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Helena.
It is my diffidence that makes me doubt;
And if thou dost deny thy confidence,
What can I deem myself, but a mere toy,
A plaything for thy idle moments?—not
Thy bosom's counsellor, and valued friend——
Giovanni.
Helena, thou shouldst see my inmost soul,
Read all my thoughts, but—
Helena.
That thou fearest to trust me:
Though I lack wisdom, love, I'll be discreet—
Why dost thou hesitate?
Giovanni.
When Eve had spoiled
The tree of knowledge with a daring hand,
She found the fruit was bitter—be advised—
Retain thy innocent simplicity;
Revel in happy ignorance, nor seek
A theme for deeper meditation, than
Hath yet found entrance in thy youthful heart.
