Stop every conscious note but wonder!
Aris. Ah,
I've heard it said Apollo loved my mother,
And I could wish it true, that god-descended
I might embrace thyself, who surely art
Of high Olympus born—whose mortal part
Wears beauty as the night her stars.
Dion. Behold
Me desolate, ye gods! Is this my friend?
Nay, thou hast given friendship such a blow