Come on—our tasks await us. They who know
Their hours are number’d out, have little time
To give the vague and slumberous languor way,
Which doth steal o’er them in the breath of flowers,
And whisper of soft winds.
[Elmina enters hurriedly.
Elm. The air will calm my spirit, ere yet I meet
His eye, which must be met.—Thou here, Ximena!
[She starts back on seeing Ximena.
Xim. Alas! my mother! in that hurrying step