_Lara._ There’s nothing in this world so sweet as love,
And next to love the sweetest thing is hate!
I’ve learned to hate, and therefore am revenged.
A silly girl to play the prude with me!
The fire that I have kindled—
(_Enter Francisco._)
Well, Francisco,
What tidings from Don Juan?
_Fran._ Good, my lord;
He will be present.
_Lara._ And the Duke of Lermos?
_Fran._ He was not in.
_Lara._ How with the rest?
_Fran._ I’ve found
The men you wanted. They will all be there,
And at the given signal raise a whirlwind
Of such discordant noises that the dance
Must cease for lack of music.
_Lara._ Bravely done.
Ah! little dost thou dream, sweet Preciosa,
What lies in wait for thee. Sleep shall not close
Thine eyes this night! Give me my cloak and sword.
[_Exeunt._