Arn.Ah!
Cæs. You are grave—what have you on your spirit!
Arn.Nothing.
Cæs. How mortals lie by instinct! If you ask
A disappointed courtier—What's the matter?
"Nothing"—an outshone Beauty what has made
Her smooth brow crisp—"Oh, Nothing!"—a young heir
When his Sire has recovered from the Gout,
What ails him? "Nothing!" or a Monarch who30
Has heard the truth, and looks imperial on it—