Chimene. Thou art going to death!

Don Rodrigo. I speed to those happy moments which will deliver my life from your (feelings of) resentment.

Chimene. Thou art going to death!  Is Don Sancho, then, so formidable, that he can inspire terror in this invincible heart?  What has rendered thee so weak? or what renders him so strong?  Does Rodrigo go to fight, and believe himself already slain [lit. dead]?  He who has not feared the Moors nor my father, goes to fight Don Sancho, and already despairs?  Thus, then, thy courage lowers itself in the [hour of] need.

Don Rodrigo. I speed [lit. I run] to my punishment, and not to the combat; and, since you seek my death, my faithful ardor will readily deprive me of the desire of defending my life.  I have always the same courage, but I have not the [strong] arm, when it is needed, to preserve that which does not please you; and already this night would have been fatal to me, if I had fought for my own private wrong; but, defending my king, his people, and my country, by carelessly defending myself, I should have betrayed them.  My high-born spirit does not hate life so much as to wish to depart from it by perfidy, now that it regards my interests only.  You demand my death—­I accept its decree.  Your resentment chose the hand of another; I was unworthy [lit. I did not deserve] to die by yours.  They shall not see me repel its blows; I owe more respect to him [the champion] who fights for you; and delighted to think that it is from you these [blows] proceed—­since it is your honor that his arms sustain—­I shall present to him my unprotected [or, defenceless] breast, worshipping through his hand thine that destroys me.

Chimene. If the just vehemence of a sad [sense of] duty, which causes me, in spite of myself, to follow after thy valiant life, prescribes to thy love a law so severe, that it surrenders thee without defence to him who combats for me, in this infatuation [lit. blindness], lose not the recollection, that, with thy life, thine honor is tarnished, and that, in whatever renown Rodrigo may have lived, when men shall know him to be dead, they will believe him conquered.  Thine honor is dearer to thee than I am dear, since it steeps thine hands in the blood of my father, and causes thee to renounce, in spite of thy love, the sweet hope of gaining me.  I see thee, however, pay such little regard to it [honor], that, without fighting, thou wishest to be overcome.  What inconsistency [lit. unequality] mars thy valor!  Why hast thou it [that valor] no more? or why didst thou possess it [formerly]?  What! art thou valiant only to do me an injury?  Unless it be to offend [or, injure] me, hast thou no courage at all?  And dost thou treat my father with such rigor [i.e. so far disparage the memory of my father], that, after having conquered him, thou wilt endure a conqueror?  Go! without wishing to die, leave me to pursue thee, and defend thine honor, if thou wilt no longer live.