What the goodyear, my lord, why are you thus out of measure sad?
What the goodyear, my lord, why are you
thus out of measure sad?
There is no measure in the occasion that
breeds. Therefore the sadness is without limit.
In this, though I cannot be said to be
a flattering honest man, it must not be
denied but I am a plain-dealing villain.
You should hear reason.
And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it?
If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance.
I wonder that thou, being, as thou sayst thou
art, born under Saturn, goest about to apply a moral
medicine to a mortifying mischief. I cannot hide
what I am. I must be sad when I have cause, and
smile at no man’s jests; eat when I have stomach,
and wait for no man’s leisure; sleep when I am
drowsy, and tend on no man’s business; laugh when
I am merry, and claw no man in his humor.
Yea, but you must not make the full show of
this till you may do it without controlment. You
have of late stood out against your brother, and he
hath ta’en you newly into his grace, where it is
impossible you should take true root but by the fair
weather that you make yourself. It is needful that
you frame the season for your own harvest.
I had rather be a canker in a hedge than a
rose in his grace, and it better fits my blood to be
disdained of all than to fashion a carriage to rob
love from any. In this, though I cannot be said to be
a flattering honest man, it must not be denied but I
am a plain-dealing villain. I am trusted with a
muzzle and enfranchised with a clog; therefore I
have decreed not to sing in my cage. If I had my
mouth, I would bite; if I had my liberty, I would do
my liking. In the meantime, let me be that I am, and
seek not to alter me.
Can you make no use of your discontent?
I make all use of it, for I use it only.