eeing myself
forgotten by thee that have led me. It was thy will to make me thine, and
thou didst so follow thy will, that now, even though thou repentest, thou
canst not help being mine. Bethink thee, my lord, the unsurpassable
affection I bear thee may compensate for the beauty and noble birth for
which thou wouldst desert me. Thou canst not be the fair Luscinda's
because thou art mine, nor can she be thine because she is Cardenio's;
and it will be easier, remember, to bend thy will to love one who adores
thee, than to lead one to love thee who abhors thee now. Thou didst
address thyself to my simplicity, thou didst lay siege to my virtue, thou
wert not ignorant of my station, well dost thou know how I yielded wholly
to thy will; there is no ground or reason for thee to plead deception,
and if it be so, as it is, and if thou art a Christian as thou art a
gentleman, why dost thou by such subterfuges put off making me as happy
at last as thou didst at first? And if thou wilt not have me for what I
am, thy true and lawful wife, at least take and accept me as thy slave,
for so long as I am thine I will count myself happy and fortunate. Do not
by deserting me let my shame become the talk of the gossips in the
streets; make not the old age of my parents miserable; for the loyal
services they as faithful vassals have ever rendered thine are not
deserving of such a return; and if thou thinkest it will debase thy blood
to mingle it with mine, reflect that there is little or no nobility in
the world that has not travelled the same road, and that in illustrious
lineages it is not the woman's blood that is of account; and, moreover,
that true nobility consists in virtue, and if thou art wanting in that,
refusing me what in justice thou owest me, then even I have higher claims
to nobility than thine. To make an end, senor, these are my last words to
thee: whether thou wilt, or wilt not, I am thy wife; witness thy words,
which must not and ought not to be false, if thou dost pride thyself on
that for want of which thou scornest me; witness the pledge which thou
didst give me, and witness Heaven, which thou thyself didst call to
witness the promise thou hadst made me; and if all this fail, thy own
conscience will not fail to lift up its silent voice in the midst of all
thy gaiety, and vindicate the truth of what I say and mar thy highest
pleasure and enjoyment."
All this and more the injured Dorothea delivered with such earnest
fee
|