Diego. (extravagantly) Yes, in love to desperation!—I am tortured with jealousy; driven almost to phrenzy!—In the tumult of passion I am now hurried up to the summits of the highest hills, now driven into the lowest recesses of a subterranean cavern,—till at length I have wandered insensibly into this spot, devoted to tender feelings, here to hold solitary intercourse with the mournful turtle-doves.
High-Priest. This spot does indeed seem to be selected by the gods, as an asylum for enamoured fools.
Diego. Here will I tell of my sorrows to the silent trees!—here breathe out my amorous sighs to the chaste moon!
High-Priest. Thou art a coxcomb! (Exit.)
Diego. (Alone) A coxcomb!—So much the worse for you Signor!—for if such be the case, the most illustrious High-Priest of the Sun has been made the sport of a coxcomb. Live wit, say I—it will fetch its price in the new world, as well as in the old.—But is he really gone?—Yes.—I hear nothing more!—Hist!—Hist!—(He goes and looks out at the other side of the stage.)
SCENE IV.—Enter Don Alonzo and Don Juan. The latter with a large Cloak wrapped round him.
Juan. Are we safe, Diego?
Diego. A fine question, truly.—Yes, as safe as men can be who are wandering about a forest in the dead of night, and under the open canopy of heaven, after, saving your honour’s presence, a piece of knavery. By Saint Barnabas I believe we are about as safe as a drunkard who should attempt to cross the river Amazons upon a wire.
Juan. Have you seen any thing?