THE DUENNA

A COMIC OPERA

K

DRAMATIS PERSONE

AS ORIGINALLY ACTED AT COVENT-GARDEN THEATRE ON TUESDAY,

ACT I. SCENE I.

Street

Enter LOPEZ, with a dark lantern

Lop. PAST three o'clock! soh! a notable hour for one of my regular disposition, to be strolling like a bravo through the streets of Seville! Well, of all services, to serve a young lover is the hardest-not that I am an enemy to love; but my love and my master's differ strangely.-Don Ferdinand is much too gallant to eat, drink, or sleep-now, my love gives me an appetite; then I am fond of dreaming of my mistress, and I love dearly to toast her. This cannot be done without good sleep and good liquor; hence my partiality to a feather-bed and a bottle. What a pity now that I have not further time for reflections! but my master expects thee, honest Lopez, to secure his retreat from Donna Clara's window, as I guess [Music without]-hey! sure, I heard music! So, so! who have we here? Oh, Don Antonio, my master's friend, come from the masquerade to serenade my young mistress, Donna Louisa, I suppose: soh! we shall have the old gentleman up presently-lest he should miss his son I had best lose no time in getting to my post. [Exit.

Enter ANTONIO, with Masks and Music

SONG

Ant.

Tell me, my lute, can thy soft strain
So gently speak thy master's pain?

So softly sing, so humbly sigh,

That, though my sleeping love shall know
Who sings-who sighs below,

Her rosy slumbers shall not fly?

Thus, may some vision whisper more
Than ever I dare speak before.

1 Mask. Antonio, your mistress will never wake while you sing so dolefully: love, like a cradled infant, is lulled by a sad melody.

Ant. I do not wish to disturb her rest.

I Mask. The reason is, because you know she does not regard you enough to appear, if you awaked her. Ant. Nay, then, I'll convince you.

[Sings.

Enter FERDINAND and LOPEZ

Lopez. Truly, sir, I think that a little sleep, once in a week or so

Ferd. Peace, fool, don't mention sleep to me.

Lopez. No, no, sir, I don't mention your low-bred, vulgar, sound sleep; but I can't help thinking that a gentle slumber, or half an hour's dozing, if it were only for the novelty of the thing

Ferd. Peace, booby, I say!—Oh, Clara! dear, cruel disturber of my rest!

Lopez. And of mine too.

Ferd. 'Sdeath! to trifle with me at such a juncture as this-now to stand on punctilios-love me! I don't believe she ever did.

Lopez. Nor I either.

Ferd. Or is it that her sex never know their desires for an hour together?

Lopez. Ah, they know them oftener than they'll own

them.

Ferd. Is there, in the world, so inconstant a creature as Clara?

Lopez. I could name one.

Ferd. Yes; the tame fool who submits to her caprice.
Lopez. I thought he couldn't miss it.

Ferd. Is she not capricious, teasing, tyrannical, obstinate, perverse, absurd? ay, a wilderness of faults and follies; her looks are scorn, and her very smiles-'Sdeath! I wish I hadn't mentioned her smiles; for she does smile such beaming loveliness, such fascinating brightness.-Oh, death and madness! I shall die if I lose her.