Ara. You see 'tis finished.
Aris. Ay, 'tis.
Ara. The window—come! We'll make this fast—
And then—farewell!
Aris. Till I return with Dion.
Ara. Return? No, no, my lord! O, come no more
To this cursed land. Be happy in thy Athens.
And Plenty bless thee as thou wert her child,
Swelling thy measure till prosperity
Hang on thy look like fruit invisible