The Cid by Pierre Corneille
page 26 of 77 (33%)
page 26 of 77 (33%)
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_Infanta._ Alas! what uneasiness I feel in my mind! I weep for her
sorrows, [yet still] her lover enthralls me; my calmness forsakes me, and my passion revives. That which is going to separate Rodrigo from Chimène rekindles at once my hope and my pain; and their separation, which I see with regret, infuses a secret pleasure in mine enamored soul. _Leonora._ This noble pride which reigns in your soul, does it so soon surrender to this unworthy passion? _Infanta._ Call it not unworthy, since, seated in my heart, proud and triumphant, it asserts its sway [_lit._ law] over me. Treat it with respect, since it is so dear to me. My pride struggles against it, but, in spite of myself--I hope; and my heart, imperfectly shielded against such a vain expectation, flies after a lover whom Chimène has lost. _Leonora._ Do you thus let this noble resolution give way [_lit._ fall]? And does reason in your mind thus lose its influence? _Infanta._ Ah! with how little effect do we listen to reason when the heart is assailed by a poison so delicious, and when the sick man loves his malady! We can hardly endure that any remedy should be applied to it. _Leonora._ Your hope beguiles you, your malady is pleasant to you; but, in fact, this Rodrigo is unworthy of you. _Infanta._ I know it only too well; but if my pride yields, learn how love flatters a heart which it possesses. If Rodrigo once [_or_, only] comes forth from the combat as a conqueror, if this great warrior falls |
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