ous, and whose very coldness
Kindles aflame; and who, when warmed with passion,
Can make a paradise, and scatter round
The bliss of heaven, the rapture of the gods.
The man whom nature has adorned with gifts
To render thousands happy, gifts which she
Bestows on few--that such a man as this
Should know what misery is! Thou, gracious Heaven,
That gavest him all those blessings, why deny
Him eyes to see the conquests he has made?

CARLOS (who has been lost in absence of mind, suddenly recovers himself
by the silence of the PRINCESS, and starts up).
Charming! inimitable! Princess, sing
That passage, pray, again.

PRINCESS (looking at him with astonishment).
Where, Carlos, were
Your thoughts the while?

CARLOS (jumps up).
By heaven, you do remind me
In proper time--I must away--and quickly.

PRINCESS (holding him back).
Whither away?

CARLOS.
Into the open air.
Nay, do not hold me, princess, for I feel
As though the world behind me were in flames.

PRINCESS (holding him forcibly back).
What troubles you? Whence comes these strange, these wild,
Unnatural looks? Nay, answer me!
[CARLOS stops to reflect, she draws him to the sofa to her.
Dear Carlos,
You need repose, your blood is feverish.
Come, sit by me: dispel these gloomy fancies.
Ask yourself frankly can your head explain
The tumult of your heart--and if it can--
Say, can no knight be found in all the court,
No lady, generous as fair, to cure you--
Rather, I should have said, to understand you?
What, no one?

CARLOS (hastily, without thinking).
If the Princess Eboli----

PRINCESS (delighted, quickly).
Indeed!

CARLOS.
Would write a letter for me, a few words
Of kindly intercession to my father;--
They say your influence is great.

PRINCESS.
Who says so?
[Aside.
Ha! was it jealousy that held thee mute!

CARLOS.
Perchance my story is already public.
I had a sudden wish to visit Brabant
Merely to win my spurs--no more. The king,
Kind soul, is fearful the fatigues of war
Might spoil my singing!

PRINCESS.
Prince, you play me false!
Confess that by this serpent subterfuge
You would mislead me. Look me in the face,
Deceitful one! and say would he whose thoughts
Were only bent on warlike deeds--would he
E'er stoop so low as, with deceitful hand,
To steal fair ladies' ribbons when they drop,
And then--your pardon! hoard them--with