Ara. You, sir?
Dion. I will forgive him,
For love has made him mad.
Ara. Swear it by Heaven.
Dion. By Heaven. Now wilt speak?
Ara. Such sacred oaths
Need sacrificial rite, and here I give
My blood.
[Suddenly draws a dagger and attempts to stab herself. Aristocles, watching eagerly, seizes dagger, and supporting her speaks wildly]