THE CID
A monologue from the
play by Pierre
Corneille
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NOTE: This monologue is reprinted
from The Cid. Trans. Roscoe Mongan. New York: Hinds &
Noble, 1896. |
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INFANTA: Do I remember whose daughter I am? Of course.
I remember it so well, that I would shed my blood rather than
degrade my rank. I might assuredly answer to thee, that, in noble
souls, worth alone ought to arouse passions; and, if my love
sought to excuse itself, a thousand famous examples might sanction
it. But I will not follow these--where my honor is concerned,
the captivation of my feelings does not abate my courage, and
I say to myself always, that, being the daughter of a king, all
other than a monarch is unworthy of me. When I saw that my heart
could not protect itself, I myself gave away that which I did
not dare to take; and I put, in place of myself, Chimène
in its fetters, and I kindled their passions in order to extinguish
my own. Be then no longer surprised if my troubled soul with
impatience awaits their bridal; thou seest that my happiness
this day depends on it. If love lives by hope, it perishes with
it; it is a fire which becomes extinguished for want of fuel;
and, in spite of the severity of my sad lot, if Chimène
ever has Rodrigo for a husband, my hope is dead and my spirit
is healed. Meanwhile, I endure an incredible torture; even up
to this bridal, Rodrigo is dear to me; I strive to lose him,
and I lose him with regret, and hence my secret anxiety derives
its origin. I see with sorrow that love compels me to utter sighs
for that which I must disdain. I feel my spirit divided into
two portions; if my courage is high, my heart is inflamed. This
bridal is fatal to me, I fear it, and I desire it; I dare not
hope from it only an incomplete joy; my honor and my love have
for me such attractions, that I die whether it be accomplished,
or whether it be not accomplished.
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MONOLOGUES BY PIERRE CORNEILLE |
