_Aris._ I know she is Pandora without taint! The secret pattern lost in mourning heaven When rapt Hephaistos shaped the perfect clay By Pallas' breath made vital! Sir, receive her! Let me implore it by our years of love. _Dion._ Thou'rt dear to me as man may be to man, But wert thou dear as god may be to god, I could not grant thy wish. _Aris._ Then she is mine! And, could I snatch a tear from Dian's cheek When bowed at secret altar she renews Her vestal sanctity, 'twould not be less Unspotted to my love! O, Aratea, Wilt come? My wife? Say not thou lov'st, but cling Unto my breast as trusting bud to bough, Or but uplook with eyes whose shaken sea Is calmed in mine. _Dion._ Ye powers that rule my being, Stop every conscious note but wonder! _Aris._ Ah, I've heard it said Apollo loved my mother, And I could wish it true, that god-descended I might embrace thyself, who surely art Of high Olympus born--whose mortal part Wears beauty as the night her stars. _Dion._ Behold Me desolate, ye gods! Is this my friend? Nay, thou hast given friendship such a blow She dies from earth, nor in eternal groves May she be healed. _Aris._ Not mine, but yours, the blow. _Dion._ Ocrastes struck me, and I rose again. My wife was taken, and I lived to sigh. But you--O, now the quick of life is seized With mortal ill. Now shakes my earth to centre, And on me falling bow her peak�d tops. Even here and now I die. All fellowship Forego with gallant breath, and lay me down Like forest trunk that pours its wasting heart From every lopp�d limb. [_Theano attempts to comfort him_] Go from me, girl. My wounded senses shrink away from life Till gentlest touches are as brands of pain. Dumb be my lips. I'll speak no more on earth. _Ara._ Keep you that word! Thy silence is my speech! Know, Dion, though the knowing now is naught, Ocrastes left me ere his marriage vow Was cold in air, nor took one bridal kiss. Nor have these eyes beheld him since that hour, Nor will the eye of mortal see him more. The sea now holds him to her buried heart. Some shelly couch washed with a Nereid's tears Is his last bed. _Dion._ And you untouched ... untouched. _Ara._ I grieve you did not know me better, sir. You too, my lord Aristocles. Those cords-- Those daggers--poisons--had been quickly found----