How oft we'd give thy hard, substantial store
To build again with bright illusion's eye
Our happy towers on the inconstant clouds:
[Sees a light through curtains]
She's up! No ... who is there?
[Veils her taper. Kent comes from the inner room. He carries a candle]
Kent. She does not move.
O, Eleanor, how could thy heart give blood
To one so pure that he who loves her best
Would send her back to Heaven?