Leonato

Leonato, with a letter
I learn in this letter that Don
Pedro of Aragon comes this night to Messina.
Messenger
He is very near by this. He was not three
leagues off when I left him.

He hath borne himself beyond the promise of his age,
doing in the figure of a lamb the feats of a lion.
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Beatrice
I have brought Count Claudio, whom you sent me to seek.
Prince
Why, how now, count, wherefore are you sad?
Claudio
Not sad, my lord.
Prince
How then, sick?

No, sure, my lord, my mother cried, but then there
was a star danced, and under that was I born.
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There’s little of the melancholy element in
her, my lord. She is never sad but when she sleeps,
and not ever sad then, for I have heard my daughter
say she hath often dreamt of unhappiness and
waked herself with laughing.
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I know not. If they speak but truth of her,
These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honor,
The proudest of them shall well hear of it.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine,
Nor age so eat up my invention,
Nor fortune made such havoc of my means,
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends,
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Wherefore? Why, doth not every earthly thing
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny
The story that is printed in her blood?—
Do not live, Hero, do not ope thine eyes,
For, did I think thou wouldst not quickly die,
Thought I thy spirits were stronger than thy shames,
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Leonato
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 med’cine to rage,
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread,
Charm ache with air, and agony with words.
No,
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I pray thee peace. I will be flesh and blood,
For there was never yet philosopher
That could endure the toothache patiently.
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Men can counsel and speak comfort to that grief which they themselves not feel.
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Leonato’s Brother
If you go on thus, you will kill yourself,
And ’tis not wisdom thus to second grief
Against yourself.
Leonato
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 mine ear
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine.
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