Scene V.—The Garden of a Palace in Valencia.
Ximena, Theresa.
Ther. Stay yet awhile. A purer air doth rove
Here through the myrtles whispering, and the limes,
And shaking sweetness from the orange boughs,
Than waits you in the city.
Xim. There are those
In their last need, and on their bed of death,—
At which no hand doth minister but mine,—
That wait me in the city. Let us hence.