Don Rodrigo. Pray, finish.
Don Diego. The father of Chimène.
Don Rodrigo. The——
Don Diego. Do not reply; I know thy love. But he who lives dishonored is unworthy of life; the dearer the offender the greater the offence. In short, thou knowest the insult, and thou holdest [in thy grasp the means of] vengeance. I say no more to thee. Avenge me, avenge thyself! Show thyself a son worthy of a father such as I [am]. Overwhelmed by misfortunes to which destiny reduces me, I go to deplore them. Go, run, fly, and avenge us!
Scene VII.—Don Rodrigo.
Pierced even to the depth [or, bottom of the heart] by a blow unexpected as well as deadly, pitiable avenger of a just quarrel and unfortunate object of an unjust severity, I remain motionless, and my dejected soul yields to the blow which is slaying me. So near seeing my love requited! O heaven, the strange pang [or, difficulty]! In this insult my father is the person aggrieved, and the aggressor is the father of Chimène!
What fierce conflicts [of feelings] I experience! My love is engaged [lit. interests itself] against my own honor. I must avenge a father and lose a mistress. The one stimulates my courage, the other restrains my arm. Reduced to the sad choice of either betraying my love or of living as a degraded [man], on both sides my situation is wretched [lit. evil is infinite]. O heaven, the strange pang [or, difficulty]! Must I leave an insult unavenged? Must I punish the father of Chimène?
Father, mistress, honor, love—noble and severe restraint—a bondage still to be beloved [lit. beloved tyranny], all my pleasures are dead, or my glory is sullied. The one renders me unhappy; the other unworthy of life. Dear and cruel hope of a soul noble but still enamored, worthy enemy of my greatest happiness, thou sword which causest my painful anxiety, hast thou been given to me to avenge my honor? Hast thou been given to me to lose Chimène?
It is better to rush [lit. run] to death. I owe i.e. my father's] contempt by not avenging myself. To my sweetest hope the one [alternative] renders me unfaithful, and the other [alternative] renders me unworthy of her. My misfortune increases by seeking a remedy [lit. by wishing to cure it]. All [supposed reliefs] redoubles my woes. Come then, my soul [or, beloved sword], and, since I must die, let us die, at least, without offending Chimène!
To die without obtaining satisfaction! To seek a death so fatal to my fame! To endure that Spain should impute to my memory [the fact] of having badly maintained the honor of my house! To respect a love of which my distracted soul already sees the certain loss. Let us no more listen to this insidious thought, which serves only to pain me [or, contributes only to my painful position]. Come, mine arm [or, sword], let us save honor, at least, since, after all, we must lose Chimène.