Alas! in vain I hope with idle jest
To cool the flame that rages in my breast.
Go to Don Cesar: get him to reveal
The sorrows that he feeling I too feel.
I’ll to my sister; since, whether away,
Or present, Donna Anna needs must slay,
I will not starve with absence, but e’en die
Burn’d in the sovereign splendour of her eye.
[Exeunt severally.