 | The Cid |  |
SCENE IV.
D. SANCHO. CIMENA. ELVIRA.D. SANCHO.
At your feet, Madame, I present this sword.
CIMENA.
What that yet reaking with Roderigo's bloud?
Traytor, how dar'st thou come into my sight,
When thou hast ravish'd from me, all I lov'd?
Shine now at full my love, thou need'st not feare,
My Father's satisfi'd. One onely blow,
Has to mine honour giv'n security,
To my soule despaire, to my love liberty.
D. SANCHO.
Heare me with better temper.
CIMENA.
Dar'st thou yet
Which I doe most adore. Goe, thou hast slaine him
Perfidiously, for otherwise that man
Could never fall by such a hand as thine.
ELVIRA.
But heare him, Madame.
CIMENA.
What wouldst thou have me heare?
Can I doubt, when my eyes are satisfied,
I have obtain'd the mischiefe which I sought for,
And my just suit has had too good successe,
Pardon deare love, its bloudy cruelty.
Thinke though a lover, yet I was a daughter.
If on thy bloud I have reveng'd my Father.
For thy revenge I will exhaust my owne,
My soule has nothing now, that should retaine it,
It shall goe after thine, to aske it pardon.
And thou that think'st t'obtaine me by his death,
Disloyall minister of my cruell fate,
Hope nothing at my hands. Thou hast done me
No service, onely hastned on my death.
D. SANCHO.
'Tis a strange passion will not give me hearing.
CIMENA.
What would'st thou have me heare thee, whilst with boasting
Thou painest out to me my owne fatall crime,
And his misfortunes, that thy cruell story
May kill me in thy sight. No, I can dye
Without thy help. My soule can find out death,
Instructed by no ayd but her owne mischiefes.
CIMENA.
Sir, I need not now dissemble any longer
What never art of mine could hide from you
I lov'd, you know, yet to revenge my Father
I would proscribe the head I held so deare,
By that your Majesty might easily see,
I meant my love should give place to my duty.
In fine Roderigoe's dead. His death has chang'd
Her, who was once his mortall enemy
To an afflicted lover. That revenge
I to my Father ought, and to my love
These teares which now I shed; Don Sancho has
In taking of my part quite ruin'd me,
And yet for doing so I'me made his prize.
Sir, if kind pitty ever mov'd a King,
Now of your grace revoke this cruell law,
Though he have slaine the man I lov'd so dearely,
I'le give him all I have for his reward,
So he will leave me to my selfe, and that
I may bewaile (the time I have to live)
My Father, and my Lover, in a Cloister.
D. DIEGO.
Now you perceive she loves, Sir, and not thinkes
'Tis such a crime t'avow her lawfull love.
KING.
Sweet heart mistake not, Roderigo lives.
D. SANCHO.
Sir, not by me, but by her too much heat
Shee was deceiv'd: For had she given me leave;
I should have told her, that her noble Lover,
When he disarm'd me, bade me banish feare,
For that (sai'd he) I'de rather leave the conquest
Uncertaine, than I'de spill a drop of bloud
That's ventur'd for Cimena, but since I
Am by my duty call'd to attend the King,
Goe you and entertaine her in my stead,
And at her feet offer your life and sword.
Which when I came to doe, the sword deceiv'd her,
With which seeing me returne, she thought that I
Had beene the Victor. Presently her anger
Betray'd her love, with such impatience
That I had not a minutes audience.
For my part though I am a vanquish'd man,
And though the interest of my love be great
Yet I repute my selfe in this my losse
To be a gainer, loving my distresse
Which brings so faire a flame, so good successe.
KING.
You must not be asham'd of such a love
Cimena, or seeke meanes to disavow it,
Your honour's disingag'd, your duty quitted,
Your Father satisfied; what would you more?
Must you still put Roderigo in new danger,
You see heaven otherwise disposes of him.
And since that it has done so much for him,
Doe you too something for your selfe, and take
Him for your husband that I offer you,
And whom I know you love.
INFANTA.
Come Cimena,
Drye thy eyes: And receive with a glad heart
This noble Conquerour, from thy Princesse's hand.
RODERIGO.
Great Sir, be not offended if before you,
The duty which I owe to love, doe cast me
Here at her feet. I come not to demand
The prize which I have won, but once more yet
To offer you my life. My love shall not
Or plead the combats law, or the Kings will,
If all that's done cannot appease your anger,
Tell me what meanes is left to satisfie.
Must I encounter yet a thousand Rivals,
Travaile from one end of the Earth to th'other
Or force a Camp my selfe, or rout an Army,
If at length I may expiate my crime,
I shall attempt all this: But if your honour
Be still inexorable, and nothing can
I cast it at your feet. Take it your selfe,
And arme no other hand for your revenge,
Since none but yours can do't. Yet let my death
Be all my punishment, and let me not
Be banish'd from your memory, but say
If any time you call to mind my paine
Had he not lov'd me, he had not been slaine,
CIMENA.
Rise Roderigo. Sir, I must needs say
My love has shew'd it selfe too much, for me
Now to deny it. Roderigo has
Such vertues, as I know not how to hate.
And you're my King. I cannot but obey you,
But is there here any appearance of
A Marriage, if it be, it is a sad one,
That one day should begin, and end my mourning,
That having lay'd my Father in his grave,
I should lay Roderigo in my bed:
That were to hold intelligence with's murtherer,
And soyle my honour with eternall shame.
KING.
Time often makes that lawfull, which at present
Seemes not to be so. Roderigo, has won thee,
And his thou must be. But though his valour
Have made you his, yet I should doe you wrong
So soone to give him the reward he fought for.
Take if you will a yeare, to end your mourning.
In the meane time Roderigo shall take armes,
And having under his command my Army,
Shall carry back the War unto the Moores
Which they brought hither, that they all may tremble
At this brave name of CID, which they have given thee
They've call'd thee Lord already, and they would
Make thee their King. But let not (Roderigo)
Returne, if possible, more worthy of her,
And let thy deeds set such a price upon thee,
That she may court thy Marriage as an honour.
RODERIGO.
For my Cimena, Sir, and for your service,
What can you bid me doe I won't accomplish?
And though I hardly can endure her absence,
Yet are the hopes you give sufficient happinesse.
KING.
Rely upon thy valour and my promise,
And now thou hast thy Mistresse heart already,
This point of honour (which is the last thing)
Let time o're come, thy valour, and thy King.
| The Cid | |