Don Garcia of Navarre; Or, the Jealous Prince. A Heroic Comedy in Five Acts. — John Shaqi
Don Garcia of Navarre; Or, the Jealous Prince. A Heroic Comedy in Five Acts.Molière
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Don Garcia of Navarre; Or, the Jealous Prince. A Heroic Comedy in Five Acts.
Molière
French drama -- 17th century -- Translations into English; Molière, 1622-1673 -- Translations into English
INEZ. Give me leave, my Lord, to blame you for complaining, because the
Princess has deeply felt your misfortunes; this very joy at which you
murmur, arises solely from the happiness that is in store for you. She
rejoices in a success which has favoured your heart's desire, and has
discovered that your rival is her brother. Yes, Don Alphonso, whose name
has been so bruited about, is her brother; this great secret has just
now been told to her.
ALPH. My heart, thank Heaven, after a long torture, has all that it can
desire, and deprives you of nothing, my Lord. I am so much the happier,
because I am able to forward your love.
GARC. Alas! my Lord, I am overwhelmed by your goodness, which
condescends to respond to my dearest wishes. Heaven has averted the blow
that I feared; any other man but myself would think himself happy. But
the fortunate discovery of this favourable secret, proves me to be
culpable towards her I adore; I have again succumbed to these wretched
suspicions, against which I have been so often warned, and in vain;
through them my love has become hateful, and I ought to despair of ever
being happy. Yes, Donna Elvira has but too good reason to hate me; I
know I am unworthy of pardon; and whatever success fortune may give me,
death, death alone, is all that I can expect.
ELV. No, no, Prince, your submissive attitude brings more tender
feelings into my heart; I feel that the oath I took is no longer binding
on me; your complaints, your respect, your grief has moved me to
compassion; I see an excess of love in all your actions, and your malady
deserves to be pitied. Since Heaven is the cause of your faults, some
indulgence ought to be allowed to them; in one word, jealous or not
jealous, my King will have no compulsion to employ when he gives me to
you.
GARC. Heaven! enable me to bear the excess of joy which this confession
produces.
ALPH. I trust, my Lord, that after all our useless dissensions, this
marriage may forever unite our hearts and kingdoms. But time presses,
and Leon expects us; let us go therefore, and, by our presence and
watchfulness give the last blow to the tyrant's party.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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