I pray thee, cease thy counsel,
Which falls into mine ears as profitless
5As water in a sieve. Give not me counsel,
Nor let no comforter delight mine ear
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.
Bring me a father that so loved his child,
Whose joy of her is overwhelmed like mine,
10And 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.
15If such a one will smile and stroke his beard,
Bid sorrow wag, cry “hem” when he should
Patch grief with proverbs, make misfortune drunk
With candle-wasters, bring him yet to me
And I of him will gather patience.
20But 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 med'cine to rage,
25Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
Charm ache with air, and agony with words.