CARLOS.
Are you angry still?
Offended still with me——
EBOLI.
Prince!
CARLOS (earnestly).
Are you angry?
I pray you answer me.
EBOLI.
What can this mean?
You seem, prince, to forget—what would you with me?
CARLOS (seizing her hand with warmth).
Dear maiden! Can you hate eternally?
Can injured love ne'er pardon?
EBOLI (disengaging herself).
Prince! of what
Would you remind me?
CARLOS.
Of your kindness, dearest!
And of my deep ingratitude. Alas,
Too well I know it! deeply have I wronged thee—
Wounded thy tender heart, and from thine eyes,
Thine angel eyes, wrung precious tears, sweet maid!
But ah! 'tis not repentance leads me hither.
EBOLI.
Prince! leave me—I——
CARLOS.
I come to thee, because
Thou art a maid of gentle soul—because
I trust thy heart—thy kind and tender heart.
Think, dearest maiden! think, I have no friend,
No friend but thee, in all this wretched world—
Thou who wert once so kind wilt not forever
Hate me, nor will thy anger prove eternal.
EBOLI (turning away her face).
O cease! No more! for heaven's sake! leave me, prince.