No harm will happen, dear old tutor, sure From picking up a picture from the floor. No woman yet has caused my heart to throb,-- Shall painted lines my soul of freedom rob? (_Barak endeavours to prevent Kalaffrom beholding the miniature; Kalaf puts him aside, and gazes on it for some time in silence._) Ye gods! an angel's face. Oh ecstacy! BARAK. Now, there; he's caught. I knew how it would be! KALAF. Beneath this beaming smile, these lustrous eyes, There cannot lurk a cruel heart of ice. BARAK. I tell you she's the wickedest of creatures; Oh, gaze not on the Syren's fatal features, More baneful than the Gorgon head, Medusa. KALAF. Hush, hush, I will not hear you thus abuse her, I never saw a face and form diviner; Her's is not mortal clay, but porcelain China, Some magic power, some demon, I know not, Enchains my soul to beauteous Turandot. (_Gazes enraptured on the miniature._) These eyes to meet, these rosy lips to kiss, Who would not hazard all to win such bliss? My senses reel, my veins are all afire! Good Barak, help me to my heart's desire. Her stern ordeal I'll undergo--to solve Her problems or to die, is my resolve. BARAK. Desist from your intention, I conjure you, Let my remonstrance of this madness cure you. KALAF. You speak in vain. My fortune now or never, Shall be ensured for aye, or lost for ever. One stroke will end my life, or I shall gain The fairest woman e'er beheld, and reign An Emperor of Chang's celestial state. O smile upon my hopes, benignant Fate! (_During this speech, a Chinese executioner has appeared on the city gate, bearing a pole upon which is fixed a turbaned head: he places it in the row, and disappears._) But tell me, Barak, shall I in divan Behold the lovely daughter of the Khan? BARAK. A spectacle more thrilling now behold, That head just smitten off. My blood runs cold, To think that yours may be thus closely shaven. KALAF. Nay, fear is not for princes--I'm no craven. (_Contemplates the head with compassion._) Poor youth, deserving of a better fate. BARAK. Sweet prince, renounce th' attempt. KALAF. Too late, too late! BARAK. I fear you'll fail to guess the Sphinx's riddles. KALAF. I'll cut the Gordian knots right down their middles! I'm not so stupid as some folks suppose; 'Twill not be easy my quick wit to pose. I fancy I shall come off with _éclat_; But if I fail, it does not matter, pshaw! If in this enterprise I lose my life, Present my compliments to your good wife; My horse be hers, in payment of her trouble. Heigho! this world's a dream, and life's a bubble! (_Going. Enter_ SKIRINA _from the cottage._) Reveal my name to none. Nay, do not cry, You've wept me once before as dead. Goodbye. SKIR. Why, what's the matter? You are melancholy. BARAK. Oh, help me, wife, restrain this youth's mad folly; He's off to Peking--means to dare the Sphinx! SKIR.