_First courtier._ Tame, tame. I'd not have left my couch at the bath for such. And Dracon's tongue was middle of a pretty tale. _Nau._ But the banquet--why stayed you not for that? _Second courtier._ Have you not heard? The seven evil winds have struck the feast, and left but fruit and wine. My wife's as good a cook. Can serve a plate of figs! _Nau._ What's this? _First courtier._ As we say. Our delectable gardens are smit with sudden prudent frost. The mullein and the plantain shortly will grow where we have plucked luxuriance' rose. [_Enter Aratea and Aristocles_] _Nau._ What do you mean, my lord? _First courtier._ [_Looking at Aristocles_] The wind is all too near that wrought this havoc. _Aris._ Nay, have no fear for Dion. You wrong this hour of promise. Your brother yields us much. _Ara._ Indeed too much! These sudden born desires are to be feared in him. Ah, here's Ocrastes. _Nau._ He's much disturbed. I know that brow. [_Re-enter Ocrastes, right_] _The._ Ocrastes? _Oc._ Now heavens shake for what mine eyes have seen! I followed Dion to the southern shore Where the new pinnace floats beneath the castle, And there Domenes held him in close talk, When suddenly ere wink could question it, The soldiers had him bound within a boat Outrowing to the pinnace, which took him up And bent to sea like an embodied wind. But that a score of traitor arms enforced me The waves had kept me not on hated land! Surprise so stormed him Dion scarce could call "Revenge me not, but seek to calm the city!" Then from the pinnace a relenting boat Brought this short writing. 'Tis for Aratea. _Ara._ Read--read--Ocrastes--I--I can not see. _Oc._ [_Reads_] Aristocles will be thy comfort. Bid him not forget Syracuse to think of me. Now that the thorny counsellor is plucked from court, he can do much with Dionysius. Ocrastes will be to thee a brother of more love than ever was the tyrant. Sweet, farewell. 'Tis from thine eyes I'm banished, not thy heart. _Ara._ O Dion, Dion! My unhappy lord! _Aris._ Abate thy grief, dear lady. Affliction is The night of man where stars his lustrous soul That in a happy sun would pale unseen. _Ara._ My brother! 'Tis his treacherous hand! O, me! Now heaven and earth be naught, I care not! [_Exeunt Aratea, Nauresta, Theano and attendants_] _A courtier._ Come! There's more to this. _Another._ Ay, friends, let's to the streets. [_Courtiers hurry away. Ocrastes and Aristocles alone_] _Oc._ I'll rouse the populace! _Aris._ No, you will calm it. _Oc._ Sir, I was knit in heat and tempered mortal! Your natal star was cold when you were born, Dead in the heavens, had long forgot its fire, And could not give one twinkle's warmth to you! I've blood, and know my friends!