Please know my friends.
Dion. [To Aratea, as Aristocles greets the others]
Why is Phillistus here?
Are we so poor, my dame, the enemy
Must sauce our feast? Nay, nay!
Ara. I hope, my lord,
My brother's subjects are not enemies.
Phil. [Who has stood apart, approaches Aristocles] Welcome to Sicily, although your breath is somewhat frosty for our warmer pleasures.
Ara. [As Dion frowns] The frost that draws the poison, saves the flower, you mean, my good Phillistus.
Aris. A fair interpreter!