“I would rather the maid wept than Leporello. See, ’tis the house, and behold Elvira at the window. I will speak to her--Elvira! dear Elvira!” “Who speaketh? Methinks ’tis the voice of the perjured Don Juan!” “‘Tis Juan, who prays thee to forgive him.” “My faith! Of a verity I believe she will trust him. O rare! O rare!” “Thou art a traitor, Juan.” “Nay, descend, love, that I may kiss thy tears away.” “Methinks, I shall very fairly crack with laughing. This is good. This is good, rare.” “Dear Elvira, come to me, come to me.” “She yieldeth now. By my faith, I would I had such a deft tongue i’ my head. She hath left the window.” “Friend Leporello, dost thou not admire me?” “Master, if thou comest not from heaven, of a surety I know _thy_ cradle--’tis below, master, ’tis below!” “Now remember thee of this. When she cometh out, smother her in thy arms. Speak as I speak, yet not fine like a woman. Then deftly discourse her away.” “_Good._ But if she find me out?” “Then hadst thou best scarify thyself.” “_Good._ My faith, a pretty posture mine. I will leave this master. I will leave him.” Here the luckless lady came from the house. “Nay Juan, did I ever think my sorrow would melt thy heart. Thou dost, then, repent thee of thy desertion?” “Aye, do I.” “I have sighed as the south wind sigheth all the long night through.” “Eugh.” “But thou wilt never leave me again.” “Angel, never.” “Thou wilt forever be mine.” “Eugh.” “And thou wilt never deceive me again?” “Ne--e--ver.” “Thou wilt swear.” “I swear by this kiss upon thy hand.” “Ha! ha! ho! the guard, the guard.” Thus cried Don Juan, while the unfortunate lady ran quickly away. The don was about to enter at the open door, when he stopped suddenly, as he saw Masetto come stealthily along, accompanied by some friends. For the young Zerlina’s sake he was interested. “Now, who goeth there?” “A friend; my faith, ’tis Masetto. Ah, Masetto! What, knowest thou me not?” “Why, thou art the very foul one’s servant!” “Don Juan’s; ah, ’tis a base man, Masetto; a base man. I have left him for a godly service.” “Truly? But canst thou tell me where I shall find him, for we would fain cudgel him to death?” “Good. I will help you, my master, to punish this sinner unparalleled. He is near at hand, my masters, and making love, for he hath a rare habit of making love. Go you--all. I and Masetto will follow you.” So the peasants went off stealthily on their toes, each hoping to have a hand in towelling the don. “So, Masetto, thou wilt cudgel him to the death.” “To the _very_ death; good.” “Wouldst not be satisfied with a few broken bones?” “Talk not to me of broken bones only, he shall soon know of no bones, marry.” “Thou’rt well armed, friend?”