And trapped great Ares, sport for gazing heaven!
O, I am lost! [Casts him off]
Away! away! Nor may
My lips move more on earth but in a prayer
To cleanse this moment's madness from our souls!
Aris. Wouldst leave me now to death?
Ara. Ay, unto death,
Lest Truth and Honor die! Thy way's not mine.
My aspen soul would shake its house of fear,
Imagine thunder in the bee's soft hum,