_Diony._ Right! Give her leave, And she will stroke you where she meant to strike. _Ara._ You love Theano! _Oc._ Ah,--I did, perhaps, A thousand years ago. All now's forgot But that thou mayst be mine. _Ara._ O, false---- _Oc._ O true! What was scarce fair to unpossessing eyes, Perfection is when gods have made it ours. Thou wilt forgive me that I loved thee not While thou wert Dion's, for my eyes were sealed By loyalty to him. But this divorce That frees thee gives me sight. I see, and love. And by that love still dost thou grow more fair. For is not love a second, truer eye, Finding out beauty where the first could not? No more! We'll plead hereafter. 'Tis an hour To win, not woo. Swords must be burnished, sails Must meet the wind! _Ara._ Are you Ocrastes? No! O, no! He is the son of Dion's love, And you would wed his wife. He was a poor Forsaken babe, his mighty heritage Plunder for any thief. 'Twas Dion then Became his father, gave him life and wealth, And that sweet breeding that till now did show So fair in him. Ocrastes owes him all---- _Oc._ Ay, all! E'en wisdom. He would call me fool Stayed I from market when thy richest self Courts any passing bid. Since he must lose---- _Ara._ Nay, every touch will be a three-fold shame Robbing a husband, benefactor, friend. My eyes will mirror those reproachful days When Dion's care was fond about us both. His kisses guard my lips. His praise of you Will block your words in my assaulted ears. _Oc._ You know me not. My words shall be love's fire Burning the track of Dion's pale discourse. My kisses on your lips hold festal war With his till they, poor ghosts, shall flee. And dews Of happiness shall wash all pictures out From your fair eyes but my enthron�d own Which hourly I'll new-set in their fair glass! _Ara._ I called you brother!... O, my lords, I beg-- Some one of you--to take me for--your--wife. [_Faints. Ocrastes supports her. Curtain._] ACT III SCENE 1. _A chamber in the palace. Nauresta on bed asleep. Phillistus watching._