No More Learning

Rodrigue is dead, and his death changed me
To afflicted lover from implacable enemy.
Vengeance was owing to my father,
And now I owe tears to my lover.
Don Sanche caused me ill, in my defence,
And that ill-dealing arm I must recompense!
Sire, if compassion can sway a king,
I beg you to revoke your harsh ruling;
For what lost me my love, his victory,
I leave him my fortune; if he'll forgo me;
That I may weep in some sacred cloister,
To my last breath, for father and for lover.

Diegue
She still loves, Sire, and thinks it no crime
To confess a love so true, to you, at this time.

King
Chimene, you are wrong, your lover is not dead,
Sanche, the vanquished, spoke falsely instead.

Sanche
Her ardour deceived her, in spite of me:
I left the fight, Sire, to recount it swiftly.
The noble warrior, who has claimed her,
Said when he disarmed me: 'Have no fear.
I would rather leave the outcome uncertain,
Than shed blood placed at risk for Chimene;
But since duty summons me to the King
Go tell her for me of our undertaking,
Take your sword on behalf of the victor. '
Sire, I went: the blade itself deceived her;
She thought me the victor seeing me there,
And betrayed her love in her swift anger
With so much agitation and impatience,
I could not gain a moment's audience.
For myself, though conquered I'm content;
And despite my own amorous intent,
And infinite loss, I welcome my defeat,
Rendering a perfect love thus complete.

King
My daughter, be not ashamed of this love,
Nor seek the means its power to disprove;
An honourable shame urges you in vain;
Your duty is done, your honour true again;
Your father's satisfied, as his avenger
You have so often placed his life in danger.
Yet you see Heaven wishes something else.
Having worked for others, act now for yourself,
And do not struggle against my command,
That will grant you a beloved husband.


Act V Scene VII (King, Diegue, Arias, Rodrigue, Alonso, Sanche, Infanta, Chimene, Leonor, Elvire)

Infanta
Dry your tears, Chimene, and free of sadness
Receive him from the hands of your princess.
Rodrigue
Be not offended if in your presence, Sire,
Loving respect makes me kneel before her.
I have not come here to demand my prize:
I have come, once more, to offer you my life,
Madame; my love employs in its own cause
Neither King's will, nor customary laws.
If what is done was too little for a father,
What will it take to satisfy you more?
Must I battle with a thousand rivals,
To the earth's ends extend my labours,
Attack a camp alone, or rout an army,
Exceed the fame of heroes legendary?
If my crime can thus be washed away,
I'll undertake whatever deed today:
But if proud honour, all inexorable,
To be appeased, must slay the criminal,
Do not seek to use man's power against me:
Avenge yourself, my head bows at your feet;
Your hands must conquer the invincible;
Take that vengeance others find impossible;
But let my death suffice to punish me.
Do not banish me from your memory,
And say sometimes, in pitying my life:
'If he'd not loved me, he'd not have died. '

Chimene
Rise Rodrigue. Sire, know this for a fact,
I have gone too far to wish to retract.
Rodrigue has virtues that I cannot hate:
And when a King commands, we must obey.
But, regardless of your previous ruling,
Can you endure to see such a wedding?
And if as a duty you wish to view it,
Is royal justice in accord with it?
If Rodrigue is essential to the State,
Must I pay for the workings of fate.
Expose myself to this reproach, eternal,
Of having bathed my hands in blood paternal?

King
Often enough time makes legitimate
What, at first sight, seems illegitimate.
Rodrigue has won you, and you are his.
But though today valour deserves this,
I would prove an enemy to your honour
To grant him now the prize of his valour.