Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Stoic's Counsel Refuted by William Shakespeare, etc
If you go on thus, you will kill yourself,
And 'tis not wisdom thus to second grief
I pray thee cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
As water in a sieve. Give not me counsel,
Nor let no comforter delight my ear
But such a one whose wrongs do suit mine.
Bring me a father that so loved his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine,
And bid him speak of patience.
Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine,
And let it answer every strain for strain,
As thus for thus, and such a grief for such,
In every lineament, branch, shape and form.
If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
Bid sorrow wag, cry "hem" when he should groan,
Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
With Candlewashers- bring him yet to me,
And I of him with gather patience.
But there is no such man, for, brother, men
Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief
Which they themselves not feel, but, tasting it,
Their counsel turns to passion, which before
Would give preceptial medicine to rage,
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
Charm ache with air and agony with words.
No, no! 'Tis all men's office to speak patience
To those that wring under the load of sorrow,
But no man's virtue or sufficiency
To be so moral when he shall endure
The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel.
My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
Therein do men from children nothing differ.
I pray thee peace! I will be flesh and blood;
For there was never yet philosopher
That could endure the toothache patiently
However they have writ the style of the gods
And made a pish at chance and sufferance.
" Much Ado About Nothing"; Act V, V.1