Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Leon. And I of him will gather patience:
Leon. But there is no such man, for brother, men
Leon. Can counsaile, and speake comfort to that griefe,
Leon. Which they themselues not feele, but tasting it,
Leon. Their counsaile turnes to passion, which before,
Leon. Would giue preceptiall medicine to rage,
Leon. Fetter strong madnesse in a silken thred,
Leon. Charme ache with ayre, and agony with words,
Leon. No, no, 'tis all mens office, to speake patience
Leon. To those that wring vnder the load of sorrow:
Leon. But no mans vertue nor sufficiencie
Leon. To be so morall, when he shall endure
Leon. The like himselfe: therefore giue me no counsaile,
Leon. My griefs cry lowder then aduertisement.
Broth. Broth.
Broth. Therein do men from children nothing differ.
Leonato. Leonato.
Leonato. I pray thee peace, I will be flesh and bloud,
Leonato. For there was neuer yet Philosopher,
Leonato. That could endure the toothȑake patiently,