horror! I found him, I have already said, bereft of life; his breast was
pierced [_lit._ open], and his blood upon the [surrounding] dust
dictated [_lit._ wrote] my duty; or rather his valor, reduced to this
condition, spoke to me through his wound, and urged me to claim redress;
and to make itself heard by the most just of kings, by these sad lips,
it borrowed my voice. Sire, do not permit that, under your sway, such
license should reign before your [very] eyes; that the most valiant with
impunity should be exposed to the thrusts of rashness; that a
presumptuous youth should triumph over their glory, should imbrue
himself with their blood, and scoff at their memory! If the valiant
warrior who has just been torn from you be not avenged, the ardor for
serving you becomes extinguished. In fine, my father is dead, and I
demand vengeance more for your interest than for my consolation. You are
a loser in the death of a man of his position. Avenge it by another's,
and [have] blood for blood! Sacrifice [the victim] not to me, but to
your crown, to your greatness, to yourself! Sacrifice, I say, sire, to
the good of the state, all those whom such a daring deed would inflate
with pride.

_Don Fernando._ Don Diego, reply.

_Don Diego._ How worthy of envy is he who, in losing [life's] vigor,
loses life also! And how a long life brings to nobly minded men, at the
close of their career, an unhappy destiny! I, whose long labors have
gained such great renown--I, whom hitherto everywhere victory has
followed--I see myself to-day, in consequence of having lived too long,
receiving an insult, and living vanquished. That which never battle,
siege, or ambuscade could [do]--that which Arragon or Granada never
could [effect], nor all your enemies, nor all my jealous [rivals], the
Count has done in your palace, almost before your eyes, [being] jealous