University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

Infanta. Cimena.
INFANTA.
Tell me Cimena and deal truly with me,
What makes you thus disdain to be a Queen,
Are the allurements of a Kingdome such
As they can hardly touch, lesse charm your heart?
No, I shall nere believe it, but must wonder
At your refusall: do you thank your Cid
With all his fortune, and the best effects
Of his great valour, can at any time
Impale this faire head with a Diadem?
That from the King alone you must expect
Cid is as much a subject as thy selfe,
And though he lift thy fortune to a height
As great as any subjects, yet a thousand
Will side with thee, when this my brother offers
Will set thy beauties in a point to strike
The gazers eyes with envy, or amazement.

CIM.
Madam, tis true so great a Princes love
Might take another, though it cannot me,
And the false lustre of a Soveraigne greatnesse
May dazell any fond young Virgins eyes,
But for my own direction ile take lesse
Of their ambition, more of modesty,
And truly Madam, I shall never envy
Her who enjoyes the happinesse you offer,
The pomp of Thrones seems troublesome to me,
My desires draw themselves within their compasse,
And look no higher then their proper reach:
Equality does make the perfect match,
Unequall persons render the link so weak
That love can hardly make it hold together.

IN.
I know Cimena thy great modesty,
But let it not divert thee from a good
Sent from the hand of Heaven, and a King
That power, which gave thee such rare parts, would never
They should be streightned in a narrow fortune
It knows this fore-head's destin'd for a Crown
Which to confirme, it makes a Monarch know
That nought lesse then himselfe can suite thy merit
Though Cid have heretofore made thee his Idoll.
Dost think his love's not subject unto change
And that he must continue in his absence
As a great souldier, so a faithfull lover.
Perhaps thy love may trouble him at present,
Whilst his ambition grows up with his fortune:
If ere he gain'd his glorious name of Cid,
He thought himself already worthy thee,
Dost think his heart will stay in the same bounds,
Now that all Spain, and other Nations
Admire and feare his valour? ah Cimena
Some thing perswades me that his hopes fly higher,
A throne will be the certain rock whereon
Thy so much boasted faith must finde its Tombe.

CIM.
Oh heavens, how handsomely she would surprize me
And ravish that from me her self would have!
Aside
I without doubt she loves him; and I know
She speaks more for herself then for the King:
Madam, if Roderigo leave Cimena
To give his heart unto a nobler love,
You shall perceive that she is one can suffer
With as much ease his lightnesse, as his absence.

IN.
But since thou hast the very same advantage
Serve thy selfe of it, and as his great honours
Alter his passions, so let thine Cimena
Take the same flight, and do not thinke thou shalt
For that, be calld inconstant or lesse faithfull,
Or that thy change should stick a crime upon thee,
The wils of Kings can render all things lawfull.
Besides thy fathers death may well excuse thee,
And I remember with how much constraint
Thou mad'st a promise of thy love to him
Which was no more then hope; the King has power
To cancell that, nor must thy vertue suffer
So great a stain as to preferre the man
Who kild thy father to the King.

CIM.
But Madam,
You know how strong a conflict I had in me
Before I gave consent, whilst his great love
Did lesse then my obedience, I resisted
Till in the end I saw I must obey
What the King will'd, he said, I must forget
His Crime and my revenge: your father Madam
Gave me into his hands, and since I am
His prisoner, the same bonds shall end my life
And fortune both at once.

IN.
But heare my reasons.

CIM.
To what purpose.
Should we dispute of what's resolv'd already?

IN.
Well you may think of it at better leasure.

Exit.
CIM.
Yes: and I know the object of my Choice:
If the Cids glory do put out his flame;
And that's great lustre quench the hoat of this
I shall not stay the progresse of his fortune,
Let him be on a Throne, me in my grave,
Yet if this head must ever weare a Crown
From none but Cid himselfe shall I accept it.
But what's the reason that he writes not to me?
I had some letters from him at the first,
When the same hand which was bedewd in bloud
Dry'd up my teares, but yet (alas) I feare
Least distance of our eyes estrange our hearts:
For of late (save the conquest of the Rebels)
I can heare nothing from him, he destroyes
His enemies and my hopes both at one time,
His glory makes him to forget his dutie;
But yet deare heart excuse my sad complaint
True love was never yet without some feare
Thou canst not be so generous and inconstant,
And I should feare lesse, lov'd I not so much.
Come then my soule and make no longer triall
Both of my passion and my patience:
Come to deliver me from those my doubts
Or know that here I cannot live without thee.