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A monologue from the play by Juan Ruiz de Alarcón
Diego
How can my unlucky stars
so mislead a noble heart
to such malicious judgments?
Go on, oh ingrate, oh cruel one!
It’s so subtle of you,
to deny your fickleness
by inventing faults for me!
Given that Leonor adores me,
and that don Sancho wants me
to take her hand in marriage
who is it up to? Who?
Is it not up to me?
If I loved her and just pretended
to disdain her for your sake,
what would stop me now,
when I know that you know
and that I pretend in vain?
Especially when you’ve so wronged me
in both word and deed,
that I’d be justified in changing my mind,
and even in taking my revenge.
Would I not be knocking down her door?
Would I not be fulfilling my designs?
Would I be here explaining myself to you?
Would I be hanging on your every whim?
So if I leave her and seek you out,
if I flee her and pursue you,
if I adore you and despise her,
if I beg you and resist her,
how can you not be satisfied?
What other possible crimes
am I accused of to justify
this notorious treatment?
Say that you’ve changed your mind, you traitor,
say that don Sancho is richer,
say that I am a poor wretch,
say that your love was feigned,
say that I do not deserve you;
but do not deny my devotions,
when their strength could have pierced
even a heart made of stone!
