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The Cid

A Tragicomedy
  
  
  
  
  

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SCENE V.
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SCENE V.

KING. D. ARIAS. D. DIEGO. CIMENA. D. SANCHO. D. ALONSO.
CIMENA.
Justice, Sir, Justice, I aske it on my knees.

D. DIEGO.
O Sir give eare to my defence.

CIMENA.
Revenge my fathers death.

D. DIEGO.
Of him that punisht the highest insolence.

CIMENA.
Roderigo, Sir,

D. DIEGO.
Has done the office of an honest man.

CIMENA.
Has kill'd my father.

D. DIEGO.
Has reveng'd his owne.

CIMENA.
A King owes justice to his subjects bloud.

D. DIEGO.
A just revenge can feare no punishment.

KING.
Rise both of you, and speake without disturbance,
I beare a part, Cimena, in thy sufferings.
Trouble her not, when she has done, I'le heare you.

CIMENA.
My father's slaine, Sir, and these eyes have seene


His bloud gush out in bubles; that deare bloud
Which has so oft preserv'd your wals, so oft
Been fir'd to gaine you battailes, and which yet
Reakes with just anger, to have beene spilt for any
But you the King, which war durst never draw,
Roderigo in your Court has made to flow
Upon the earth, and for his first essay,
Has tane away the firme prop of your State,
Breathlesse, and pale, I came unto the place,
And found him dead! Dead! pardon Sir, my griefe,
My voyce does faile mee, let my teares speake the rest.

KING.
Daughter, take comfort, and be confident
Thou hast a King will be a Father to thee.

CIMENA.
You'ave done my miseries, Sir, too much honour.
Thither I came amaz'd, and found him dead,
He spoke nought to me, but the more to move me,
His spilt bloud wrote my duty on the dust.
Rather his worth reduc'd to that poore State,
Spoke to me through his wound and hasten'd me
To this pursuite, and to be heard the better,
Of the most just of Kings, borrow'd my voyce.
Suffer not Sir, such rage to passe unpunisht
Before your eyes, and let not heady youth,
Lave themselves in the bloud of your best Souldiers,
And brave their memories. If you permit it,
You'le have, but few that will desire to serve you,
In fine my Father's dead, I demaund justice
Rather for yours, than my owne interest,
You are ingag'd i'th'losse of such a man,
Revenge it then, and require bloud for bloud.
Sacrifice D. Diego, and his familie
To your selfe, to the people, to Castile,
What can be deare enough to satisfie
For my dead Father?



KING.
D. Diego answer.

D. DIEGO.
How happy is the man Sir?
Who parts no sooner with his strength than life,
Since to the valiant, age is most unhappy
Accompanied with weaknesse; I that have
Gotten such glory by my former actions,
Whom victory has ever wayted on
See my selfe now, for having liv'd too long
Affronted, and orecome. And that which neither
Combat, nor siege, nor ambushes could doe,
Nor all your enemies, nor mine to boot,
The pride of one man in your Court has done
Almost before your face, and sullied
The reverence, and honour of my age,
Advantag'd by his youth, and by my weaknesse,
And so Sir, these my haires which have growne white
Under my helmet, and my bloud, which has
So oft for you been spent, should ha'descended
Unto the grave with curelesse infamy.
Had I not got a Sonne to save my honour,
Who lending me his hand has slaine the Count.
If to shew courage, and a sense of wrong,
If to revonge a blow o'th face deserve
Severely to be punisht, let it fall
On me that tempest, what soer'e it be,
For the armes fault, we punish oft the head,
I am the head, Sir, he is but the arme,
And if Cimena doe complaine that he
Has slaine her Father, I must answer her,
Had I beene able, he had never done it.
Sacrifice then this head, which age will take,
The arme Sir, may hereafter doe you service.
And let Cimena's wrong be satisfied
At my owne bloud's expence, and I shall be


So farre from thinking it an uniust censure,
That dying with mine honour, I shall die
Without regret.

KING.
Th'affaire is of importance,
And merits to be heard in a full Counsell.
Don Sancho, wait upon Cimena home,
Don Diego's word shall be his surety.
Let his sonne be lookt out. I'le doe you justice.

CIMENA.
'Tis just great Sir to cut off murderers.

KING.
Daughter, take truce a little with your griefes.

CIMENA.
To give them truce, is to increase them more.