“[taking up the tune an octave higher in his counter tenor]
Sostegno a gloria D'umanita.
The Devil. Precisely. Well, he never sings for us now.
DON JUAN. Do you complain of that? Hell is full of musical amateurs: music is the brandy of the damned.
May not one lost soul be permitted to abstain?
The Devil. You dare blaspheme against the sublimest of the arts!
DON JUAN. [with cold disgust] You talk like a hysterical woman fawning on a fiddler.”