As feathers to the wind.
Ara. [Slowly] My lord, this night,
By Dionysius' force, my hand was given
In marriage to Ocrastes. Dost thou hear?
Ocrastes sails this hour for Italy.
Ere he returns——
Aris. Thou'st whirled away my soul!
O stroke of Dis! O faithless Heaven! He?
Not he! Such mid-hell treachery is out