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.)