Your thoughts are flowers and your words their fragrance;
I do not hear but breathe them. Pray you, stay!
[He slowly resumes his seat. She looks silently at the sky. He writes on tablet]
Ara. Aristocles, thou wilt be god of gods
When thou 'rt among those stars; but now, O friend,
Come nearer earth. Be mortal for my sake.
I'm fearful when you're gone, or when your soul
Keeps court so far above me.
Aris. I'll read to you.
Ara. What you have written there?