Aris. Thou 'rt mine above all vows! Thou canst not let
A mock-enthron�d custom speak to God?
An atom fettered with nice consequence
Bar up the gates of love that are as wide
As His earth-belting arms?
Ara. No pity, none.
Aris. My heart, say thou wilt come.
Ara. 'Tis death.
Aris. 'Tis life!