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(Charlemont) How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping!
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(Leonato:) Did he break into tears? (Messenger:) In great measure. (Leonato:) A kind overflow of kindness. There are no faces truer than those that are so washed. How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping!
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A child of those tears. [Lat., Filius istarum lacrymarum.]
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A man is seldom more manly than when he is what you call unmanned,–the source of his emotion is championship, pity, and courage; the instinctive desire to cherish those who are innocent and unhappy, and defend those who are tender and weak.
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A stoic of the woods,–a man without a tear.
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Accept these grateful tears! for thee thy flow, For thee, that ever felt another’s woe!
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After his blood, that which a man can next give out of himself is a tear.
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All kin’ o’ smily round the lips An’ teary roun’ the lashes.
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All the rarest hues of human life take radiance and are rainbowed out in tears.
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And as the butcher takes away the calf And binds the wretch and beats it when it strains, Bearing it to the bloody slaughterhouse, Even so remorseless have they borne him hence; And as the dam runs lowing up and down, Looking the way her harmless young one went, And can do naught but wail her darling’s loss, Even so myself bewails good Gloucester’s case With said unhelpful tears, and with dimmed eyes Look after him and cannot do him good, So mighty are his vowed enemies. His fortunes I will weep, and ‘twixt each groan Say ‘Who’s a traitor? Gloucester he is none.’
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And friends, dear friends,–when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me, And gone my bier ye come to weep, Let One, most loving of you all, Say, Not a tear must o’er her fall; He giveth His beloved sleep.
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And if the boy have not a woman’s gift To rain a shower of commanded tears, An onion will do well for such a shift, Which in a napkin being close conveyed Shall in despite enforce a watery eye.
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And that same dew, which some time on the buds was wont to swell like round and orient pearls, stood now within the pretty floweret’s eyes, like tears that did their own disgrace bewail.
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And the tear that is wiped with a little address, May be follow’d perhaps by a smile.
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And the tear, that is wiped with a little address, May be follow’d perhaps by a smile.
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And weep the more, because I weep in vain.
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As Rubens by one stroke converted a laughing into a crying child, so nature frequently makes this stroke in the original; a child’s eye, like the sun, never draws water so readily as in the hot temperature of pleasure.
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Astronomers have built telescopes which can show myriads of stars unseen before; but when a man looks through a tear in his own eye, that is a lens which opens reaches in the unknown, and reveals orbs which no telescope, however skilfully constructed, could do; nay, which brings to view even the throne of God, and pierces that nebulous distance where are those eternal verities in which true life consists.
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Behold who ever wept, and in his tears Was happier far than others in their smiles.
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Believe these tears, which from my wounded heart bleed at my eyes.
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