Alonzo. (Eagerly pulling Juan forwards.) Come, come!—let us fly!
Juan. With the utmost transport! (As they are going, a clapping of hands is heard behind the wall.)
Alonzo. (Turning suddenly round) That is her signal! my Cora! my Cora!—(He breaks away from Velasquez, and climbs hastily over the breach in the wall.)
SCENE V.—Don Juan, and Diego. Juan looks after Alonzo with Astonishment and Indignation.
Diego. (After a pause.) Now do I defy any one to assert again, that sound is an empty thing—a nothing. The most reverend Don Juan Velasquez has been for a long time holding such a discourse here as is not delivered every day, even from the pulpit of Salamanca, but the moment that three or four claps are given by a pair of heathenish hands, the wretch for whose benefit this fine oration was intended, loses every beneficial impression, gives them all to the winds, and runs headlong after his own wild inventions.
Juan. (With some asperity) Farewell my friend! Since thou art resolved on ruin, take thine own course!—Oh madman! madman!—where others only walk he runs, where others enter slowly and only step by step, thither he rushes. Well, well, even if what I have urged prove of no avail, friendship has however discharged its duty—and the worst that can happen is at last to be reduced to suffer with my friend. Till then, be of good heart, Diego!—How dost thou find thyself?
Diego. Like a fish upon dry land.
Juan. Thou dost not speak truly. When a fool is running on the wrong side of the post, he is in his proper element; and, by Saint George, I think we are running cursedly on the wrong side of the post here.
Diego. Only with this difference, that I must do as you please—and you are not pleased to do what God and sound reason require of you.
Juan. Well, let us hear what your wisdom would suggest.