Let go thy hold—’tis powerless on me now:
I linger here, while treason is at work!
[Exit Gonzalez.
Elm. Ximena, dost thou scorn me?
Xim. I have found
In mine own heart too much of feebleness,
Hid, beneath many foldings, from all eyes
But His whom naught can blind, to dare do aught
But pity thee, dear mother!
Elm. Blessings light