The Cid a tragicomedy, out of French made English: and acted before their Majesties at court, and on the Cock-pit stage in Drury-lane by the servants to both their Majesties.

SCENE III.

INFANTA. CIMENA.

INFANTA.

BE not so griev'd, Cimena, dry thine eyes, Use now thy constancie in this misfortune,

Thou'lt see't cleare up after a little tempest: Thy happinesse is but clouded for a while, And some small time will make thee no great loser.

CIMENA.

What can I hope now, but continuall troubles, A storme so sudden comming o're this calme Threatens a certaine shipwracke to our loves: 'Tis past all doubt, I perish in the haven. I lov'd, was lov'd againe, our friends agreed, And I no sooner had told you the newes, But in an ill houre sprung their fatall quarrell, Which when I heard, I knew my hopes were ruin'd: Cursed ambition, honour pittilesse, Under whose tyranny the bravest soules Doe ever suffer: how many teares and sighs Must I pay for you?

INFANTA.

Thou hast no reason To feare their quarrell, which on a sudden borne, Will as soone die: there's too much noise of it To let it live. The King shall take it up, And for thy sake I'le see't shall goe no farther.

CIMENA.

This businesse will admit no composition, Th' affronts to honour never are repair'd, Wisdome or power can prevaile little here; This wound will not be heal'd, it may be cover'd, And stifled hate nourishes secret fires Within the brest, but such as burne more fiercely.

INFANTA.

But th' holy knot which shall once joyne Cimena To Roderigo, will dissolve the hatred Of both their fathers, and the bonds of love, As being more strong, will quickly stop their discord.

CIMENA.

rath e r doe desire, than hope it, Madam,

Don Diego is too haughty, and I know My father well, of what a spirit he is. I feele my teares runne, which I would retaine: What's past, torments me, and I feare the sequell.

INFANTA.

Do'st thou feare what a weake old man can doe?

CIMENA.

Roderigo is not weake.

INFANTA.

But he's too young.

CIMENA.

Valiant young men are ever very sudden.

INFANTA.

But that thou need'st not feare. He loves thee too well To anger or displease thee, one poore word Out of thy mouth, will quickly stay his heat.

CIMENA.

If he doe not obey, how great's my griefe? And if he doe, what will men say of him, That being a Gentleman, he could put up Such an affront? so that if he resist, Or else give way to his affection, I cannot but be troubled, orasham'd At his too much respect, or just deniall.

INFANTA.

Cimena's generous, and though she be Ingag'd, she cannot suffer a base thought. But if I make a prisoner of this lover Untill this businesse be tane up betwixt them, Will not your love turne into jealousie?

CIMENA.

Ah, Madam, in this case I have no such thought.

INFANTA.

Boy, looke out Roderigo, bring him hither.

BOY.

He, and the Count of Gormas

CIMENA.

Good God, I tremble!

INFANTA.

Speake.

BOY.

Went out together.

INFANTA.

Alone?

BOY.

Alone, and as it seem'd, they went to quarell.

CIMENA.

Ay me, my fear's, they 're fighting by this time.

INFANTA.

Let's spend no more time then, but goe looke um out.