Would save me were I damned! And thou art mine.
By stars that knit their motions with our fates,
The season-childing sun, great Heaven itself——
Ara. O, not by Heaven!
Aris. And Heaven's all-greater Lord,
Who gives us souls that we may love all beauty,
And gives us beauty that our souls may love it,
I swear thee mine!
Ara. Your oath—your oath to Dion!
Aris. Thou 'rt mine above all vows! Thou canst not let