_Count._ Thy sword is mine; but thou wouldst be too vain if this discreditable trophy had laden my hand [i.e. if I had carried away a trophy so discreditable]. Farewell--adieu! Cause the prince to read, in spite of jealous feelings, for his instruction, the history of thy life. This just punishment of impertinent language will serve as no small embellishment for it. Scene V.--DON DIEGO. O rage! O despair! O inimical old age! Have I then lived so long only for this disgrace? And have I grown grey in warlike toils, only to see in one day so many of my laurels wither? Does my arm [i.e. my valor], which all Spain admires and looks up to [_lit._ with respect]--[does] my arm, which has so often saved this empire, and so often strengthened anew the throne of its king, now [_lit._ then] betray my cause, and do nothing for me? O cruel remembrance of my bygone glory! O work of a lifetime [_lit._ so many days] effaced in a day! new dignity fatal to my happiness! lofty precipice from which mine honor falls! must I see the count triumph over your splendor, and die without vengeance, or live in shame? Count, be now the instructor of my prince! This high rank becomes [_lit._ admits] no man without honor, and thy jealous pride, by this foul [_lit._ remarkable] insult, in spite of the choice of the king, has contrived [_lit._ has known how] to render me unworthy of it. And thou, glorious instrument of my exploits, but yet a useless ornament of an enfeebled body numbed by age [_lit._ all of ice], thou sword, hitherto to be feared, and which in this insult has served me for show, and not for defence, go, abandon henceforth the most dishonored [_lit._ the last] of his race; pass, to avenge me, into better hands! Scene VI.--DON DIEGO and DON RODRIGO. _Don Diego._ Rodrigo, hast thou courage [_lit._ a heart]? _Don Rodrigo._ Any other than my father would have found that out instantly. _Don Diego._ Welcome wrath! worthy resentment, most pleasing to my grief! I recognize my blood in this noble rage; my youth revives in this ardor so prompt. Come, my son, come, my blood, come to retrieve my shame--come to avenge me! _Don Rodrigo._ Of what? _Don Diego._ Of an insult so cruel that it deals a deadly stroke against the honor of us both--of a blow! The insolent [man] would have lost his life for it, but my age deceived my noble ambition; and this sword, which my arm can no longer wield, I give up to thine, to avenge and punish. Go against this presumptuous man, and prove thy valor: it is only in blood that one can wash away such an insult; die or slay. Moreover, not to deceive thee, I give thee to fight a formidable antagonist [_lit._ a man to be feared], I have seen him entirely covered with blood and dust, carrying everywhere dismay through an entire army. I have seen by his valor a hundred squadrons broken; and, to tell thee still something more--more than brave soldier, more than great leader, he is---- _Don Rodrigo._ Pray, finish.