Produced by Delphine Lettau, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
DON FERDINAND Mr. Mattocks.
DON JEROME Mr. Wilson.
DON ANTONIO Mr. Dubellamy.
DON CARLOS Mr. Leoni.
ISAAC MENDOZA Mr. Quick.
FATHER PAUL Mr. Mahon.
FATHER FRANCIS Mr. Fox.
FATHER AUGUSTINE Mr. Baker.
LOPEZ Mr. Wewitzer.
DONNA LOUISA Mrs. Mattocks.
DONNA CLARA Mrs. Cargill.
THE DUENNA Mrs. Green.
Masqueraders, Friars, Porter, Maid, and Servants.
Enter LOPEZ, with a dark lantern.
Lop. Past three o'clock!—Soh! a notable hour for one of my regulardisposition, to be strolling like a bravo through the streets ofSeville! Well, of all services, to serve a young lover is thehardest.—Not that I am an enemy to love; but my love and my master'sdiffer strangely.—Don Ferdinand is much too gallant to eat, drink, orsleep:—now my love gives me an appetite—then I am fond of dreamingof my mistress, and I love dearly to toast her.—This cannot be donewithout 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, forreflections! but my master expects thee, honest Lopez, to secure hisretreat 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 youngmistress, Donna Louisa, I suppose: so! we shall have the old gentlemanup presently.—Lest he should miss his son, I had best lose no time ingetting to my post. [Exit.]
Enter DON ANTONIO, with MASQUERADERS and music.
SONG.—Don 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.
I. Mas. Antonio, your mistress will never wake, while you sing sodolefully; love, like a cradled infant, is lulled by a sad melody.
Don Ant. I do not wish to disturb her rest.
I. Mas. The reason is, because you know she does not regard youenough to appear, if you awaked her.
Don Ant. Nay, then, I'll convince you. [Sings.]
The breath of morn bids hence the night,
Unveil those beauteous eyes, my fair;
For till the dawn of love is there,
I feel no day, I own no light.
DONNA LOUISA—replies from a window.
Waking, I heard thy numbers chide,
Waking, the dawn did bless my sight;
'Tis Phoebus sure that woos, I cried,
Who speaks in