Aris. Think not that you can fly me now!
Though thou wert dead still wouldst thou live for me
In such dear semblance of remembered show
That I would seek to woo thy houseless spirit
E'er give thee o'er unclasped to Heaven!
Ara. Ah! [Releases herself]
Dion. But now she lives, and living she is mine.
Aris. Her lips, not yours, shall say!
Dion. Lost man, thou'rt crazed.
I pity thee. Speak, wife.