No More Learning

Am I deceived once more,
Or is this my last hope I stand before?
Without doubt it's he; my prayers are answered,
My fears are over now, my cares are ended.


Act III Scene VI (Don Diegue, Don Rodrigue)

Diegue
Rodrigue, Heaven sends you to me, my boy!

Rodrigue
Alas!

Diegue
Do not blend your sighs with my joy;
Let me take breath before I praise you.
My valour has no cause to disown you;
You've emulated it, your great daring
Shows our heroic race is still breathing.
You descend from them, you are my issue;
Your first sword-thrust equalled mine too;
And with fine ardour your lively youth
Attains my fame with this single proof.
Prop of my old age, crown of my delight,
Clasp what you've honoured, this head all white,
Come, kiss this cheek, and so kiss the place
Where the wrong fell your courage did efface.

Rodrigue
The honour is yours; I could do no less
Born of our race, nurtured at its breast.
I count myself happy if it brings delight,
My trial stroke pleasing him who gave me life;
But be not jealous, now, of joy's faction,
If I in turn choose to seek satisfaction.
Let my despair burst forth, at liberty,
Your speech has now too long restrained me.
I am not sorry to have served so nobly;
But return the good this blade stole from me.
My arm, to avenge you, raised against my love
Deprived me of my soul, by the strokes I wove.
Speak nothing more; through you I am dismayed:
What I owed you, I've generously paid.

Diegue
Bear more nobly this fruit of victory:
I gave you life and you return me glory;
Since dearer to me than life is honour,
So in return I owe you all the more.
Yet from a true heart drive all weaknesses,
We've but one honour, many mistresses!
Love is mere pleasure, honour is a duty.

Rodrigue
What's this you say?

Diegue
What you know, already.

Rodrigue
Offended honour takes its vengeance on me,
And, shame, you dare urge infidelity!
Their vileness matches, equally applies
To cowardly blades, and disloyal eyes.
To my loyal heart do no injury;
Let me be noble without perjury;
My bonds are far too strong to be broken;
Even without hope my faith's unshaken;
Unable to leave or possess Chimene,
The death I seek is my sweetest pain.

Diegue
This is no time for you to search for death.
Your prince your nation need your loyal breath.
The fleet we feared, entering the estuary,
Seeks to surprise the town, scorch the country.
The Moors sail silently, the tide and night
Will bring them to our walls before the light.
The Court's in chaos, the people terrified.
Shouts and tears alone flow from our side.
In this disaster, fate gave its decree,
I found five hundred friends attend on me,
Who, knowing the affront, with equal metal,
Came and offered to avenge my quarrel.
You forestalled them; but this valiant band
Is best deployed against the African.
March at their head, the post of honour;
Their noble troop asks for you as leader.