The brilliancy of my noble deeds was my only recommendation (lit. support).

Count. Let us speak better of it (i.e. more plainly): the king does honor to your age.

Don Diego. The king, when he does it (i.e. that honor), gives it (lit. measures it) to courage.

Count. And for that reason this honor was due only to me (lit. my arm).

Don Diego. He who has not been able to obtain it did not deserve it.

Count. Did not deserve it? I!

Don Diego. You.

Count. Thy impudence, rash old man, shall have its recompense. (He gives him a slap on the face.) Don Diego (drawing his sword (lit. putting the sword in his hand)). Finish (this outrage), and take my life after such an insult, the first for which my race has ever had cause to blush (lit. has seen its brow grow red).

Count. And what do you think you can do, weak us you are (lit. with such feebleness)?

Don Diego. Oh, heaven! my exhausted strength fails me in this necessity!

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.