No More Learning

Your fateful valour teaches by victory,
It avenged your father, and his glory:
The same need is mine, to my horror,
Maintain my honour, avenge my father.
Alas! Your love for me is my despair.
If some other ill had slain my father there,
My soul would have found in seeing you
The one solace I might hope to view;
I would have felt the cure for grief and fears,
If your loving hand had dried my tears,
But I must lose one, having lost the other;
Quenching my love, a debt to my honour;
And this awful duty whose rule slays me,
Drives me to work your ruin swiftly.
Do not expect, despite all my affection,
Craven feelings aimed in your direction.
Though our love pleads now in your favour,
My soul must equal yours in honour:
Though offending me, you prove worthy too;
I must, by your death, prove worthy yet of you.

Rodrigue
No longer delay the claims of honour:
It asks my life, and I am in your power;
Sacrifice me to your noble vengeance.
The blow will be as sweet as the sentence.
If given my crime you await slow justice,
Honour and my punishment both languish.
I will die happy dying by a hand so pure.

Chimene
Go, I am not your executioner.
If you offer me your life, must I offend?
I must attack you, but you may defend;
It must fall to other hands than mine,
I may pursue, not punish the crime.

Rodrigue
Whatever our love pleads in my favour,
Your soul must equal mine in honour;
And to borrow others to avenge a father,
My Chimene, believe me, will not answer:
My hand alone avenged that first offence,
Your hand alone must now seek vengeance.

Chimene
Cruel!
Why so obstinate in this matter?
You had no help, yet make me this offer!
I'll follow your example, I am brave too,
I'll not let my honour be shared with you.
My father and my honour will owe nothing
To your love, or your despair in dying.

Rodrigue
How harsh is honour! What then can I do
To win this grace ultimately from you?
In the name of a dead father, or our amity,
Punish by vengeance, or at least by pity.
Your unfortunate lover finds here less pain,
Death at your hand, than life with your disdain.

Chimene
Go, I do not disdain you.

Rodrigue
Then, you should.

Chimene
I cannot.

Rodrigue
Have you all blame and slander so forgot?
My crime once known, if you keep the flame,
What will envy and falsehood not proclaim!
Ensure their silence: cease this waste of breath,
Preserve your name and bring about my death.

Chimene
To let you live then is the best for me;
I would that the blackest voice of envy
Might praise me to the skies and pity too,
Knowing I love and must denounce you.
Go, no longer show to my flawed will
What I must lose, while I adore it still.