You love me, Aratea.
Ara. Fare you well.
Aris. [Against the curtains] First say thou lovest me!
Dost thou not hear
A voice at night when calm Eirene leads
Sleep to all eyes but thine?
Ara. Have mercy, sir!
Aris. What leap of soul or dream of sense hast thou
That is not sweeter for you hold me dear?
When Theia's daughter, priestess gray, unhoods