A monologue from the play by Carlo Goldoni

NOTE: This translation was published in 1892 by A. C. M'Clurg & Co, Chicago. It is now a public domain work and may be performed without royalties.

DE LA COTTERIE: Oh, God! I saw her weep! She is more devoted than ever! Inhuman! Unfeeling! Vile plebeian soul! Can you imagine anything worse in the world than the tears of a tender-hearted, distressed lady, who accuses me of cruelty, who makes my resolution waver, and puts to a severe trial my honour, my reputation, and my friendship? Ah! Put yourself in my place, and then, if you can, condemn my transports. My wounds, my blood, my being a prisoner of war, which prevents my promotion, the narrowness of my fortune, all appear nothing in comparison with the love which inflames my soul. The excellent principles of the young lady prevented her from assuring me that I possessed her heart, and in consequence I resolved to leave her. Ah! At the moment of taking leave, tears and sobs prevented her from speaking and they proved her love was equal to mine. My wretchedness is extreme; my resolution seems barbarous; and now, frantic with love, reason appears to desert me. What will they say if I remain after having taken my leave? If I allege I am unwell, my sadness will make it appear so. But the longer I remain, the more my love increases; and what remedy can there be for it? What hope is there for my desperate passion? How much better to meet death at once than to live in such torture!

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