_Diego._ I must beg leave to observe, Sir, that the night is devoted to rest, and even if the man himself be not allowed to sleep, his internal courage, commonly takes the liberty of enjoying a comfortable nap. My fortitude always goes to bed with the sun. _Juan._ (_Going up to him earnestly_) Friend Diego, we will awaken it with some hearty blows. _Diego._ (_Shrinking away from him_) Oh it is easily awakened: it does not sleep very soundly. _Juan._ Go, then, fool!—(_He thrusts him off on one side, and goes off himself on the other._) SCENE VI.—_ALONZO springs over the Ruins of the Wall, and then reaches his Hand to CORA, who follows him._ _Alonzo._ (_As he assists her_) Only one little jump, dear Cora!—throw yourself boldly into my arms!—Here will you find a secret and retired spot, formed for love, and guarded by friends. This is not so wide and waste a scene as your garden, in which, barren as it is of all shade, the treacherous moon betrays every form that ventures within its circuit. (_He presses her to his bosom_) At length I have thee in my arms again. _Cora._ (_Returning his embrace_) And I have thee again in mine. _Alonzo._ Ah! it is now three long weeks—— _Cora._ Only three weeks? _Alonzo._ Months to love. _Cora._ Years to my heart. _Alonzo._ Every evening at twilight has poor Alonzo wandered hither, and listened in anxious expectation of the signal which might summon him to a night of transport. _Cora._ And every evening has Cora wept because she dared not meet Alonzo. _Alonzo._ You have not been ill, I hope. _Cora._ Ah! I am always ill when I am not with you. _Alonzo._ Say, dearest Cora, what has prevented our meeting?—You promised that I should sooner—— _Cora._ Did I _promise_?—That was not right, as I could only hope that it might be sooner; but love always adds hopes to its wishes, and too soon begins to consider those hopes as certainties. It does not often fall to my lot to take the nightly service in the temple, but I relied upon having the turn of one of my companions who was ill, and whose place I had offered to supply. She, however, recovered; and, instead of the promised happiness, I had only her thanks for my intentions. Poor Cora was heartily vexed at this disappointment, and her sleepless nights appeared so tedious. _Alonzo._ Alas! I have also been a stranger to rest. The dews of morning found me under these trees, while my cloaths were still damp with the dews of the past evening, and my limbs still shivered with the cold of midnight. Beneath yon palm-tree have I stood, night after night, with my eyes fixed upon your temple; and often, as I have seen a form wander backwards and forwards, where glimmers the eternal lamp, I have pleased myself with thinking that it might be Cora’s.