Of mortal meaning!
Ara. He is mad, I think.
He loves me not.
Aris. I'd sport a madman too!
Wear lunacy as doth a king his purple,
If that would draw a goddess from the skies
To quiet in my arms! Did it not strain
Forbearance to the snap that Dion—whose wisdom
Humbles the mouth of Zeus—whose justice is
The boast of shades when Rhadamanthus blunders—