nds, who hold a woman's favor,
And love's pure joys, as wares to traffic for!
Love is the only treasure on the face
Of this wide earth that knows no purchaser
Besides itself--love has no price but love.
It is the costly gem, beyond all price,
Which I must freely give away, or--bury
For ever unenjoyed--like that proud merchant
Whom not the wealth of all the rich Rialto
Could tempt--a great rebuke to kings! to save
From the deep ocean waves his matchless pearl,
Too proud to barter it beneath its worth!

CARLOS (aside).
Now, by great heaven, this woman's beautiful.

PRINCESS.
Call it caprice or pride, I ne'er will make
Division of my joys. To him, alone,
I choose as mine, I give up all forever.
One only sacrifice I make; but that
Shall be eternal. One true heart alone
My love shall render happy: but that one
I'll elevate to God. The keen delight
Of mingling souls--the kiss--the swimming joys
Of that delicious hour when lovers meet,
The magic power of heavenly beauty--all
Are sister colors of a single ray--
Leaves of one single blossom. Shall I tear
One petal from this sweet, this lovely flower,
With reckless hand, and mar its beauteous chalice?
Shall I degrade the dignity of woman,
The masterpiece of the Almighty's hand,
To charm the evening of a reveller?

CARLOS.
Incredible! that in Madrid should dwell
This matchless creature! and unknown to me
Until this day.

PRINCESS.
Long since had I forsaken
This court--the world--and in some blest retreat
Immured myself; but one tie binds me still
Too firmly to existence. Perhaps--alas!
'Tis but a phantom--but 'tis dear to me.
I love--but am not loved in turn.

CARLOS (full of ardor, going towards her).
You are!
As true as God is throned in heaven! I swear
You are--you are unspeakably beloved.

PRINCESS.
You swear it, you!--sure 'twas an angel's voice.
Oh, if you swear it, Carlos, I'll believe it.
Then I am truly loved!

CARLOS (embracing her with tenderness).
Bewitching maid,
Thou creature worthy of idolatry
I stand before thee now all eye, all ear,
All rapture and delight. What eye hath seen thee--
Under yon heaven what eye could e'er have seen thee,
And boast he never loved? What dost thou here
In Philip's royal court! Thou beauteous angel!
Here amid monks and all their princely train.
This is no clime for such a lovely flower--
They fain would rifle all thy sweets--full well
I know their hearts. But it shall