Cæsar.It is
The land of Song—and Canticles you know
Were once my avocation.
Arn.Nothing moves you;
You scoff even at your own calamity—
And such calamity! how wert thou fallen20
Son of the Morning! and yet Lucifer
Can smile.
Cæs.His shape can—would you have me weep,
In the fair form I wear, to please you?