Prince. Often.
Ar. Yet till now
Never thus smitten! how comes that, my lord?
Prince. Well askt—though ignorantly. Know you not
That not an atom in the universe
Moves without some particular impulse
Of heaven? What yesterday I might abhor,
To-day I may delight in: what to-day
Delight in, may as much to-morrow hate.
All changes; ’tis the element the world,