conqueror, from a combat of which Chimène is the reward. Adieu; this
thoughtlessly uttered [_lit._ let slip] word causes me to blush for
shame!

[_Exit Chimène._]

_Don Rodrigo._ Where is the foe I could not now subdue? Come forth,
[warriors] of Navarre, Morocco, and Castile! and all the heroes that
Spain has produced; unite together and form an army, to contend against
one hand thus nerved [to action]. Unite all your efforts against a hope
so sweet--you have too little power to succeed in destroying it!


Scene II.--THE INFANTA.


Shall I listen to thee still, pride of my birth, that makest a crime out
of my passions? Shall I listen to thee, love, whose delicious power
causes my desires to rebel against this proud tyrant? Poor princess! to
which of the two oughtest thou to yield obedience? Rodrigo, thy valor
renders thee worthy of me; but although thou art valiant, thou art not
the son of a king.

Pitiless fate, whose severity separates my glory and my desires! Is it
decreed [_lit._ said], that the choice of [a warrior of] such rare merit
should cost my passion such great anguish? O heaven! for how many
sorrows [_lit._ sighs] must my heart prepare itself, if, after such a
long, painful struggle, it never succeeds in either extinguishing the
love, or accepting the lover!