_Diego._ (_Yawning_) Take heed what you are about, or you will soon find that it is dark enough. (_He turns on the other side, mutters some inarticulate words, and falls asleep again._) _Alonzo._ If that fellow have not slept, or eaten his fill, he is like a watch not wound up. (_He shakes Don Juan_) Velasquez, the day begins to break! _Juan._ (_Raising himself up, and looking about_) Well!—and what of that? _Alonzo._ Will you not rise and enjoy so fine a morning? _Juan._ Write an Ode upon the Morning, if it be so very fine; but prithee let me sleep quietly. (_He lies down again._) _Alonzo._ Have you forgotten that we may soon expect Cora? _Juan._ That is no concern of mine, she does not come to see me. _Alonzo._ And don’t you think it worth while to unbar your eyes a few minutes earlier, to see an angel? _Juan._ I will dream of her. (_He falls asleep._) _Alonzo._ There they lie and sleep as tho’ in mockery of the troubles of my soul. Ah, it is only the unembarrassed mind which can thus recruit itself by inactivity. Yes, I perceive that the more man throws off his rational nature, and assimilates himself with the brute, who looks to sense alone for his enjoyments, the happier is his lot.—Happier?—Most certainly so; in his own eyes, at least, if not in the eyes of wisdom; and what more can be required? (_A clapping of hands is heard behind the walls_) But hark?—she comes!—Oh, all that I have said of sensual delight is false! One moment, when the soul partakes of real transport, outweighs whole hours of mere corporeal pleasure. (_He hastens to meet Cora._) SCENE II.—_CORA enters and springs into ALONZO’S Arms._ _Cora._ Here I am, dearest Alonzo!—But you have deprived Cora of an expected pleasure.—I hoped to have found you buried in sleep—I meant to have concealed myself behind a tree, to have scattered leaves over you, and then reproved you as a sluggard.—Do you not hear me, Alonzo, or are you in a waking dream?—else, when your arm is thrown around my neck, how can you stand with eyes thus fixed, and think of any thing besides your Cora? _Alonzo._ Amiable creature! suspect me not unjustly!—Cora alone rules in my heart, as one sun alone rules in the heavens.—Yet I cannot cease to think of the discovery made this night!—My peace! my peace of mind is lost!—Conscience,—a thousand horrible images.—Death in its most hideous form, with cold and outstretched arms, tearing Cora from my heart,—these, these are the ideas which haunt me incessantly.