Seg. Last night? Last night?
Clo. Ay, do you not remember
Envying his immunity of flight,
As, rising from his throne of rock, he sail’d
Above the mountains far into the West,
That burn’d about him, while with poising wings
He darkled in it as a burning brand
Is seen to smoulder in the fire it feeds?
Seg. Last night—last night—Oh, what a day was that
Between that last night and this sad To-day!