She dies from earth, nor in eternal groves
May she be healed.
Aris. Not mine, but yours, the blow.
Dion. Ocrastes struck me, and I rose again.
My wife was taken, and I lived to sigh.
But you—O, now the quick of life is seized
With mortal ill. Now shakes my earth to centre,
And on me falling bow her peak�d tops.
Even here and now I die. All fellowship
Forego with gallant breath, and lay me down