What rare views they might close to some one here?—
What can have happen’d?
“Why not speak to me?—
You seem the very statue of yourself.—
Why, what has chill’d you so?—Not I?—Not I?—
Pauline, I know, if I to you were cold,
A certain rosy face with opening lips
Could come with power to bring me summer air,
Dispelling sweetly my most wintry wish,
Despite myself!—Why will you trust me not?”