ACT II
Scene I.—A room in Don Juan’s house at Barcelona: he is discovered painting Serafina. It gradually grows dusk.
Juan. Are you not wearied sitting?
Serafina. Surely not
Till you be wearied painting.
Juan. Oh, so much
As I have wish’d to have that divine face
Painted, and by myself, I now begin
To wish I had not wish’d it.
Ser. But why so?
Juan. Because I must be worsted in the trial
I have brought on myself.
Ser. You to despair,
Who never are outdone but by yourself!
Juan. Even so.
Ser. But why so?
Juan. Shall I tell you why?
Painters, you know, (just turn your head a little,)
Are nature’s apes, whose uglier semblances,
Made up of disproportion and excess,
Like apes, they easily can imitate:
But whose more gracious aspect, the result
Of subtlest symmetries, they only outrage,
Turning true beauty into caricature.
The perfecter her beauty, the more complex
And hard to follow; but her perfection
Impossible.
Ser. That I dare say is true,
But surely not in point with me, whose face
Is surely far from perfect.
Juan. Far indeed
From what is perfect call’d, but far beyond,
Not short of it; so that indeed my reason
Was none at all.
Ser. Well now then the true reason
Of your disgust.
Juan. Yet scarcely my disgust,
When you continue still the cause of it.
Well then, to take the matter up again—
The object of this act, (pray, look at me,
And do not laugh, Serafina,) is to seize
Those subtlest symmetries that, as I said,
Are subtlest in the loveliest; and though
It has been half the study of my life
To recognise and represent true beauty,
I had not dreamt of such excess of it
As yours; nor can I, when before my eyes,
Take the clear image in my trembling soul;
And therefore if that face of yours exceed
Imagination, and imagination
(As it must do) the pencil; then my picture
Can be but the poor shadow of a shade.
Besides,—
Ser. Can there be any thing besides?
Juan. ’Tis said that fire and light, and air and snow,
Cannot be painted; how much less a face
Where they are so distinct, yet so compounded,
As needs must drive the artist to despair!
I’ll give it up.——(Throws away his brushes, etc.)
The light begins to fail too.
And Serafina, pray remember this,
If, tempted ever by your loveliness,
And fresh presumption that forgets defeat,
I’d have you sit again, allow me not,—
It does but vex me.
Ser. Nay, if it do that
I will not, Juan, or let me die for it,—
Come, there’s an oath upon ’t.
Juan. A proper curse
On that rebellious face.
Enter Leonelo.
Leonelo. And here comes in a story:—
A man got suddenly deaf, and seeing the people about him moving their lips, quoth he, ‘What the devil makes you all dumb?’ never thinking for a moment the fault might be in himself. So it is with you, who lay the blame on a face that all the world is praising, and not on your own want of skill to paint it.
Juan. Not a very apt illustration, Leonelo, as you would admit if you heard what I was saying before you came in. But, whose soever the fault, I am the sufferer. I will no more of it, however. Come, I will abroad.
Ser. Whither, my lord?
Juan. Down to the pier, with the sea and the fresh air, to dispel my vexation.
Ser. By quitting me?
Juan. I might indeed say so, since the sight of you is the perpetual trophy of my defeat. But what if leave you in order to return with a double zest?
Ser. Nay, nay, with no such pretty speeches hope to delude me; I know what it is. The carnival with its fair masks.
Juan. A mask abroad when I have that face at home!
Ser. Nay, nay, I know you.
Juan. Better than I do myself?
Ser. What wife does not?
Leon. Just so. A German and the priest of his village coming to high words one day, because the man blew his swine’s horn under the priest’s window, the priest calls out in a rage, ‘I’ll denounce your horns to the parish, I will!’ which the man’s wife overhearing in the scullery, she cries out, ‘Halloa, neighbour, here is the priest revealing my confession!’
Ser. What impertinence, Leonelo!
Leon. Very well then, listen to this; a certain man in Barcelona had five or six children, and one day—
Juan. Peace, foolish fellow.
Leon. Those poor children will never get the meat well into their mouths.
Juan. Farewell, my love, awhile.
[Exeunt Juan and Leonelo.
Ser. Farewell, my lord.
Thou little wicked Cupid,
I am amused to find how by degrees
The wound your arrows in my bosom made,
And made to run so fast with tears, is healing.
Yea, how those very arrows and the bow
That did such mischief, being snapt asunder—
Thyself art tamed to a good household child.
Enter Flora, out of breath.
Flora. O madam!
Ser. Well, Flora, what now?
Flora. O madam, there is a man down-stairs!
Ser. Well?
Flora. Drest sailor-like.
Ser. Well?
Flora. He will not go away unless I give this letter into your hands.
Ser. Into my hands? from whom?
Flora. From the lady Porcia he says, madam.
Ser. From Porcia, well, and what frightens you?
Flora. Nothing, madam, and yet—
Ser. And yet there is something.
Flora. O, my lady, if this should be Don Alvaro!
Ser. Don Alvaro! what makes you think that?
Flora. I am sure it is he.
Ser. But did you tell him you knew him?
Flora. I could not help, madam, in my surprise.
Ser. And what said he then?
Flora. That I must tell you he was here.
Ser. Alvaro!—
Flora, go back, tell him you dared not tell me,
Fearful of my rebuke, and say beside,
As of your own advice, that it is fit,
Both for himself and me,
That he depart immediately.
Flora. Yes, madam.
As she is going, enter Alvaro, as a Sailor.
Alvaro. No need. Seeing Don Juan leave his house,
I have made bold to enter, and have heard
What Flora need not to repeat.
Ser. Nay, sir,
Rather it seems as if you had not heard;
Seeing the most emphatic errand was
To bid you hence.
Alv. So might it seem perhaps,
Inexorable beauty: but you know
How one delinquency another breeds:
And having come so far, and thus disguised,
Only to worship at your shrine, Serafina,
(I dare not talk of love,) I do beseech you
Do not so frown at my temerity,
As to reject the homage that it brings.
Ser. Don Alvaro,
If thus far I have listen’d, think it not
Warrant of further importunity.
I could not help it—’tis with dread and terror
That I have heard thus much; I now beseech you,
Since you profess you came to honour me,
Show that you did so truly by an act
That shall become your honour well as mine.
Alv. Speak, Serafina.
Ser. Leave me so at once,
And without further parley,
That I may be assured you are assured
That lapse of time, my duty as a wife,
My husband’s love for me, and mine for him,
My station and my name, all have so changed me,
That winds and waves might sooner overturn
Not the oak only,
But the eternal rock on which it grows,
Than you my heart, though sea and sky themselves
Join’d in the tempest of your sighs and tears.
Alv. But what if I remember other times
When Serafina was no stubborn oak,
Resisting wind and wave, but a fair flower
That open’d to the sun of early love,
And follow’d him along the golden day:
No barren heartless rock,
But a fair temple in whose sanctuary
Love was the idol, daily and nightly fed
With sacrifice of one whole human heart.
Ser. I do not say ’twas not so;
But, sir, to carry back the metaphor
Your ingenuity has turn’d against me,
That tender flower, transplanted it may be
To other skies and soil, might in good time
Strike down such roots and strengthen such a stem
As were not to be shook: the temple, too,
Though seeming slight to look on, being yet
Of nature’s fundamental marble built,
When once that foolish idol was dethroned,
And the true God set up into his place,
Might stand unscathed in sanctity and worship,
For ages and for ages.
Alv. Serafina,
Why talk to me of ages, when the account
Of my misfortune and your cruelty
Measures itself by hours, and not by years!
It was but yesterday you loved me, yes,
Loved me, and (let the metaphor run on)
I never will believe it ever was,
Or is, or ever can be possible
That the fair flower so soon forgot the sun
To which so long she owed and turn’d her beauty,
To love the baser mould in which she grew:
Or that the temple could so soon renounce
Her old god, true god too while he was there,
For any cold and sober deity
Which you may venerate, but cannot love,
Newly set up.
Ser. I must leave metaphor,
And take to sober sense; nor is it right,
Alvaro, that you strive
To choke the virtuous present with the past,
Which, when it was the past, was virtuous too,
But would be guilty if reiterate.
Nor is it right, nor courteous, certainly,
Doubting what I declare of my own heart;
Nay, you who do yourself affirm, Alvaro,
How well I loved you when such love was lawful,
Are bound to credit me when I declare
That love is now another’s.
Alv. Serafina—
Juan (speaking within). Light, light, there!
Enter Flora hurriedly.
Flora. Madam, my lord, my lord.
Alv. Confusion!
Ser. O ye heavens!
Flora. The old lover’s story.
Brother or husband sure to interrupt.
Juan (within). A light there, Flora! Serafina! night
Set in, and not a lamp lit in the house?
Alv. He comes.
Ser. And I am lost!
Flora. Quick, Don Alvaro,
Into this closet, till my lord be gone
Into his chamber; in, in, in!
Alv. My fears
Are all for you, not for myself.
[Hides in the closet.
Flora. In, in!
[Exit.
Juan (entering). How is it there’s no light?
Ser. She had forgot—
But here it comes.
Enter Flora with lights.
’Twas kind of you, my lord,—
So quickly back again—
Sooner than I expected.
Juan. Yes, a friend
Caught hold of me just as I reach’d the pier,
And told me to get home again.
Ser. (aside). My heart!
Juan. And wherefore do you think?
Ser. Nay, I know not.
Juan. To tell you of a festival, Serafina,
Preparing in your honour.
Ser. (aside). I breathe again.
Juan. The story’s this. It is the carnival,
You know, and, by a very ancient usage,
To-morrow all the folk of Barcelona,
Highest as well as lowest, men and women,
Go abroad mask’d to dance and see the shows.
And you being newly come, they have devised
A dance and banquet for you, to be held
In Don Diego’s palace, looking forth
So pleasantly (do you remember it?)
Upon the sea. And therefore for their sakes,
And mine, my Serafina, you must for once
Eclipse that fair face with the ugly mask;
I’ll find you fitting dress,—what say you?
Ser. Nay,
What should I say but that your will is mine,
In this as evermore?
And now you speak of dress, there are ev’n now
Some patterns brought me in the nick of time
To choose from, in my chamber; prithee come,
And help me judge.
Juan. I would that not your robe
Only, but all the ground on which you walk
Were laced with diamond.
Ser. What, not done yet
With compliment? Come—come.
(She takes a light.)
Juan. But wherefore this?
Ser. My duty is to wait upon you.
Juan. No.
Take the lamp, Flora.
Ser. Flora waits on me,
And I on you.
Juan. What humour’s this?
But be it as you will.
[Exeunt Juan and Serafina.
Flora (letting out Alvaro). Now is the time, Signor Alvaro! hist!
The coast is clear, but silently and swiftly—
Follow—but, hush! stop! wait!
Alv. What now?
Flora. A moment!
Back, back, ’tis Leonelo.
Alv. Put out the light, I can slip past him.
Flora (falls putting out light). No sooner said than done.
O Lord, Lord, Lord!
Enter Leonelo.
Leonelo. What is the matter?
Flora. The matter is, I have fallen.
Leon. Into temptation?
Flora. It is well, sir, if I have not broken my leg; here, sir, cease your gibing, and get this lamp lighted directly.
Leon. (stumbling over Alvaro). Halloa!
Flora. What now?
Leon. I’ve fallen now, and on your temptation I think, for it has got a beard.
Alv. (groping his way). The fool! but I can find the door.
[Exit.
Leon. There goes some one!
Flora. The man’s mad!
Leon. Am I? Halloa! halloa, there!
Enter Juan with light.
Juan. What is the matter?
Flora. Nothing, nothing, my lord.
Leon. Nothing? I say it is something, a great—
Flora. My lord, going to shut the door, I stumbled, fell, and put out the light, that’s all.
Leon. And I stumbled too.
Juan. Well?
Leon. Over a man.
Juan. In this chamber?
Leon. Yes, and—
Flora. Nonsense! my lord, he stumbled against me, as we both floundered in the dark.
Leon. You! What have you done with your beard then?
Juan. Are you mad? or is this some foolery?
Leon. My lord, I swear I stumbled over a fellow here.
Juan (aside). And she so anxious to light me to her chamber! what is all this? Take the lamp, Leonelo. Though partly I think you have been dreaming, I will yet search the house; come with me. I will draw the sting of suspicion at once, come what come may.
[Draws sword and exit.
Flora (to Leon.). All of your work. A murrain on your head,
Making this pother.
Leon. Minx! what is said, is said.
[Exeunt severally.
Scene II.—The garden of Don Luis’ palace at Naples; a window with a balcony on one side, or in front:—night.
Enter the Prince and Celio muffled up.
Celio. Still sighing? pardon me, your Highness, but
This melancholy is a riddle to me.
Prince. Ah, Celio, so strange a thing is love,
The sighs you think are melancholy sighs,
Yet are not so; I have indeed drunk poison,
But love the taste of it.
Cel. I used to think
’Twas all of being away from your Porcia;
But now when better starr’d, her brother absent;
Her father unsuspicious, at her bidding
Night after night you come beneath her lattice,
And yet—
Prince. If Porcia be not the cause
Of my complaint she cannot be the cure:
Yet (such is love’s pathology) she serves
To soothe the wound another made.
Cel. Who then was she, my lord, for whose fair sake
You cannot either love this loving lady,
Nor leave her?
Prince. I would tell you, Celio,
But you would laugh at me.
Cel. Tell me, however.
Prince. Rememberest not the lady whom we saw
For a few minutes, like some lovely vision,
In this same house a little while ago,
Not Porcia, but her diviner guest?
Cel. Oh, I remember; is it then to be
The speciality of your Highness’ love,
That, whereas other men’s dies off by absence,
Yours quickens—if it can be love at all
Caught from one transitory glance?
Prince. Nay, Celio;
Because a cloud may cover up the sun
At his first step into the firmament,
Are we to say he never rose at all?
Are we to say the lightning did not flash
Because it did but flash, or that the fountain
Never ran fresh because it ran so fast
Into its briny cradle and its grave?
My love, if ’twere but of one moment born,
And but a moment living, yet was love;
And love it is, now living with my life.
(A harp heard.)
Cel. O fine comparisons! but hark, I hear
The widow’d turtle in the leaves away
Calling her faithless mate.
Prince. Yes, Celio, ’tis
Porcia—if she sings to me of love,
I am to approach the window; but if jealousy,
I am to keep aloof. Listen!
Porcia (singing within).
Of all the shafts to Cupid’s bow.
The first is tipt with fire;
All bare their bosoms to the blow,
And call the wound Desire.
(She appears at the window.)
Prince. Ah! I was waiting, lovely Porcia,
Till your voice drew me by the notes of love,
Or distanced me by those of jealousy.
Por. Which needs not music, prince, to signify,
Being love’s plain, prose history.
Prince. Not always;
For instance, I know one,
Who, to refute your theory, Porcia,
Attracts men by her jealousy as much
As she repels them by her love.
Por. Nay, then
Men must be stranger beings than I thought.
Prince. I know not how that is, I only know
That in love’s empire, as in other empires,
Rebellion sometimes prospers.
Por. That the night
Would give us leave to argue out their point!
Which yet I fear it will not.
Prince. Why?
Por. My father,
Who frets about my brother’s sudden absence,
Sits up enditing letters after him;
And therefore I have brought my harp, that while
We talk together I may touch the strings,
So as he, hearing me so occupied,
May not suspect or ask for me. Besides,
We can talk under cover of the music.
Prince. Not the first time that love has found himself
Fretted, Porcia.
Por. Oh, the wretched jest!
But listen—
The music is for him, the words for you,
For I have much to tell you underneath
This mask of music.
(Plays on the harp.)
You know my father has been long resolved
To quit this government, and to return
To his own country place—which resolution,
First taken on my brother’s supposed death,
My brother’s sudden absence has revived;
And brought to a head—so much so, that to-morrow,
To-morrow, he has settled to depart
To Bellaflor—I scarce can say the words—
But let my tears—
Prince. ’Tis well that you should mask
Ill news under sweet music: though, indeed,
A treason to make sweet the poison’d cup.
Por. Who more than I—
Enter Julia within, hurried.
Julia. Madam, madam, your father
Is gone into the garden—I hear his steps.
Por. Nay then——(Sings)
Love’s second is a poison’d dart,
And Jealousy is named:
Which carries poison to the heart
Desire had first inflamed.
Prince. She sings of jealousy—we must retire;
Hist, Celio!
[Celio and Prince retreat.
Enter Luis.
Julia. Who’s there?
Por. Speak!
Luis. Oh, I, Porcia,
Who writing in my study, and much troubled
About your brother, was seduced away
By your harp’s pleasant sound and the cool night,
To take a turn in the garden.
Por. Yes, sir, here
I sit, enjoying the cool air that blows
Up from the shore among the whispering leaves.
Luis. What better? but, Porcia, it grows late,
And chilly, I think: and though I’d have you here
Singing like a nightingale the whole night through,
It must not be. Will you come in?
[Exit.
Por. Directly—
I’ve but a moment.
Prince (entering). And you shall not need
Repeat the love call, for I heard—
Por. (playing as she speaks). Nay, listen,
And that attentively. To-morrow, then,
We go to Bellaflor, (you know the place,)—
There in the hill-top, hid among the trees,
Is an old castle; ours, but scarcely used,
And kept by an old man who loves me well,
And can be secret. And if you should come
That way by chance, as hunting it may be,
I think we yet may meet.
Luis (within). Porcia!
Por. Sir!
Luis (within). It’s time, indeed, to shut your window.
Por. Hark,
I dare no longer.
Prince. Then farewell!
Por. Farewell!
Remember Bellaflor: while you retreat
Among the trees, I still shall sing to you
Of love; not that dark shape of jealousy,
But in the weeds of absence.
Prince. A descant
That suits us both,——(aside) but on a different theme.
Por. (singing).
The last of Cupid’s arrows all
With heavy lead is set;
That vainly weeping lovers call
Repentance or Regret.
[As she retires still singing from the window within, the Prince and Celio retire back into the garden.
Scene III.—A street before Don Diego’s house in Barcelona.
Enter Alvaro and Fabio, masked: other Masks pass across, and into Diego’s house.
Alv. This is the place; here will I wait till she comes by. I know her dress, but I dared not follow her till myself disguised.
Fab. And no doubt, sir, you will find good opportunity of talking to her. ’Tis the old and acknowledged usage of this season, that any one may accost any one so long as both are masked, and so neither supposed to know the other.
Alv. Oh, a brave usage, and a brave invention, that of the Carnival! One may accost whom one pleases, and whisper what one will, under the very ears of husband, father, or duenna!
Fab. So received a custom, that even among this hot-headed jealous people of Spain, no mortal quarrel has yet arisen on these occasions, though plenty to provoke it.
Alv. Look! the Masks are coming; I hear the music within. She must soon be here. Let us withdraw round this corner till she come.
[Exeunt.
Scene IV.—A garden leading down to the sea; on one side a Portico.
Masks singing and dancing; in the course of which enter and mix with them, Juan, Serafina, Leonelo, and Flora, and afterwards Alvaro; all masked.
Chorus.
Tantara, tantara, come follow me all,
Carnival, Carnival, Carnival.
Follow me, follow me, nobody ask;
Crazy is Carnival under the mask.
Follow me, follow me, nobody knows;
Under the mask is under the rose.
Tantara, tantara, etc.
Juan. How like you all this uproar?
Ser. O quite well.
Juan (aside). And so should I,
Did not a shadow from that darken’d room
Trail after me. But why torment myself!
Leon. My lord, the dancers wait.
Juan (to the musicians). Pardon me. Strike up!
Voices. Strike up! strike up!
A Voice. The castanets!
Voices. The castanets! the castanets!
Musician. What will you have?
Voices. The Tarazana! the Tarazana!
[A dance, during which Alvaro observes Serafina.
Fab. You recognise her?
Alv. Yes, Fabio, my heart
Would recognise her under any dress,
And under any mask.
Fab. Now is your time.
Alv. (to Serafina). Mask, will you dance with me?
Ser. No, Cavalier;
You come too late.
Alv. Too late?
Ser. I am engaged.
Alv. Nevertheless—
Ser. Nay, sir, I am not apt
To change my mind.
Alv. I hoped that in my favour
You might perhaps.
Ser. ’Twas a delusion.
Alv. But,
Fair Mask, didst never change thy mind before?
Ser. Perhaps once—to such purpose that that once
Forbids all other.
Juan. Serafina, the Mask
Has askt your hand to dance. On these occasions
You must permit him, whether known or not.
Unknown, the usage of the time allows;
If known, ’twere more discourteous to refuse.
Ser. My lord, ’twas chiefly upon your account
That I refused to dance with him; if you
Desire it, I am ready.
Juan. How, my love,
On my account?
Ser. Liking your company
Much better.
Juan. Nay, take the humour of the time,
And dance with him. (Aside.) I marvel who it is
That follows Serafina, and to whom,
The very indisposition that she shows,
Argues a kind of secret inclination.
Alv. Well, do you still reject me?
Ser. I am bidden
To dance with you; what measure will you call?
Alv. Play ‘Love lies bleeding!’
Ser. But why that?
Alv. Because
The spirit of the tune and of the words
Moves with my heart, and gives me leave beside
Amid its soft and slow divisions
To gaze on you and whisper in your ear.
(A minuet by the Masks; during which Alvaro constantly whispers Serafina, who seems distrest; after some time, they return in the figure to the front of the Stage.)
Ser. I’ve heard enough, sir; save for courtesy,
Too much. No more.
Alv. Brief as the happiness
That once was mine! But—
Ser. Stay, sir, I will hear
No more. I had not danced with you at all,
But that I wish’d to tell you once for all
How hopeless is your passion—the great danger
Your coming hither put and puts me to,
And that not my honour only, but my life,
Depends upon your quitting me at once,
Now and for ever.
Alv. Serafina!
Ser. (aloud). I am tired;
Pardon me, friends, I cannot dance.
Juan. My love,
What is ’t? Unwell?
Ser. I know not.
A Woman. Stop the ball!
Another. All in her honour too!
Another. What is the matter?
Juan. You are but tired with dancing.
Ser. No, no, no,
Let us go home.
Juan. Pardon us, friends,
Continue you your revels; we will go
Into the house awhile, and rest; I think
The heat and dancing have distrest her much,
But she’ll be better. To your dance again.
Come, Serafina. (Aside.) Leonelo! hither!
Find out the Mask that with your lady danced.
Leon. I’ll watch him to the world’s end—or beyond,
If need be.
Juan. Good—Come, Serafina.
[Exeunt Juan and Serafina.
Alv. So end my hopes for ever. Fool! who seeking
For what once lost could never more be found
Like to a child after a rainbow running—
Leaving my father, who had only just
Recover’d me to his old heart again,
Without adieu—equipp’d this Brigantine
(Down to the bottom may she go with me!)
In chase of this—not Serafina—no—
But this false Siren,
Who draws me with the music of her beauty,
To leave me in destruction.
Leon. (watching him). This must be some monk, who knows of some better entertainment elsewhere.
Alv. And after all,
Not one kind word of welcome or of thanks,
But that her life depended on my leaving her,
Who would for her have sacrificed my own
In any way but that. But it is done!
Henceforward I renounce all hope; henceforth—
And why not all despair?—the world is wide,
Eh, Fabio? and the good old saw says well
That fortune at the worst must surely mend.
Let us to sea, the ship is ready; come,
Away with all this foolery.
(Throws off mask, etc.)
Leon. Here is a harlequin sailor!
Fabio. Well resolved.
Alv. Wear them what other fool may list,
I’ll straight aboard, and if the wind and sea
Can rise as they were wont, I’ll stretch all sail
Toward the perdition she consigns me to.
Halloa there! (Whistles.)
Enter Sailors.
Sail. Captain?
Alv. How is ’t for a cruise?
Sail. Oh, never better; just a breeze to keep
The ship from looking in her glass too long.
Alv. Aboard, aboard then! Farewell all my hopes;
My love, farewell for ever!
Voices (within). Fire! fire! fire!
All. What’s this?
Voices. Fire! fire! in Don Diego’s palace!
Help! help!
Alv. She there! my life shall save the life
She said it jeopardied.
As he is going out, enter Juan with Serafina fainted in his arms.
Juan. Friends! Gentlemen! if you would help in this calamity, take charge for a moment of this most precious thing of all, till I return.
Alv. (taking Serafina in his arms). Trust me, sir.
[Juan rushes off.
Leon. Stop, my lord, stop a moment—he is gone, and this man—
Alv. Serafina in my arms! my ship at hand!
O love, O destiny!—aboard, aboard—
O ’tis the merriest proverb of them all,
How one man rises by his neighbour’s fall.
[Exit, carrying off Serafina.
Leon. Halloa! stop him! stop him! it is my mistress; Don Juan! my lord! my lord! the rascal has carried her off! my lord! my lord!
[Runs after Alvaro.
1st Voice in the crowd. The fire is getting under.
2nd Voice. No lives lost?
3rd Voice. Only, they say, one poor girl of the lady Serafina’s.
Enter Don Juan hurriedly.
Juan. I thought I heard Leonelo calling me—But where is Serafina? This is the place—yes—Serafina! I left them here—taken her perhaps fainting as she was for help. Gentlemen, have you seen any here with a lady, fainted, in their charge—a sailor, I think?
1st Man. Not I, sir.
2nd Man. Nor I.
3rd Man. Stay, I think there were some sailors with a lady in their arms.
Juan. And where—
Enter Leonelo breathless.
Leon. Oh, my lord, my lord!
Juan. Speak!
Leon. The Mask who danced with my lady—
Juan. Where is she?
Leon. Was the sailor you gave her in charge to—He has carried her off.
Juan. The Mask! the sailor!
Leon. I saw him throw off his disguise, and now he has carried her off—to the shore—to sea—to the ship there now spreading her sails in the harbour.
Juan. Man! beware lest I blast thee!
Leon. As if I were the sailor! I tell you I ran after them, shouted, struggled, but was pushed aside, knocked down—
Juan. To the shore, to the shore! follow me!
Voices. What is the matter?
Juan. What I dare not name till it be avenged; Pirate!—Ruffian! Oh fool, I might have guessed—but I will find them through water and fire too. To the shore!
[Exit Juan, Leonelo after him; confusion, etc.