O brother, speak with possibility
O brother, speak with possibility,
And do not break into these deep extremes.
Is not my sorrow deep, having no bottom?
Then be my passions bottomless with them.
But yet let reason govern thy lament.
If there were reason for these miseries,
Then into limits could I bind my woes.
When heaven doth weep, doth not the Earth o'erflow?
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad,
Threat'ning the welkin with his big-swoll'n face?
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil?
I am the sea. Hark how her sighs doth flow!
She is the weeping welkin, I the Earth.
Then must my sea be movèd with her sighs;
Then must my Earth with her continual tears
Become a deluge, overflowed and drowned,
Forwhy my bowels cannot hide her woes
But like a drunkard must I vomit them.
Then give me leave, for losers will have leave
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues.