_Diony._ Come, friends! Now is the sweetest garden hour, When day's dust-foul�d trail is passed, and night Has not yet donned her moist and heavy cloak. [_They cross to garden_] Here let us wait the lords. We've summoned all Of golden purse and of right noble line. Now that we've stopped all revenues to Dion, And this night give our sister to a husband Of our own choosing---- _Oc._ Dionysius! _Diony._ Ha! You, Ocrastes? Know to whom you speak! _Oc._ My lord, you would not dare---- _Diony._ Not dare? That word Is strange to me. Will some good scholar here Tell me its meaning? _Oc._ Pardon, mighty lord. I sought to warn you that the wife of Dion---- _Diony._ Your blood moves hotly off in Dion's cause, And warning from our chief suspected foe---- _Oc._ This arm has fought your battles, sir! _Diony._ Ay, so. Would we might rank your famous valiancy Once more with us, but while we doubt your heart You are our enemy. _Oc._ What proof, my lord---- _Diony._ We'll find it soon enough. Till then have care, And dainty walk 'tween wolf and precipice! [_Dionysius and lords go into garden_] _Oc._ No cry this wrong would give the sea new tongue, And mend the winds with utterance! But now No time for sighs and groans. The tyrant's brow Is hung with murder's cloud. I must be quick Or lose the breath ties me to upper earth. Action must take the vantage now of thought, And reason follow after. [_Re-enter Theano, from palace_] _The._ I was long. ... She's better now, and quiet. _Oc._ Better? Who? _The._ Who?--O! My mother. _Oc._ Fie, does she yet live? _The._ O gentle gods! _Oc._ All women now should die. _The._ Ocrastes! _Oc._ Do not stare. Thine eyes are not The only home of agony. Farewell! _The._ Farewell? No, no! [_Clinging to him_] You'll tell me first! What is it? Will you not trust me? _Oc._ 'Tis thy trust I want. _The._ Thou hast it. _Oc._ Swear 'tis mine. _The._ My lover! _Oc._ Swear! Thy trust! Thy perfect trust! _The._ 'Tis thine. I swear it. _Oc._ Though fiends of doubt hail thee on every side, Venting their slander from the mouth of winds. Yet wilt thou trust me? _The._ Ay, my lord, I will! [_Lords begin to enter from the garden_] _Oc._ Once more to-night I'll see thee. Go! _The._ My love! _Oc._ Go, go!