Ara. O Dion, Dion! My unhappy lord!
Aris. Abate thy grief, dear lady. Affliction is
The night of man where stars his lustrous soul
That in a happy sun would pale unseen.
Ara. My brother! 'Tis his treacherous hand! O, me!
Now heaven and earth be naught, I care not!
[Exeunt Aratea, Nauresta, Theano and attendants]
A courtier. Come!
There's more to this.
Another. Ay, friends, let's to the streets.