The Cid Monologue
| The Cid Monologue by Pierre Corneille | |
| Character: | Infanta |
| Gender: | Female |
| Age (range): | ? |
| Style: | Classical |
| Length: | < 3 minutes |
Looking for a published monologue? Want to know character
history & story background? We have exactly what you need! Join
Our Community today and gain access to dozens of monologues
for auditions, classes, competitions, workshops, and more!
Click To See What The
Buzz Is About... |
|
INFANTA: Do I remember whose daughter I am? Of course. I remember it so well, that I would shed my blood rather than degrade my rank. I might assuredly answer to thee, that, in noble souls, worth alone ought to arouse passions; and, if my love sought to excuse itself, a thousand famous examples might sanction it. But I will not follow these--where my honor is concerned, the captivation of my feelings does not abate my courage, and I say to myself always, that, being the daughter of a king, all other than a monarch is unworthy of me. When I saw that my heart could not protect itself, I myself gave away that which I did not dare to take; and I put, in place of myself, Chimène in its fetters, and I kindled their passions in order to extinguish my own. Be then no longer surprised if my troubled soul with impatience awaits their bridal; thou seest that my happiness this day depends on it. If love lives by hope, it perishes with it; it is a fire which becomes extinguished for want of fuel; and, in spite of the severity of my sad lot, if Chimène ever has Rodrigo for a husband, my hope is dead and my spirit is healed. Meanwhile, I endure an incredible torture; even up to this bridal, Rodrigo is dear to me; I strive to lose him, and I lose him with regret, and hence my secret anxiety derives its origin. I see with sorrow that love compels me to utter sighs for that which I must disdain. I feel my spirit divided into two portions; if my courage is high, my heart is inflamed. This bridal is fatal to me, I fear it, and I desire it; I dare not hope from it only an incomplete joy; my honor and my love have for me such attractions, that I die whether it be accomplished, or whether it be not accomplished.
Credits: Reprinted from The Cid. Trans. Roscoe Mongan. New York: Hinds & Noble, 1896.
