Silence

But soft, behold! Lo, where it comes again!
I’ll cross it though it blast me. Stay, illusion!
It spreads his arms.

If thou art privy to thy country’s fate,
Which happily foreknowing may avoid,
O, speak!

If thou hast any sound or use of voice,
Speak to me.
If there be any good thing to be done
That may to thee Hendiadysdo ease and grace to me,
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Silence is the perfectest heralt of joy; I were but little happy, if I could say how much!
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The silence often of pure innocence
Persuades when speaking fails.
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