Page:The Siege of Valencia.pdf/170

Scene—The Garden of a Palace in Valencia.

Ximena, Theresa.

THERESA.

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.

XIMENA.

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.

THERESA.

You have been wont to love the music made

By founts, and rustling foliage, and soft winds,
Breathing of citron-groves. And will you turn
From these to scenes of death?

XIMENA.

To me the voice

Of summer, whispering through young flowers and leaves