No More Learning

I count myself happy if it brings delight,
My trial stroke pleasing him who gave me life;
But be not jealous, now, of joy's faction,
If I in turn choose to seek satisfaction.
Let my despair burst forth, at liberty,
Your speech has now too long restrained me.
I am not sorry to have served so nobly;
But return the good this blade stole from me.
My arm, to avenge you, raised against my love
Deprived me of my soul, by the strokes I wove.
Speak nothing more; through you I am dismayed:
What I owed you, I've generously paid.

Diegue
Bear more nobly this fruit of victory:
I gave you life and you return me glory;
Since dearer to me than life is honour,
So in return I owe you all the more.
Yet from a true heart drive all weaknesses,
We've but one honour, many mistresses!
Love is mere pleasure, honour is a duty.

Rodrigue
What's this you say?

Diegue
What you know, already.

Rodrigue
Offended honour takes its vengeance on me,
And, shame, you dare urge infidelity!
Their vileness matches, equally applies
To cowardly blades, and disloyal eyes.
To my loyal heart do no injury;
Let me be noble without perjury;
My bonds are far too strong to be broken;
Even without hope my faith's unshaken;
Unable to leave or possess Chimene,
The death I seek is my sweetest pain.

Diegue
This is no time for you to search for death.
Your prince your nation need your loyal breath.
The fleet we feared, entering the estuary,
Seeks to surprise the town, scorch the country.
The Moors sail silently, the tide and night
Will bring them to our walls before the light.
The Court's in chaos, the people terrified.
Shouts and tears alone flow from our side.
In this disaster, fate gave its decree,
I found five hundred friends attend on me,
Who, knowing the affront, with equal metal,
Came and offered to avenge my quarrel.
You forestalled them; but this valiant band
Is best deployed against the African.
March at their head, the post of honour;
Their noble troop asks for you as leader.
Go: halt the foe's first expense of breath,
If you wish to die, there lies noble death.
Seize this chance, since it is offered freely;
To your loss the king may owe his safety.
Yet rather return with laurel on your brow.
Let glory be more than mere vengeance now,
Carry it further, let valour influence
The king to pardon, and Chimene to silence;
If you love her, then return the victor,
The one way that is left to you to win her.
But time is too precious to be wasted thus;
I'll forgo speech, wishing you to leave us.
Come, follow me, go fight, and show your king
What he lost with the Count, you again bring.

End of Act III


Act IV Scene I (Chimene, Elvire)

Chimene
Are the rumours true, Elvire? Are you sure?

Elvire
You'd never believe how he's admired, or
How with one voice, they praise them so,
The glorious deeds of this young hero.