“Well, well; but let not this thought make thee weep so bitterly.”
Spenser.
“Poison may ooze from beautiful plants; deadly grief from dearest reminiscences.
“I must grieve, I must weep; it seems the law of God, and the only one that men are not disposed to contravene. In the performance of this alone do they effectually aid one another.”
Essex.
“Spenser! I wish I had at hand any arguments or persuasions of force sufficient to remove thy sorrow; but really I am not in the habit of seeing men grieve at any thing except the loss of favour at court, or of a hawk, or of a buck-hound. And were I to swear out my condolences to a man of thy discernment, in the same round, roll-call phrases we employ with one another upon these occasions, I should be guilty, not of insincerity, but of insolence. True grief hath ever something sacred in it, and when it visiteth a wise man and a brave one, is most holy.
“Nay, kiss not my hand; he whom God smiteth hath God with him. In his presence what am I?”
Spenser.
“Never so great, my lord, as at this hour, when you see aright who is greater. May He guide your counsels, and preserve your life and glory!”