No More Learning

Leonor
Yet, Madame, considering your success
Your show of sadness runs now to excess.
Should love, that's full for them of happiness,
Cause your noble heart this deep distress?
Why should the interest in them, I see,
Cause you unhappiness if they are happy?
But I presume: forgive my indiscretion.

Infanta
My sorrow has increased by being hidden.
Hear, hear how I have struggled, all is true,
Hear of the assaults against my virtue.
Love is a tyrant who spares none, I fear:
This young knight, this lover, aided here,
I love.

Leonor
You love him!

Infanta
Feel my beating heart,
See how it quivers at the conqueror's dart,
When it hears his name.

Leonor
Madame, pardon me,
If I'm at fault for censuring this folly,
A great princess so strangely to forget
Herself, and love a simple knight as yet!
What will the king, what will Castile say?
Do you forget the role that you must play?

Infanta
So little that my blood would drench the earth
Before I'd stoop thus to betray my birth.
I might well answer that among great names,
Worth alone deserves to stir the flames;
Or, if my passion sought for some excuse,
A thousand precedents have lit the fuse:
But I'll not follow where my thoughts engage;
My depth of feeling will not quench my courage.
I remind myself as a royal daughter
None but royalty is worthy of her.
My heart unable to defend itself,
I gave away what I dared not take myself;
In my stead, let Chimene drink the wine,
And fire their passion to extinguish mine.
No wonder then if my soul, while grieving,
With impatience waits upon their wedding;
You see, my peace of mind depends on it.
If lovers live in hope, love dies with it;
Its fire sinks when the fuel's no longer there.
Despite the anguish of this sad affair,
When Chimene Rodrigue has secured
All my hopes are dead, my spirit cured.
Meanwhile my suffering none can remove.
Until the marriage, Rodrigue is still my love.
I labour to lose him, lose him with regret,
From that flows all my sorrowful secret.
I see, with pain, that love will now constrain
Me to sigh for that which I must disdain;
I feel my very soul is split in two.
Though my strength is great, my love is too.
This fatal marriage I both wish and fear:
I dare expect only imperfection here.
My honour and my love so fuel this plot,
I perish whether it takes place or not.

Leonor
Madame, there is nothing I can say,
Except that I'll sigh with you, if I may.
I have just blamed you, now I pity you.
Yet since this bittersweet ill your virtue
Combats, as it does its charm and power,
Repulsing the assault, rejecting the allure,
It will bring peace to your troubled mind.
Place your trust in it, and the aid of time,
Above all in Heaven, that will not see
Virtue endure for long such adversity.

Infanta
My sweetest hope's to lose all hope, I fear.