Dion. Who offers injury,
And who revenges it, ply the same thread
Of Nature's scarlet. Heraclides, go.
Thou'rt free.
Her. I do not kneel to you—a man—
But to the god that houses in your shape.
O noble Dion, what deed may speak my thanks
Too great for tongue?
Dion. Arise, go forth, and where
You once betrayed a thousand hearts lead one