Phil. Ay, when we know not our meaning, let a woman find it.
Oc. Which she will do the more readily if we mean nothing.
The. True, her wit is generous. She'll always bait a hook that angles painfully.
Oc. Though she, good soul, must hang herself upon it.
[Theano and Ocrastes move aside, bantering. Aratea turns to Phillistus and Nauresta]
Dion. [To Aristocles] Ocrastes is a youth full dear to me.
Orphaned at birth, I've bred him from a babe.
He is of bravest heart, and must leap high
Although he fall o'er heaven.
Aris. And the maid?