No More Learning

I did what I could, Sire, with no result.

King
Heavens! Is this how the presumptuous subject
Shows his consideration, and respect?
He scorns his king, insults Diegue, I see!
Before my court lays down the law to me!
Brave soldier and great general he may be,
But I've the means to lower pride so lofty;
Were he valour itself, the god of war,
He shall know the full weight of my law.
Despite the punishment for insolence,
I had at first voted for lenience;
But since he abuses it, go, today,
Whether he resists or not, lock him away.

Sanche
Time may make him less of a rebel;
He was still heated from his quarrel;
Sire, in the first glow of such anger
To calm so noble a heart takes longer.
He knows he's wrong, but his proud spirit
Won't let him confess his error, as yet.

King
Sanche, be silent now, and be advised
To take his part's a crime to my eyes.

Sanche
I obey and am silent: yet Sire, mercy,
One word in his defence.

King
What may that be?

Sanche
That a spirit accustomed to great action
Cannot bow readily in submission:
It cannot see what justifies such shame:
The word alone the Count resists, I say.
He found this duty too harsh, in truth,
If he had less heart, he'd bow to you.
Command his arm, strengthened in battle
To repair the injury and fight his duel;
He will give satisfaction; come what may,
He expects to hear, this answers him I say.
King
You lack respect; I'll allow for your age,
Excuse the ardour of your youthful courage.
A king, whose prudence has finer objects,
Takes care to save the blood of his subjects.
I guard my people, my thought preserves them,
As the head cares for the limbs its servants.
Thus your logic is not mine: however
I speak as a king, you as a soldier;
Whatever you say, whatever he believes,
No honour is lost in obeying me.
Then this insult touches me, the honour
Of one whom I have made my son's tutor;
To contest my choice, is to challenge me,
Make an assault upon the power supreme.
No more. Besides, we observe ten vessels
Of our old enemies, flaunting their banners;
They have dared to approach the river-course.

Arias
The Moors have learnt to know you by force.
Conquered so often now they will no more
Chance themselves against the conqueror.

King
Ever with envy they view the power
Of my sceptre over Andalusia.
This noble country, they long possessed,
With jealousy in their eyes they address.
That is why, according to my will,
Castile was ruled these ten years from Seville,
To be nearer them, and be the swifter
To oppose whatever threat they offer.

Arias
To the great cost of their leaders, and their fleet,
They know your presence assures their defeat.
There's naught to fear.

King
Neglect nothing, either.
Overconfidence attracts new danger.