All sorrows take their ease.
Mar. Think thou of Heaven.
Kent. But O, how dear this life! The immortal world
Is shrunk to shadow of a single thought,
And this contemned earth is sudden grown
Past circumscription of the mind's fond eye.
No-no—we must not die!
Mar. Wouldst tremble now?
When thou hast love beside thee? Nay, my lord,
Be yet the man of men, whose virtue drew