What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, That he should weep for her?
Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
She dreams of him that has forgot her love; You dote on her that cares not for your love. 'Tis pity love should be so contrary; And thinking of it makes me cry 'alas!
Wisdom cries out in the streets, and no man regards it.
How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
You speak like a green girl / unsifted in such perilous circumstances.