No More Learning

This noble country, they long possessed,
With jealousy in their eyes they address.
That is why, according to my will,
Castile was ruled these ten years from Seville,
To be nearer them, and be the swifter
To oppose whatever threat they offer.

Arias
To the great cost of their leaders, and their fleet,
They know your presence assures their defeat.
There's naught to fear.

King
Neglect nothing, either.
Overconfidence attracts new danger.
You know yourself how easy it would be
For the flood tide to carry them to me.
Yet I'd be wrong, since all is uncertain,
In spreading fear in the hearts of men.
The panic that a vain alarm would bring,
In the darkness, would be a cruel thing:
Double the watch on the walls instead,
Guard the port, tonight.


Act II Scene VII (King Ferdinand, Don Sanche, Don Alonso)

Alonso
Sire, the Count is dead.
Don Diegue, through his son, takes his revenge.

King
On news of the insult, I foresaw its end;
Thus I wished to prevent this calamity.

Alonso
Chimene arrives, plunged in her misery;
Tearful she comes here, to plead for justice.

King
Though my heart sympathises with her grief,
The Count's deed merited this penalty,
One he had earned by his temerity.
Yet despite the justice of his fall,
I regret the loss of such a general.
After his lengthy service to the State,
After the blood he spilt for me of late,
Whatever sentiments his pride inflicts,
His loss enfeebles me, his death afflicts.


Act II Scene VIII (King Ferdinand, Don Diegue, Chimene, Don Sanche, Don Arias, Don Alonso)

Chimene
Sire, Sire, justice!

Diegue
Ah, Sire! Hear my pleas.

Chimene
I throw myself at your feet

Diegue
I clasp your knees.

Chimene
I demand justice.

Diegue
Hear my defence.

Chimene
The youth is rash, punish his insolence.
He has destroyed the pillar of your throne,
He has killed my father.

Diegue
He has avenged his own.

Chimene
His subjects' justice is a king's intent.

Diege
Just vengeance deserves no such punishment.

King
Rise both of you, and speak more calmly.
Chimene, I share in all your misery;
My soul is now marked by a like taint.

(To Don Diegue)

You may speak next, I sanction her complaint.

Chimene
Sire, my father is dead; and as he died
I saw the blood pour from his noble side;
That blood which often preserved your walls,
That blood which often won your royal wars,
That blood, which shed still smokes in anger,
At being lost, not for you but another.