No More Learning

Count
All I merited, you have snatched away.

Diegue
He conquered who proved better on the day.

Count
He who might train the prince is worthiest.

Diegue
And yet to be denied seems scarcely best.

Count
You won it by intrigue, an old 'king's man'.

Diegue
The noise of my great deeds proved partisan.

Count
Be clear, the king shows honour to your age.

Diegue
The king, if so, measures it by my courage.

Count
Therefore the honour should have come to me.

Diegue
He who could not obtain it is not worthy.

Count
Not merit it! I?

Diegue
You.

Count
Your impudence,
Rash old man, shall find its recompense.

(He strikes Don Diegue)

Diegue (drawing his sword)
Come take my life after such cruel offence,
First of my race to bear such impertinence.
Count
What in your weakness can you do, indeed?

Diegue
Oh God! My frail strength flees me in my need!

Count
Your sword is mine, and you no longer worthy
That my hand should bear this shameful trophy.
Adieu. Let the prince read, courting envy,
For his instruction, all your life history;
For your insolent speech this chastisement
Shall serve him for no small amusement.


Act I Scene IV (Don Diegue)

Diegue
O anger! O despair! O age my enemy!
Have I lived simply to know this infamy!
Am I thus whitened by the toil of battles
To witness in a day but withered laurels?
My arm that with respect all Spain admire,
My arm, that often saved that very empire,
So often affirmed the royalty of my king,
Now to betray my quarrel, leave me wanting?
O cruel memory to my past glory!
The work of many days so transitory!
New dignity now fatal in an hour!
Steep abyss where falls all my honour!