weep, mine eyes, and dissolve yourselves\ninto tears! The one half of my life [i.e. Rodrigo] has laid the other\n[half, i.e. my father] in the grave, and compels me to revenge, after\nthis fatal blow, that which I have no more [i.e. my father] on that\nwhich still remains to me [i.e. Rodrigo].\n\n_Elvira._ Calm yourself, dear lady.\n\n_Chimène._ Ah! how unsuitably, in a misfortune so great, thou speakest\nof calmness. By what means can my sorrow ever be appeased, if I cannot\nhate the hand which has caused it? And what ought I to hope for but a\nnever-ending anguish if I follow up a crime, still loving the criminal.\n\n_Elvira._ He deprives you of a father, and you still love him?\n\n_Chimène._ It is too little to say love, Elvira; I adore him! My passion\nopposes itself to my resentment; in mine enemy I find my lover, and I\nfeel that in spite of all my rage Rodrigo is still contending against my\nsire in my heart. He attacks it, he besieges it; it yields, it defends\nitself; at one time strong, at one time weak, at another triumphant. But\nin this severe struggle between wrath and love, he rends my heart\nwithout shaking my resolution, and although my love may have power over\nme, I do not consult it [_or_, hesitate] to follow my duty. I speed on\n[_lit._ run] without halting [_or_, weighing the consequences] where my\nhonor compels me. Rodrigo is very dear to me; the interest I feel in him\ngrieves me; my heart takes his part, but, in spite of its struggles, I\nknow what I am [i.e. a daughter], and that my father is dead.\n\n_Elvira._ Do you think of pursuing [_or_, persecuting] him?\n\n_Chimène._ Ah! cruel thought! and cruel pursuit to which I see myself\ncompelled. I demand his head [_or_, life] and I dread to obtain it; my\ndeath will follow his, and [yet] I wish to punish him!\n\n_Elvira._ Abandon, abandon, dear lady, a design so tragic, and do not\nimpose on yourself such a tyrannical law.\n\n_Chimène._ What! my father being dead and almost in my arms--shall his\nblood cry for revenge and I not obtain it? My heart, shamefully led away\nby other spells, would believe that it owed him only ineffectual tears.\nAnd can I endure that an insidious love, beneath a dastardly apathy,\nshould extinguish my resolution [_lit._ beneath a cowardly silence\nextinguish my honor]?\n\n_Elvira._ Dear lady, believe me, you would be excusable in having less\nwrath against an object so beloved, against a lover so dear; you have\ndone enough, you have seen the King; do not urge on the result [of that\ninterview]. Do not persist in this morbid [_lit._ strange] humor.\n\n_Chimène._ My honor is at stake; I must avenge myself; and, however the\ndesires of love may beguile us, all excuse [for not doing one's duty] is\ndisgraceful to [i.e. in the estimation of] noble-minded souls.\n\n_Elvira._ But you love Rodrigo--he cannot offend you.\n\n_Chimène._ I confess it.\n\n_Elvira._ After all, what then do you intend to do?\n\n_Chimène._ To preserve my honor and to end my sorrow; to pursue him, to\ndestroy him, and to die after him.\n\n\nScene IV.--DON RODRIGO, CHIMÈNE, and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Well then, without giving you the trouble of pursuing me,\nsecure for yourself the honor of preventing me from living.\n\n_Chimène._ Elvira, where are we, and what do I see? Rodrigo in my house!\nRodrigo before me!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Spare not my blood; enjoy [_lit._ taste], without\nresistance, the pleasure of my destruction and of your vengeance.\n\n_Chimène._ Alas!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Listen to me.\n\n_Chimène._ I am dying.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ One moment.\n\n_Chimène._ Go, let me die!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Four words only; afterwards reply to me only with this\nsword!\n\n_Chimène._ What! still imbrued with the blood of my father!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ My Chimène.\n\n_Chimène._ Remove from my sight this hateful object, which brings as a\nreproach before mine eyes thy crime and thy existence.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Look on it rather to excite thy hatred, to increase thy\nwrath and to hasten my doom.\n\n_Chimène._ It is dyed with my [father's] blood!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Plunge it in mine, and cause it thus to lose the\ndeath-stain of thine own.\n\n_Chimène._ Ah! what cruelty, which all in one day slays the father by\nthe sword [itself], and the daughter by the sight of it! Remove this\nobject, I cannot endure it; thou wished me to listen to thee, and thou\ncausest me to die!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ I do what thou wishest, but without abandoning the desire\nof ending by thy hands my lamentable life; for, in fine, do not expect\n[even] from my affection a dastardly repentance of a justifiable [_lit._\ngood] action. The irreparable effect of a too hasty excitement\ndishonored my father and covered me with shame. Thou knowest how a blow\naffects a man of courage. I shared in the insult, I sought out its\nauthor, I saw him, I avenged my honor and my father; I would do it again\nif I had it to do. Not that, indeed, my passion did not long struggle\nfor thee against my father and myself; judge of its power--under such an\ninsult, I was able to deliberate whether I should take vengeance for it!\nCompelled to displease thee or to endure an affront, I thought that in\nits turn my arm was too prompt [to strike]; I accused myself of too much\nimpetuosity, and thy loveliness, without doubt, would have turned the\nscale [_or_, prevailed overall] had I not opposed to thy strongest\nattractions the [thought] that a man without honor would not merit thee;\nthat, in spite of this share which I had in thy affections, she who\nloved me noble would hate me shamed; that to listen to thy love, to obey\nits voice, would be to render myself unworthy of it and to condemn thy\nchoice. I tell thee still, and although I sigh at it, even to my last\nsigh I will assuredly repeat it, I have committed an offence against\nthee, and I was driven to [_or_, bound to commit] it to efface my shame\nand to merit thee; but discharged [from my duty] as regards honor, and\ndischarged [from duty] towards my father, it is now to thee that I come\nto give satisfaction--it is to offer to thee my blood that thou seest\nme in this place. I did my duty [_lit._ that which I ought to have done]\nthen, I still do it now. I know that a slain [_lit._ dead] father arms\nthee against my offence; I have not wished to rob thee of thy victim;\nsacrifice with courage to the blood he has lost he who constitutes his\nglory in having shed it.\n\n_Chimène._ Ah, Rodrigo, it is true, although thine enemy, I cannot blame\nthee for having shunned disgrace; and in whatever manner my griefs burst\nforth I do not accuse [thee], I [only] lament my misfortunes. I know\nwhat honor after such an insult demanded with ardor of a generous\ncourage; thou hast only done the duty of a man of honor, but also in\ndoing that [duty] thou hast taught me mine. Thy fatal valor has\ninstructed me by thy victory--it has avenged thy father and maintained\nthy glory. The same care concerns me, and I have to add to my infliction\n[_lit._ to afflict me] my fame to sustain and my father to avenge. Alas!\nthy fate [_or_, your share] in this drives me to despair! If any other\nmisfortune had taken from me my father, my soul would have found in the\nhappiness of seeing thee the only relief which it could have received,\nand in opposition to my grief I should have felt a fond delight [_lit._\ncharm or a magic soothing] when a hand so dear would have wiped away my\ntears. But I must lose thee after having lost him. This struggle over my\npassion is due to my honor, and this terrible duty, whose [imperious]\ncommand is slaying me, compels me to exert myself [_lit._ labor or work]\nfor thy destruction. For, in fine, do not expect from my affection any\nmorbid [_lit._ cowardly] feelings as to thy punishment. However strongly\nmy love may plead in thy favor, my steadfast courage must respond to\nthine. Even in offending me, thou hast proved thyself worthy of me; I\nmust, by thy death, prove myself worthy of thee.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Defer, then, no longer that which honor commands. It\ndemands my head [_or_, life], and I yield it to thee; make a sacrifice\nof it to this noble duty; the [death] stroke will be welcome [_lit._\nsweet], as well as the doom. To await, after my crime, a tardy justice,\nis to defer thine honor as well as my punishment. I should die too happy\nin dying by so delightful a [death] blow!\n\n_Chimène._ Go [i.e. no]; I am thy prosecutor, and not thy executioner.\nIf thou offerest me thine head, is it for me to take it; I ought to\nattack it, but thou oughtest to defend it. It is from another than thee\nthat I must obtain it, and it is my duty [_lit._ I ought] to pursue\nthee, but not to punish thee.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ However in my favor our love may plead, thy steadfast\ncourage ought to correspond to mine; and to borrow other arms to avenge\na father is, believe me, my Chimène, not the [method of] responding to\nit. My hand alone was fit [_lit._ has understood how] to avenge the\ninsult offered to _my_ father; thy hand alone ought to take vengeance\nfor thine.\n\n_Chimène._ O cruel! for what reason shouldst thou persevere on this\npoint? Thou hast avenged thyself without aid, and dost thou wish to give\nme thine [aid]? I shall follow thy example; and I have too much courage\nto endure that my glory shall be divided with thee. My father and mine\nhonor shall owe nothing to the dictates of thy love and of thy despair.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ O cruel resolution [_lit._ point of honor]! Alas!\nwhatever I may do, can I by no means obtain this concession [_or_,\nfavor]? In the name of a slain [_lit._ dead] father, or of our\nfriendship, punish me through revenge, or at least through compassion.\nThy unhappy lover will have far less pain in dying by thy hand than in\nliving with thy hatred.\n\n_Chimène._ Go; I do not hate thee.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Thou oughtest to do so.\n\n_Chimène._ I cannot.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Dost thou so little fear calumny, and so little [fear]\nfalse reports? When people shall know my crime, and that thy passion\n[for me] still continues, what will not envy and deception spread\nabroad? Compel them to silence, and, without debating more, save thy\nfair fame by causing me to die.\n\n_Chimène._ That [fair fame] shines far more gloriously [_lit._ better]\nby leaving thee life; and I wish that the voice of the blackest slander\nshould raise to heaven my honor, and lament my griefs, knowing that I\nworship thee, and that [still] I pursue thee [as a criminal]. Go, then;\npresent no more to my unbounded grief that which I [must] lose, although\nI love it [him]! In the shades of night carefully conceal thy departure;\nif they see thee going forth, my honor runs a risk. The only opportunity\nwhich slander can have is to know that I have tolerated thy presence\nhere. Give it no opportunity to assail my honor.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Let me die.\n\n_Chimène._ Nay, leave me.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ On what art thou resolved?\n\n_Chimène._ In spite of the glorious love-fires which impede [_lit._\ntrouble] my wrath, I will do my utmost to avenge my father; but, in\nspite of the sternness of such a cruel duty, my sole desire is to be\nable to accomplish nothing [against thee].\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ O wondrous love [_lit._ miracle of love]!\n\n_Chimène._ O accumulation of sorrows!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ What misfortunes and tears will our fathers cost us!\n\n_Chimène._ Rodrigo, who would have believed----?\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Chimène, who would have said----?\n\n_Chimène._ That our happiness was so near, and would so soon be ruined?\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ And that so near the haven, contrary to all appearances\n[_or_, expectation], a storm so sudden should shatter our hopes?\n\n_Chimène._ O deadly griefs!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ O vain regrets!\n\n_Chimène._ Go, then, again [I beseech thee]; I can listen to thee no\nmore.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Adieu! I go to drag along a lingering life, until it be\ntorn from me by thy pursuit.\n\n_Chimène._ If I obtain my purpose, I pledge to thee my faith to exist\nnot a moment after thee. Adieu! Go hence, and, above all, take good care\nthat you are not observed.                         [_Exit Don Rodrigo._]\n\n_Elvira._ Dear lady, whatever sorrows heaven sends us----\n\n_Chimène._ Trouble me no more; let me sigh. I seek for silence and the\nnight in order to weep.\n\n\nScene V.--DON DIEGO.\n\n\nNever do we experience [_lit._ taste] perfect joy. Our most fortunate\nsuccesses are mingled with sadness; always some cares, [even] in the\n[successful] events, mar the serenity of our satisfaction. In the midst\nof happiness my soul feels their pang: I float in joy, and I tremble\nwith fear. I have seen [lying] dead the enemy who had insulted me, yet I\nam unable to find [_lit._ see] the hand which has avenged me. I exert\nmyself in vain, and with a useless anxiety. Feeble [_lit._ broken down;\n_or_, shattered] though I am, I traverse all the city; this slight\ndegree of vigor, that my advanced years have left me, expends itself\nfruitlessly in seeking this conqueror. At every moment, at all places,\nin a night so dark, I think that I embrace him, and I embrace only a\nshadow; and my love, beguiled by this deceitful object, forms for itself\nsuspicions which redouble my fear. I do not discover any traces of his\nflight. I fear the dead Count's friends and retinue; their number\nterrifies me, and confounds my reason. Rodrigo lives no more, or\nbreathes in prison! Just heavens! do I still deceive myself with a\nshadow only [_lit._ an appearance], or do I see, at last, my only hope?\nIt is he; I doubt it no more. My prayers are heard, my fear is\ndispelled, and my trouble ended.\n\n\nScene VI.--DON DIEGO and DON RODRIGO.\n\n\n_Don Diego._ Rodrigo at last heaven permits that I should behold thee!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Alas!\n\n_Don Diego._ Mingle not sighs with my joy; let me take breath in order\nto praise thee. My valor has no reason to disown thee; thou hast well\nimitated it, and thy brilliant prowess causes the heroes of my race to\nlive again in thee! It is from them that thou descendest, it is from me\nthat thou art sprung. Thy first combat [_lit._ sword-stroke] equals all\nof mine, and thy youth, fired with a splendid enthusiasm, by this great\nproof equals [_or_, reaches to] my renown. Prop of mine age, and sum of\nmy happiness, touch these white hairs, to which thou restorest honor!\nCome, kiss this cheek, and recognize the place on which was branded the\ninsult which thy courage effaces!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ The honor of it belongs to you. I could not do less,\nbeing sprung from you, and trained under your careful instruction\n[_lit._ cares]. I consider myself too happy [at the result], and my soul\nis delighted that my first combat [_or_, maiden-stroke] pleases him to\nwhom I owe existence. But, amidst your gladness, be not jealous if, in\nmy turn, I dare to satisfy myself after you. Permit that in freedom my\ndespair may burst forth; enough and for too long your discourse has\nsoothed it. I do not repent having served you; but give me back the\nblessing which that [death] blow has deprived me of. My arms, in order\nto serve you, battling against my passion, by this [otherwise] glorious\ndeed have deprived me of my love. Say no more to me: for you I have lost\nall; what I owed you I have well repaid.\n\n_Don Diego._ Carry, carry still higher the effect [_lit._ fruit] of thy\nvictory. I have given thee life, and thou restorest to me my honor; and\nas much as honor is dearer to me than life, so much now I owe thee in\nreturn. But spurn this weakness from a noble heart; we have but one\nhonor--there are many mistresses. Love is but a pleasure; honor is a\nduty.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Ah! what do you say to me?\n\n_Don Diego._ That which you ought to know.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ My outraged honor takes vengeance on myself, and you dare\nto urge me to the shame of inconstancy! Disgrace is the same, and\nfollows equally the soldier without courage and the faithless lover. Do\nno wrong, then, to my fidelity; allow me [to be] brave without rendering\nmyself perfidious [perjured]. My bonds are too strong to be thus\nbroken--my faith still binds me, though I [may] hope no more; and, not\nbeing able to leave nor to win Chimène, the death which I seek is my\nmost welcome [_lit._ sweeter] penalty.\n\n_Don Diego._ It is not yet time to seek death; thy prince and thy\ncountry have need of thine arm. The fleet, as was feared, having entered\nthis great river, hopes to surprise the city and to ravage the country.\nThe Moors are going to make a descent, and the tide and the night may,\nwithin an hour, bring them noiselessly to our walls. The court is in\ndisorder, the people in dismay; we hear only cries, we see only tears.\nIn this public calamity, my good fortune has so willed it that I have\nfound [thronging] to my house five hundred of my friends, who, knowing\nthe insult offered to me, impelled by a similar zeal, came all to offer\nthemselves to avenge my quarrel. Thou hast anticipated them; but their\nvaliant hands will be more nobly steeped in the blood of Africans. Go,\nmarch at their head where honor calls thee; it is thou whom their noble\nband would have as a leader. Go, resist the advance of these ancient\nenemies; there, if thou wishest to die, find a glorious death. Seize the\nopportunity, since it is presented to thee; cause your King to owe his\nsafety to your loss; but rather return from that battle-field [_lit._\nfrom it] with the laurels on thy brow. Limit not thy glory to the\navenging of an insult; advance that glory still further; urge by thy\nvalor this monarch to pardon, and Chimène to peace. If thou lovest her,\nlearn that to return as a conqueror is the sole means of regaining her\nheart. But time is too precious to waste in words; I stop thee in thine\nattempted answer, and desire that thou fly [to the rescue]. Come, follow\nme; go to the combat, and show the King that what he loses in the Count\nhe regains in thee.\n\n\n\n\nACT THE FOURTH.\n\n\nScene I.--CHIMÈNE and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Chimène._ Is it not a false report? Do you know for certain, Elvira?\n\n_Elvira._ You could never believe how every one admires him, and extols\nto heaven, with one common voice, the glorious achievements of this\nyoung hero. The Moors appeared before him only to their shame; their\napproach was very rapid, their flight more rapid still. A three hours'\nbattle left to our warriors a complete victory, and two kings as\nprisoners. The valor of their leader overcame every obstacle [_lit._\nfound no obstacles].\n\n_Chimène._ And the hand of Rodrigo has wrought all these wonders!\n\n_Elvira._ Of his gallant deeds these two kings are the reward; by his\nhand they were conquered, and his hand captured them.\n\n_Chimène._ From whom couldst thou ascertain these strange tidings?\n\n_Elvira._ From the people, who everywhere sing his praises, [who] call\nhim the object and the author of their rejoicing, their guardian angel\nand their deliverer.\n\n_Chimène._ And the King--with what an aspect does he look upon such\nvalor?\n\n_Elvira._ Rodrigo dares not yet appear in his presence, but Don Diego,\ndelighted, presents to him in chains, in the name of this conqueror,\nthese crowned captives, and asks as a favor from this generous prince\nthat he condescend to look upon the hand which has saved the kingdom\n[_lit._ province].\n\n_Chimène._ But is he not wounded?\n\n_Elvira._ I have learned nothing of it. You change color! Recover your\nspirits.\n\n_Chimène._ Let me recover then also my enfeebled resentment; caring for\nhim, must I forget my own feelings [_lit._ myself]? They boast of him,\nthey praise him, and my heart consents to it; my honor is mute, my duty\nimpotent. Down [_lit._ silence], O [treacherous] love! let my resentment\nexert itself [_lit._ act]; although he has conquered two kings, he has\nslain my father! These mourning robes in which I read my misfortune are\nthe first-fruits which his valor has produced; and although others may\ntell of a heart so magnanimous, here all objects speak to me of his\ncrime. Ye who give strength to my feelings of resentment, veil, crape,\nrobes, dismal ornaments, funeral garb in which his first victory\nenshrouds me, do you sustain effectually my honor in opposition to my\npassion, and when my love shall gain too much power, remind my spirit of\nmy sad duty; attack, without fearing anything, a triumphant hand!\n\n_Elvira._ Calm this excitement; see--here comes the Infanta.\n\n\nScene II.--The INFANTA, CHIMÈNE, LEONORA, and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Infanta._ I do not come here [vainly] to console thy sorrows; I come\nrather to mingle my sighs with thy tears.\n\n_Chimène._ Far rather take part in the universal rejoicings, and taste\nthe happiness which heaven sends you, dear lady; no one but myself has a\nright to sigh. The danger from which Rodrigo has been able to rescue\nyou, and the public safety which his arms restore to you, to me alone\nto-day still permit tears; he has saved the city, he has served his\nKing, and his valiant arm is destructive only to myself.\n\n_Infanta._ My Chimène, it is true that he has wrought wonders.\n\n_Chimène._ Already this vexatious exclamation of joy [_lit._ noise] has\nreached [_lit._ struck] my ears, and I hear him everywhere proclaimed\naloud as brave a warrior as he is an unfortunate lover.\n\n_Infanta._ What annoyance can the approving shouts of the people cause\nthee? This youthful Mars whom they praise has hitherto been able to\nplease thee; he possessed thy heart; he lived under thy law; and to\npraise his valor is to honor thy choice.\n\n_Chimène._ Every one [else] can praise it with some justice; but for me\nhis praise is a new punishment. They aggravate my grief by raising him\nso high. I see what I lose, when I see what he is worth. Ah! cruel\ntortures to the mind of a lover! The more I understand his worth, the\nmore my passion increases; yet my duty is always the stronger [passion],\nand, in spite of my love, endeavors to accomplish his destruction\n[_lit._ to pursue his death].\n\n_Infanta._ Yesterday, this duty placed thee in high estimation; the\nstruggle which thou didst make appeared so magnanimous, so worthy of a\nnoble heart, that everyone at the court admired thy resolution and\npitied thy love. But wilt thou believe in the advice of a faithful\nfriendship?\n\n_Chimène._ Not to obey you would render me disloyal.\n\n_Infanta._ What was justifiable then is not so to-day. Rodrigo now is\nour sole support, the hope and the idol [_lit._ love] of a people that\nworships him! The prop of Castile and the terror of the Moor! The King\nhimself recognizes [_lit._ is in agreement with] this truth, that thy\nfather in him alone sees himself recalled to life: and if, in fine, thou\nwishest that I should explain myself briefly [_lit._ in two words],\nthou art seeking in his destruction the public ruin. What! to avenge a\nfather, is it ever lawful to surrender one's country into the hands of\nenemies? Against us is thy revenge lawful? And must we be punished who\nhad no share in the crime? After all, it is only that thou shouldest\nespouse the man whom a dead father compelled thee to accuse; I myself\nwould wish to relieve thee of that desire [_lit._ take the desire of\nthat from thee]; take from him thy love, but leave us his life.\n\n_Chimène._ Ah! it is not in me to have so much kindness; the duty which\nexcites me has no limit. Although my love pleads [_lit._ interests\nitself] for this conqueror, although a nation worships him, and a King\npraises him, although he be surrounded with the most valiant warriors, I\nshall endeavor to crush his laurels beneath my [funereal] cypress.\n\n_Infanta._ It is a noble feeling when, to avenge a father, our duty\nassails a head so dear; but it is duty of a still nobler order when ties\nof blood are sacrificed to the public [advantage]. No, believe me, it is\nenough to quench thy love; he will be too severely punished if he exists\nno more in thy affections. Let the welfare of thy country impose upon\nthee this law; and, besides, what dost thou think that the King will\ngrant thee?\n\n_Chimène._ He can refuse me, but I cannot keep silent.\n\n_Infanta._ Reflect well, my [dear] Chimène, on what thou wishest to do.\nAdieu; [when] alone thou cans't think over this at thy leisure. [_Exit\nthe Infanta._]\n\n_Chimène._ Since my father is slain [_lit._ after my dead father], I\nhave no [alternative] to choose.\n\n\nScene III.--DON FERNANDO (the King), DON DIEGO, DON ARIAS, DON\nRODRIGO, and DON SANCHO.\n\n\n_Don Fernando._ Worthy scion of a distinguished race, which has always\nbeen the glory and the support of Castile! Thou descendant of so many\nancestors signalized by valor, whom the first attempt of thine own\n[prowess] has so soon equalled; my ability to recompense thee is too\nlimited [_lit._ small], and I have less power than thou hast merit. The\ncountry delivered from such a fierce enemy, my sceptre firmly placed in\nmy hand by thine own [hand], and the Moors defeated before, amid these\nterrors, I could give orders for repulsing their arms; these are\nbrilliant services which leave not to thy King the means or the hope of\ndischarging his debt of gratitude [_lit._ acquitting himself] towards\nthee. But the two kings, thy captives, shall be thy reward. Both of them\nin my presence have named thee their Cid--since Cid, in their language,\nis equivalent to lord, I shall not envy thee this glorious title of\ndistinction; be thou, henceforth, the Cid; to that great name let\neverything yield; let it overwhelm with terror both Granada and Toledo,\nand let it indicate to all those who live under my laws both how\nvaluable thou art to me [_lit._ that which thou art worth to me], and\nthat [deep obligation] which I owe thee.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Let your majesty, sire, spare my modesty. On such an\nhumble service your majesty [_lit._ it, referring to majesty] sets too\nhigh a value, and compels me to blush [for shame] before so great a\nKing, at so little deserving the honor which I have received from him. I\nknow too well [the gifts] that I owe to the welfare of your empire, both\nthe blood which flows in my veins [_lit._ animates me] and the air which\nI breathe, and even though I should lose them in such a glorious cause\n[_lit._ for an object so worthy], I should only be doing the duty of a\nsubject.\n\n_Don Fernando._ All those whom that duty enlists in my service do not\ndischarge it with the same courage, and when [i.e. unless] valor\nattains a high degree, it never produces such rare successes; allow us\nthen to praise thee, and tell me more at length the true history of this\nvictory.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Sire, you are aware that in this urgent danger, which\ncreated in the city such a powerful alarm, a band of friends assembled\nat the house of my father prevailed on my spirit, still much agitated.\nBut, sire, pardon my rashness if I dared to employ it without your\nauthority; the danger was approaching; their [valiant] band was ready;\nby showing myself at the court I should have risked my life [_lit._\nhead], and, if I must lose it, it would have been far more delightful\nfor me to depart from life while fighting for you.\n\n_Don Fernando._ I pardon thy warmth in avenging the insult offered to\nthee, and the kingdom shielded [from danger] pleads [_lit._ speaks to\nme] in thy defence. Be assured that henceforth Chimène will speak in\nvain, and I shall listen to her no more except to comfort her; but\ncontinue.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Under me, then, this band advances, and bears in its\naspect a manly confidence. At setting out we were five hundred, but, by\na speedy reinforcement, we saw ourselves [augmented to] three thousand\non arriving at the port; so surely, on beholding us advance with such a\n[determined] aspect, did the most dismayed recover their courage. Of\nthat brave host [_lit._ of it], as soon as we had arrived, I conceal\ntwo-thirds in the holds of the ships which were found there; the rest,\nwhose numbers were increasing every hour, burning with impatience,\nremain around me; they lie down on the ground, and, without making any\nnoise, they pass a considerable portion of so auspicious [_lit._\nbeautiful] a night. By my command the guard does the same, and keeping\nthemselves, concealed aid my stratagem, and I boldly pretended to have\nreceived from you the order which they see me follow out, and which I\nissue to all. This dim light which falls from the stars, at last with\nthe tide causes us to see thirty vessels [_lit._ sails]; the wave\n[i.e. the water] swells beneath them, and, with a mutual effort, the\nMoors and the sea advance even to the port. We let them pass; all seems\nto them lulled in repose [_lit._ tranquil]. No soldiers at the port,\nnone on the walls of the city. Our deep silence deceiving their minds,\nthey no longer dare to doubt that they had taken us by surprise. They\nland without fear, they cast anchor, they disembark and rush forward to\ndeliver themselves into the hands which are awaiting them. Then we\narise, and all at the same time utter towards heaven countless ringing\ncheers [of defiance]. At these shouts our men from our ships answer [to\nthe signal]; they appear armed, the Moors are dismayed, terror seizes\nthose who had scarcely disembarked, before fighting they consider\nthemselves lost--they hastened to plunder and they meet with war. We\npress them hard on the water, we press them hard on the land, and we\ncause rivulets of their blood to run before any [of them] can resist or\nregain his position. But soon, in spite of us, their princes rally them,\ntheir courage revives, and their fears are forgotten. The disgrace of\ndying without having fought rallies their disordered ranks [_lit._ stops\ntheir disorder], and restores to them their valor. With firmly planted\nfeet they draw their scimitars against us, and cause a fearful\nintermingling of our blood with theirs; and the land, and the wave, and\nthe fleet, and the port are fields of carnage where death is\ntriumphant. Oh! how many noble deeds, how many brilliant achievements,\nwere performed unnoticed [_lit._ have remained without renown] in the\nmidst of the gloom, in which each [warrior], sole witness of the\nbrilliant strokes which he gave, could not discern to which side fortune\ninclined. I went in all directions to encourage our soldiers, to cause\nsome to advance, and to support others, to marshal those who were coming\nup, to urge them forward in their turn, and I could not ascertain the\nresult [of the conflict] until the break of day. But at last the bright\ndawn shows us our advantage. The Moor sees his loss and loses courage\nsuddenly, and, seeing a reinforcement which had come to assist us, the\nardor for conquest yields to the dread of death. They gain their ships,\nthey cut their cables, they utter even to heaven terrific cries, they\nmake their retreat in confusion and without reflecting whether their\nkings can escape with them. Their fright is too strong to admit of this\nduty. The incoming tide brought them here, the outgoing tide carries\nthem away. Meanwhile their kings, combating amongst us, and a few of\ntheir [warriors] severely wounded by our blows, still fight valiantly\nand sell their lives dearly. I myself in vain urge them to surrender;\nscimitar in hand, they listen not to my entreaties, but seeing all their\nsoldiers falling at their feet, and that henceforward alone they defend\nthemselves in vain, they ask for the commander; I entitle myself as\nsuch, and they surrender. I sent you them both at the same time, and the\ncombat ceased for want of combatants. It is in this manner that for your\nservice----\n\n\nScene IV.--DON FERNANDO, DON DIEGO, DON RODRIGO, DON ARIAS, DON ALONZO,\nand DON SANCHO.\n\n\n_Don Alonzo._ Sire, Chimène comes to demand justice from you.\n\n_Don Fernando._ Vexatious news and unwelcome duty! Go [Rodrigo]; I do\nnot wish her to see thee. Instead of thanks I must drive thee away; but,\nbefore departing, come, let thy King embrace thee!\n\n[_Exit Don Rodrigo._]\n\n_Don Diego._ Chimène pursues him, [yet] she wishes to save him.\n\n_Don Fernando._ They say that she loves him, and I am going to prove it.\nExhibit a more sorrowful countenance [_lit._ eye].\n\n\nScene V.--DON FERNANDO, DON DIEGO, DON ARIAS, DON SANCHO, DON ALONZO,\nCHIMÈNE, and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Don Fernando._ At last, be content, Chimène, success responds to your\nwishes. Although Rodrigo has gained the advantage over our enemies, he\nhas died before our eyes of the wounds he has received; return thanks to\nthat heaven which has avenged you. (_To Don Diego._) See, how already\nher color is changed!\n\n_Don Diego._ But see! she swoons, and in this swoon, sire, observe the\neffect of an overpowering [_lit._ perfect] love. Her grief has betrayed\nthe secrets of her soul, and no longer permits you to doubt her passion.\n\n_Chimène._ What, then! Is Rodrigo dead?\n\n_Don Fernando._ No, no, he still lives [_lit._ he sees the day]; and he\nstill preserves for you an unalterable affection; calm this sorrow which\ntakes such an interest in his favor.\n\n_Chimène._ Sire, we swoon from joy, as well as from grief; an excess of\npleasure renders us completely exhausted, and when it takes the mind by\nsurprise, it overpowers the senses.\n\n_Don Fernando._ Dost thou wish that in thy favor we should believe in\nimpossibilities? Chimène, thy grief appeared too clearly visible.\n\n_Chimène._ Well, sire! add this crown to my misfortune--call my swoon\nthe effect of my grief; a justifiable dissatisfaction reduced me to that\nextremity; his death would have saved his head from my pursuit. If he\nhad died of wounds received for the benefit of his country, my revenge\nwould have been lost, and my designs betrayed; such a brilliant end [of\nhis existence] would have been too injurious to me. I demand his death,\nbut not a glorious one, not with a glory which raises him so high, not\non an honorable death-bed, but upon a scaffold. Let him die for my\nfather and not for his country; let his name be attainted and his memory\nblighted. To die for one's country is not a sorrowful doom; it is to\nimmortalize one's self by a glorious death! I love then his victory, and\nI can do so without criminality; it [the victory] secures the kingdom\nand yields to me my victim. But ennobled, but illustrious amongst all\nwarriors, the chief crowned with laurels instead of flowers--and to say\nin a word what I think--worthy of being sacrificed to the shade of my\nfather. Alas! by what [vain] hope do I allow myself to be carried away?\nRodrigo has nothing to dread from me; what can tears which are despised\navail against him? For him your whole empire is a sanctuary [_lit._ a\nplace of freedom]; there, under your power, everything is lawful for\nhim; he triumphs over me as [well as] over his enemies; justice stifled\nin their blood that has been shed, serves as a new trophy for the crime\nof the conqueror. We increase its pomp, and contempt of the law causes\nus to follow his [triumphal] chariot between two kings.\n\n_Don Fernando._ My daughter, these transports are too violent [_lit._\nhave too much violence]. When justice is rendered, all is put in the\nscale. Thy father has been slain, he was the aggressor; and justice\nitself commands me [to have] mercy. Before accusing that [degree of\nclemency] which I show, consult well thine heart; Rodrigo is master of\nit; and thy love in secret returns thanks to thy King, whose favor\npreserves such a lover for thee.\n\n_Chimène._ For me! my enemy! the object of my wrath! the author of my\nmisfortunes? the slayer of my father! To my just pursuit [of vengeance]\nthey pay so little attention, that they believe that they are conferring\na favor on me by not listening to it. Since you refuse justice to my\ntears, sire, permit me to have recourse to arms; it is by that alone\nthat he has been able to injure me, and it is by that (means) also that\nI ought to avenge myself. From all your knights I demand his head; yes,\nlet one of them bring it to me, and I will be his prize; let them fight\nhim, sire, and, the combat being finished, I [will] espouse the\nconqueror, if Rodrigo is slain [_lit._ punished]. Under your authority,\npermit this to be made public.\n\n_Don Fernando._ This ancient custom established in these places, under\nthe guise of punishing an unjust affront, weakens a kingdom [by\ndepriving it] of its best warriors; the deplorable success of this abuse\n[of power] often crushes the innocent and shields the guilty. From this\n[ordeal] I release Rodrigo; he is too precious to me to expose him to\nthe [death] blows of capricious fate; and whatever (offence) a heart so\nmagnanimous could commit, the Moors, in retreating, have carried away\nhis crime.\n\n_Chimène._ What, sire, for him alone you reverse the laws, which all the\ncourt has so often seen observed! What will your people think, and what\nwill envy say, if he screens his life beneath your shield and he makes\nit a pretext not to appear [on a scene] where all men of honor seek a\nnoble death? Such favors would too deeply tarnish his glory; let him\nenjoy [_lit._ taste] without shame [_lit._ blushing] the fruits of his\nvictory. The count had audacity, he was able to punish him for it; he\n[i.e. Rodrigo] acted like a man of courage, and ought to maintain it\n[that character].\n\n_Don Fernando._ Since you wish it, I grant that he shall do so; but a\nthousand others would take the place of a vanquished warrior, and the\nreward which Chimène has promised to the conqueror would render all my\ncavaliers his enemies; to oppose him alone to all would be too great an\ninjustice; it is enough, he shall enter the lists once only. Choose who\n[what champion] you will, Chimène, and choose well; but after this\ncombat ask nothing more.\n\n_Don Diego._ Release not by that those whom his valor [_lit._ arm]\nterrifies; leave an open field which none will [dare to] enter. After\nwhat Rodrigo has shown us to-day, what courage sufficiently presumptuous\nwould dare to contend with him? Who would risk his life against such an\nopponent? Who will be this valiant, or rather this rash individual?\n\n_Don Sancho._ Open the lists, you see this assailant; I am this rash or\nrather this valiant [champion]. Grant this favor to the zeal which urges\nme on; dear lady, you know what your promise is.\n\n_Don Fernando._ Chimène, do you confide your quarrel to his hand?\n\n_Chimène._ Sire, I have promised it.\n\n_Don Fernando._ Be ready to-morrow.\n\n_Don Diego._ No, sire, there is no need to defer the contest; a man is\nalways ready when he possesses courage.\n\n_Don Fernando._ [What!] To come forth from one battle and to (instantly)\nenter the lists [_lit._ to fight]?\n\n_Don Diego._ Rodrigo has regained breath in relating to you this [i.e.\nthe history of that battle].\n\n_Don Fernando._ I desire that he should rest at least an hour or two;\nbut, for fear that such a combat may be considered as a precedent, to\ntestify to all that I permit, with regret, a sanguinary ordeal which has\nnever pleased me, it shall not have the presence either of myself or of\nmy court. [_To Don Arias._] You alone shall judge of the valor of the\ncombatants. Take care that both act like men of honor [_lit._ courage],\nand, the combat ended, bring the victor to me. Whoever he may be, the\nsame reward is gained by his exertions; I desire with my own hand to\npresent him to Chimène, and that, as a recompense, he may receive her\nplighted faith.\n\n_Chimène._ What, sire! [would you] impose on me so stern a law?\n\n_Don Fernando._ Thou complainest of it; but thy love, far from\nacknowledging thy complaint, if Rodrigo be the conqueror, without\nrestraint accepts [the conditions]. Cease to murmur against such a\ngentle decree; whichever of the two be the victor, I shall make him thy\nspouse.\n\n\n\n\nACT THE FIFTH.\n\n\nScene I.--DON RODRIGO and CHIMÈNE.\n\n\n_Chimène._ What! Rodrigo! In broad daylight! Whence comes this audacity?\nGo, thou art ruining my honor; retire, I beseech thee.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ I go to die, dear lady, and I come to bid you in this\nplace, before the mortal blow, a last adieu. This unchangeable love,\nwhich binds me beneath your laws, dares not to accept my death without\npaying to you homage for it.\n\n_Chimène._ Thou art going to death!\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ I speed to those happy moments which will deliver my life\nfrom your (feelings of) resentment.\n\n_Chimène._ Thou art going to death! Is Don Sancho, then, so formidable,\nthat he can inspire terror in this invincible heart? What has rendered\nthee so weak? or what renders him so strong? Does Rodrigo go to fight,\nand believe himself already slain [_lit._ dead]? He who has not feared\nthe Moors nor my father, goes to fight Don Sancho, and already despairs?\nThus, then, thy courage lowers itself in the [hour of] need.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ I speed [_lit._ I run] to my punishment, and not to the\ncombat; and, since you seek my death, my faithful ardor will readily\ndeprive me of the desire of defending my life. I have always the same\ncourage, but I have not the [strong] arm, when it is needed, to preserve\nthat which does not please you; and already this night would have been\nfatal to me, if I had fought for my own private wrong; but, defending my\nking, his people, and my country, by carelessly defending myself, I\nshould have betrayed _them_. My high-born spirit does not hate life so\nmuch as to wish to depart from it by perfidy, now that it regards my\ninterests only. You demand my death--I accept its decree. Your\nresentment chose the hand of another; I was unworthy [_lit._ I did not\ndeserve] to die by yours. They shall not see me repel its blows; I owe\nmore respect to him [the champion] who fights for you; and delighted to\nthink that it is from you these [blows] proceed--since it is your honor\nthat his arms sustain--I shall present to him my unprotected [_or_,\ndefenceless] breast, worshipping through his hand thine that destroys\nme.\n\n_Chimène._ If the just vehemence of a sad [sense of] duty, which causes\nme, in spite of myself, to follow after thy valiant life, prescribes to\nthy love a law so severe, that it surrenders thee without defence to him\nwho combats for me, in this infatuation [_lit._ blindness], lose not the\nrecollection, that, with thy life, thine honor is tarnished, and that,\nin whatever renown Rodrigo may have lived, when men shall know him to be\ndead, they will believe him conquered. Thine honor is dearer to thee\nthan I am dear, since it steeps thine hands in the blood of my father,\nand causes thee to renounce, in spite of thy love, the sweet hope of\ngaining me. I see thee, however, pay such little regard to it [honor],\nthat, without fighting, thou wishest to be overcome. What inconsistency\n[_lit._ unequality] mars thy valor! Why hast thou it [that valor] no\nmore? or why didst thou possess it [formerly]? What! art thou valiant\nonly to do me an injury? Unless it be to offend [_or_, injure] me, hast\nthou no courage at all? And dost thou treat my father with such rigor\n[i.e. so far disparage the memory of my father], that, after having\nconquered him, thou wilt endure a conqueror? Go! without wishing to die,\nleave me to pursue thee, and defend thine honor, if thou wilt no longer\nlive.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ After the death of the count and the defeat of the\nMoors, will my renown still require other achievements? That [glory] may\nscorn the care of defending myself; it is known that my courage dares to\nattempt all, that my valor can accomplish all, and that, here below\n[_lit._ under the heavens], in comparison with mine honor, nothing is\nprecious to me. No! no! in this combat, whatever thou may'st please to\nthink, Rodrigo may die without risking his renown: without men daring to\naccuse him of having wanted spirit: without being considered as\nconquered, without enduring a conqueror. They will say only: \"He adored\nChimène; he would not live and merit her hatred; he yielded himself to\nthe severity of his fate, which compelled his mistress to seek his\ndeath; she wished for his life [_lit._ head], and his magnanimous heart,\nhad that been refused to her, would have considered it a crime. To\navenge his honor, he lost his love; to avenge his mistress, he forsook\nlife, preferring (whatever hope may have enslaved his soul) his honor to\nChimène, and Chimène to his existence.\" Thus, then, you will see that my\ndeath in this conflict, far from obscuring my glory, will increase its\nvalue; and this honor will follow my voluntary death, that no other than\nmyself could have satisfied you [for the death of your father].\n\n_Chimène._ Since, to prevent thee from rushing to destruction, thy life\nand thine honor are [but] feeble inducements, if ever I loved thee, dear\nRodrigo, in return [for that love], defend thyself now, to rescue me\nfrom Don Sancho. Fight, to release me from a compact which delivers me\nto the object of my aversion. Shall I say more to thee? Go, think of thy\ndefence, to overcome my sense of duty, to impose on me silence; and if\nthou feelest thine heart still enamored for me, come forth, as a\nconqueror, from a combat of which Chimène is the reward. Adieu; this\nthoughtlessly uttered [_lit._ let slip] word causes me to blush for\nshame!\n\n[_Exit Chimène._]\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Where is the foe I could not now subdue? Come forth,\n[warriors] of Navarre, Morocco, and Castile! and all the heroes that\nSpain has produced; unite together and form an army, to contend against\none hand thus nerved [to action]. Unite all your efforts against a hope\nso sweet--you have too little power to succeed in destroying it!\n\n\nScene II.--THE INFANTA.\n\n\nShall I listen to thee still, pride of my birth, that makest a crime out\nof my passions? Shall I listen to thee, love, whose delicious power\ncauses my desires to rebel against this proud tyrant? Poor princess! to\nwhich of the two oughtest thou to yield obedience? Rodrigo, thy valor\nrenders thee worthy of me; but although thou art valiant, thou art not\nthe son of a king.\n\nPitiless fate, whose severity separates my glory and my desires! Is it\ndecreed [_lit._ said], that the choice of [a warrior of] such rare merit\nshould cost my passion such great anguish? O heaven! for how many\nsorrows [_lit._ sighs] must my heart prepare itself, if, after such a\nlong, painful struggle, it never succeeds in either extinguishing the\nlove, or accepting the lover!\n\nBut there are too many scruples, and my reason is alarmed at the\ncontempt of a choice so worthy; although to monarchs only my [proud]\nbirth may assign me, Rodrigo, with honor I shall live under thy laws.\nAfter having conquered two kings, couldst thou fail in obtaining a\ncrown? And this great name of Cid, which thou hast just now won--does it\nnot show too clearly over whom thou art destined to reign?\n\nHe is worthy of me, but he belongs to Chimène; the present which I made\nof him [to her], injures me. Between them, the death of a father has\ninterposed so little hatred, that the duty of blood with regret pursues\nhim. Thus let us hope for no advantage, either from his transgression or\nfrom my grief, since, to punish me, destiny has allowed that love should\ncontinue even between two enemies.\n\n\nScene III.--THE INFANTA and LEONORA.\n\n\n_Infanta._ Whence [i.e. for what purpose] comest thou, Leonora?\n\n_Leonora._ To congratulate you, dear lady, on the tranquillity which at\nlast your soul has recovered.\n\n_Infanta._ From what quarter can tranquillity come [_lit._ whence should\nthis tranquillity come], in an accumulation of sorrow?\n\n_Leonora._ If love lives on hope, and if it dies with it, Rodrigo can no\nmore charm your heart; you know of the combat in which Chimène involves\nhim; since he must die in it, or become her husband, your hope is dead\nand your spirit is healed.\n\n_Infanta._ Ah! how far from it!\n\n_Leonora._ What more can you expect?\n\n_Infanta._ Nay, rather, what hope canst thou forbid me [to entertain]?\nIf Rodrigo fights under these conditions, to counteract the effect of it\n[that conflict], I have too many resources. Love, this sweet author of\nmy cruel punishments, puts into [_lit._ teaches] the minds of lovers too\nmany stratagems.\n\n_Leonora._ Can _you_ [accomplish] anything, since a dead father has not\nbeen able to kindle discord in their minds? For Chimène clearly shows by\nher behavior that hatred to-day does not cause her pursuit. She obtains\nthe [privilege of a] combat, and for her champion, she accepts on the\nmoment the first that offers. She has not recourse to those renowned\nknights [_lit._ noble hands] whom so many famous exploits render so\nglorious; Don Sancho suffices her, and merits her choice, because he is\ngoing to arm himself for the first time; she loves in this duel his want\nof experience; as he is without renown, [so] is she without\napprehension; and her readiness [to accept him], ought to make you\nclearly see that she seeks for a combat which her duty demands, but\nwhich yields her Rodrigo an easy victory, and authorizes her at length\nto seem appeased.\n\n_Infanta._ I observe it clearly; and nevertheless my heart, in rivalry\nwith Chimène, adores this conqueror. On what shall I resolve, hopeless\nlover that I am?\n\n_Leonora._ To remember better from whom you are sprung. Heaven owes you\na king; you love a subject!\n\n_Infanta._ The object of my attachment has completely changed: I no\nlonger love Rodrigo as a mere nobleman. No; it is not thus that my love\nentitles him. If I love him, it is [as] the author of so many brilliant\ndeeds; it is [as] the valiant Cid, the master of two kings. I shall\nconquer myself, however; not from dread of any censure, but in order\nthat I may not disturb so glorious a love; and even though, to favor me,\nthey should crown him, I will not accept again [_lit._ take back] a gift\nwhich I have given. Since in such a combat his triumph is certain, let\nus go once more to give him [_or_, that gift] to Chimène. And thou, who\nseest the love-arrows with which my heart is pierced; come see me finish\nas I have begun.\n\n\nScene IV.--CHIMÈNE and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Chimène._ Elvira, how greatly I suffer; and how much I am to be pitied!\nI know not what to hope, and I see everything to be dreaded. No wish\nescapes me to which I dare consent. I desire nothing without quickly\nrepenting of it [_lit._ a quick repentance]. I have caused two rivals to\ntake up arms for me: the most happy result will cause me tears; and\nthough fate may decree in my favor, my father is without revenge, or my\nlover is dead.\n\n_Elvira._ On the one side and the other I see you consoled; either you\nhave Rodrigo, or you are avenged. And however fate may ordain for you,\nit maintains your honor and gives you a spouse.\n\n_Chimène._ What! the object of my hatred or of such resentment!--the\nslayer of Rodrigo, or that of my father! In either case [_lit._ on all\nsides] they give me a husband, still [all] stained with the blood that I\ncherished most; in either case my soul revolts, and I fear more than\ndeath the ending of my quarrel. Away! vengeance, love--which agitate my\nfeelings. Ye have no gratifications for me at such a price; and Thou,\nPowerful Controller of the destiny which afflicts me, terminate this\ncombat without any advantage, without rendering either of the two\nconquered or conqueror.\n\n_Elvira._ This would be treating you with too much severity. This combat\nis a new punishment for your feelings, if it leaves you [still]\ncompelled to demand justice, to exhibit always this proud resentment,\nand continually to seek after the death of your lover. Dear lady, it is\nfar better that his unequalled valor, crowning his brow, should impose\nsilence upon you; that the conditions of the combat should extinguish\nyour sighs; and that the King should compel you to follow your\ninclinations.\n\n_Chimène._ If he be conqueror, dost thou believe that I shall\nsurrender? My strong [sense of] duty is too strong and my loss too\ngreat; and this [law of] combat and the will of the King are not strong\nenough to dictate conditions to them [i.e. to my duty and sorrow for\nmy loss]. He may conquer Don Sancho with very little difficulty, but he\nshall not with him [conquer] the sense of duty of Chimène; and whatever\n[reward] a monarch may have promised to his victory, my self-respect\nwill raise against him a thousand other enemies.\n\n_Elvira._ Beware lest, to punish this strange pride, heaven may at last\npermit you to revenge yourself. What!--you will still reject the\nhappiness of being able now to be reconciled [_lit._ to be silent] with\nhonor? What means this duty, and what does it hope for? Will the death\nof your lover restore to you a father? Is one [fatal] stroke of\nmisfortune insufficient for you? Is there need of loss upon loss, and\nsorrow upon sorrow? Come, in the caprice in which your humor persists,\nyou do not deserve the lover that is destined for you, and we may\n[_lit._ shall] see the just wrath of heaven, by his death, leaving you\nDon Sancho as a spouse.\n\n_Chimène._ Elvira, the griefs which I endure are sufficient: do not\nredouble them by this fatal augury. I wish, if I can, to avoid both; but\nif not, in this conflict Rodrigo has all my prayers; not because a weak\n[_lit._ foolish] affection inclines me to his side, but because, if he\nwere conquered, I should become [the bride] of Don Sancho. This fear\ncreates [_lit._ causes to be born] my desire----\n\n            [_Enter Don Sancho._]\n\nWhat do I see, unhappy [woman that I am]! Elvira, all is lost!\n\n\nScene V.--DON SANCHO, CHIMÈNE, and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Don Sancho._ Compelled to bring this sword to thy feet----\n\n_Chimène._ What! still [all] reeking with the blood of Rodrigo! Traitor,\ndost thou dare to show thyself before mine eyes, after having taken from\nme that [being] whom I love the best? Declare thyself my love, and thou\nhast no more to fear. My father is satisfied; cease to restrain thyself.\nThe same [death] stroke has placed my honor in safety, my soul in\ndespair, and my passion at liberty!\n\n_Don Sancho._ With a mind more calmly collected----\n\n_Chimène._ Dost thou still speak to me, detestable assassin of a hero\nwhom I adore? Go; you fell upon him treacherously. A warrior so valiant\nwould never have sunk beneath such an assailant! Hope nothing from me.\nThou hast not served me; and believing that thou wert avenging me, thou\nhast deprived me of life.\n\n_Don Sancho._ Strange delusion, which, far from listening to me----\n\n_Chimène._ Wilt thou that I should listen to thee while boasting of his\ndeath?--that I should patiently hear with what haughty pride thou wilt\ndescribe his misfortune, my own crime, and thy prowess?\n\n\nScene VI.--DON FERNANDO, DON DIEGO, DON ARIAS, DON SANCHO, DON ALONZO,\nCHIMÈNE, and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Chimène._ Sire, there is no further need to dissemble that which all my\nstruggles have not been able to conceal from you. I loved, you knew it;\nbut, to avenge my father, I even wished to sacrifice so dear a being [as\nRodrigo]. Sire, your majesty may have seen how I have made love yield to\nduty. At last, Rodrigo is dead; and his death has converted me from an\nunrelenting foe into an afflicted lover. I owed this revenge to him who\ngave me existence; and to my love I now owe these tears. Don Sancho has\ndestroyed me in undertaking my defence; and I am the reward of the arm\nwhich destroys me. Sire, if compassion can influence a king, for mercy's\nsake revoke a law so severe. As the reward of a victory by which I lose\nthat which I love, I leave him my possessions; let him leave me to\nmyself, that in a sacred cloister I may weep continually, even to my\nlast sigh, for my father and my lover.\n\n_Don Diego._ In brief, she loves, sire, and no longer believes it a\ncrime to acknowledge with her own lips a lawful affection.\n\n_Don Fernando._ Chimène, be undeceived [_lit._ come out from thine\nerror]; thy lover is not dead, and the vanquished Don Sancho has given\nthee a false report.\n\n_Don Sancho._ Sire, a little too much eagerness, in spite of me, has\nmisled her; I came from the combat to tell her the result. This noble\nwarrior of whom her heart is enamored, when he had disarmed me, spoke to\nme thus: \"Fear nothing--I would rather leave the victory uncertain, than\nshed blood risked in defence of Chimène; but, since my duty calls me to\nthe King, go, tell her of our combat [on my behalf]; on the part of the\nconqueror, carry her thy sword.\" Sire, I came; this weapon deceived her;\nseeing me return, she believed me to be conqueror, and her resentment\nsuddenly betrayed her love, with such excitement and so much impatience,\nthat I could not obtain a moment's hearing. As for me, although\nconquered, I consider myself fortunate; and in spite of the interests of\nmy enamored heart, [though] losing infinitely, I still love my defeat,\nwhich causes the triumph of a love so perfect.\n\n_Don Fernando._ My daughter, there is no need to blush for a passion so\nglorious, nor to seek means of making a disavowal of it; a laudable\n[sense of] shame in vain solicits thee; thy honor is redeemed, and thy\nduty performed; thy father is satisfied, and it was to avenge him that\nthou didst so often place thy Rodrigo in danger. Thou seest how heaven\notherwise ordains. Having done so much for him [i.e. thy father], do\nsomething for thyself; and be not rebellious against my command, which\ngives thee a spouse beloved so dearly.\n\n\nScene VII.--DON FERNANDO, DON DIEGO, DON ARIAS, DON RODRIGO, DON\nALONZO, DON SANCHO, THE INFANTA, CHIMÈNE, LEONORA, and ELVIRA.\n\n\n_Infanta._ Dry thy tears, Chimène, and receive without sadness this\nnoble conqueror from the hands of thy princess.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ Be not offended, sire, if in your presence an impassioned\nhomage causes me to kneel before her [_lit._ casts me before her knees].\nI come not here to ask for [the reward of] my victory; I come once more\n[_or_, anew] to offer you my head, dear lady. My love shall not employ\nin my own favor either the law of the combat or the will of the King. If\nall that has been done is too little for a father, say by what means you\nmust be satisfied. Must I still contend against a thousand and a\nthousand rivals, and to the two ends of the earth extend my labors,\nmyself alone storm a camp, put to flight an army, surpass the renown of\nfabulous heroes? If my deep offence can be by that means washed away, I\ndare undertake all, and can accomplish all. But if this proud honor,\nalways inexorable, cannot be appeased without the death of the guilty\n[offender], arm no more against me the power of mortals; mine head is at\nthy feet, avenge thyself by thine own hands; thine hands alone have the\nright to vanquish the invincible. Take thou a vengeance to all others\nimpossible. But at least let my death suffice to punish me; banish me\nnot from thy remembrance, and, since my doom preserves your honor, to\nrecompense yourself for this, preserve my memory, and say sometimes,\nwhen deploring my fate: \"Had he not loved me, he would not have died.\"\n\n_Chimène._ Rise, Rodrigo. I must confess it, sire, I have said too much\nto be able to unsay it. Rodrigo has noble qualities which I cannot hate;\nand, when a king commands, he ought to be obeyed. But to whatever [fate]\nyou may have already doomed me, can you, before your eyes, tolerate this\nunion? And when you desire this effort from my feeling of duty, is it\nentirely in accord with your sense of justice? If Rodrigo becomes so\nindispensable to the state, of that which he has done for you ought I to\nbe the reward, and surrender myself to the everlasting reproach of\nhaving imbrued my hands in the blood of a father?\n\n_Don Fernando._ Time has often rendered lawful that which at first\nseemed impossible, without being a crime. Rodrigo has won thee, and thou\nart justly his. But, although his valor has by conquest obtained thee\nto-day, it would need that I should become the enemy of thy\nself-respect, to give him so soon the reward of his victory. This bridal\ndeferred does not break a law, which, without specifying the time,\ndevotes thy faith to him. Take a year, if thou wilt, to dry thy tears;\nRodrigo, in the mean time, must take up arms. After having vanquished\nthe Moors on our borders, overthrown their plans, and repulsed their\nattacks, go, carry the war even into their country, command my army,\nand ravage their territory. At the mere name of Cid they will tremble\nwith dismay. They have named thee lord! they will desire thee as their\nking! But, amidst thy brilliant [_lit._ high] achievements, be thou to\nher always faithful; return, if it be possible, still more worthy of\nher, and by thy great exploits acquire such renown, that it may be\nglorious for her to espouse thee then.\n\n_Don Rodrigo._ To gain Chimène, and for your service, what command can\nbe issued to me that mine arm cannot accomplish? Yet, though absent from\nher [dear] eyes, I must suffer grief, sire, I have too much happiness in\nbeing able--to hope!\n\n_Don Fernando._ Hope in thy manly resolution; hope in my promise, and\nalready possessing the heart of thy mistress, let time, thy valor, and\nthy king exert themselves [_lit._ do, or act], to overcome a scrupulous\nfeeling of honor which is contending against thee.\n\n\n\n\nTHE END."