Don Rodrigo. Let me die.
Chimène. Nay, leave me.
Don Rodrigo. On what art thou resolved?
Chimène. In spite of the glorious love-fires which impede [lit. trouble] my wrath, I will do my utmost to avenge my father; but, in spite of the sternness of such a cruel duty, my sole desire is to be able to accomplish nothing [against thee].
Don Rodrigo. O wondrous love [lit. miracle of love]!
Chimène. O accumulation of sorrows!
Don Rodrigo. What misfortunes and tears will our fathers cost us!
Chimène. Rodrigo, who would have believed——?
Don Rodrigo. Chimène, who would have said——?
Chimène. That our happiness was so near, and would so soon be ruined?