But I, who know this Turandot, can tell you
She is a lady of too little worth
To cause the noble lineage in your blood
To die. She neither wants you, nor your death.
Now leave her, Sir, and give her leave to wish you
Joy of your twice escape.
CALAF
I hear you, yet
I hear like one who dies out on the desert
And dreams he hears sweet water tinkling.—Lady,