No cheer. Thy questioning looks may not be answer’d
With any brightness, duke: and yet take heart.
The fever of our climate is in the onset
Oft overmasked as this. ’Twill clear and pass.
’Twere quite incredible she should so sicken
Of mere affection. The compacted body
Hath its machinery for health and action,
Its appetites for food and rest, too firm
To be unfixed by fancy. Like a river
Our life flows on, whose surface storms may vex,