_Don Diego._ Oh, heaven! my exhausted strength fails me in this
necessity!

_Count._ Thy sword is mine; but thou wouldst be too vain if this
discreditable trophy had laden my hand [i.e. if I had carried away a
trophy so discreditable]. Farewell--adieu! Cause the prince to read, in
spite of jealous feelings, for his instruction, the history of thy life.
This just punishment of impertinent language will serve as no small
embellishment for it.


Scene V.--DON DIEGO.


O rage! O despair! O inimical old age! Have I then lived so long only
for this disgrace? And have I grown grey in warlike toils, only to see
in one day so many of my laurels wither? Does my arm [i.e. my valor],
which all Spain admires and looks up to [_lit._ with respect]--[does] my
arm, which has so often saved this empire, and so often strengthened
anew the throne of its king, now [_lit._ then] betray my cause, and do
nothing for me? O cruel remembrance of my bygone glory! O work of a
lifetime [_lit._ so many days] effaced in a day! new dignity fatal to my
happiness! lofty precipice from which mine honor falls! must I see the
count triumph over your splendor, and die without vengeance, or live in
shame? Count, be now the instructor of my prince! This high rank becomes
[_lit._ admits] no man without honor, and thy jealous pride, by this
foul [_lit._ remarkable] insult, in spite of the choice of the king, has
contrived [_lit._ has known how] to render me unworthy of it. And thou,
glorious instrument of my exploits, but yet a useless ornament of an
enfeebled body numbed by age [_lit._ all of ice], thou sword, hitherto