Aris. Then she is mine!
And, could I snatch a tear from Dian's cheek
When bowed at secret altar she renews
Her vestal sanctity, 'twould not be less
Unspotted to my love! O, Aratea,
Wilt come? My wife? Say not thou lov'st, but cling
Unto my breast as trusting bud to bough,
Or but uplook with eyes whose shaken sea
Is calmed in mine.
Dion. Ye powers that rule my being,