est (God be thanked), and your stomach
somewhat more come to you. For verily, albeit I had heard before
that, in respect of the great pain that for a month's space had
held you, you were, a little before my last coming to you, somewhat
eased and relieved--for otherwise would I not for any good cause
have put you to the pain of talking so much as you then did--yet
after my departing from you, remembering how long we tarried
together, and that we were all that while talking, and that all the
labour was yours, in talking so long together without interpausing
between (and that of matter studious and displeasant, all of
disease and sickness and other pain and tribulation), I was in good
faith very sorry and not a little wroth with myself for mine own
oversight, that I had so little considered your pain. And very
feared I was, till I heard otherwise, lest you should have waxed
weaker and more sick thereafter. But now I thank our Lord, who hath
sent the contrary. For a little casting back, in this great age of
yours, would be no little danger and peril.
ANTHONY: Nay, nay, good cousin--to talk much, unless some other
pain hinder me, is to me little grief. A foolish old man is often
as full of words as a woman. It is, you know, as some poets paint
us, all the joy of an old fool's life to sit well and warm with a
cup and a roasted crabapple, and drivel and drink and talk!
But in earnest, cousin, our talking was to me great comfort, and
nothing displeasing at all. For though we commoned of sorrow and
heaviness, yet the thing we chiefly thought upon was not the
tribulation itself but the comfort that may grow thereon. And
therefore am I now very glad that you are come to finish up the
rest.
VINCENT: Of truth, my good uncle, it was comforting to me, and
hath been since to some other of your friends, to whom, as my poor
wit and remembrance would serve me, I did report and rehearse (and
not needlessly) your most comforting counsel. And now come I for
the rest, and am very joyful that I find you so well refreshed and
so ready thereto. But this one thing, good uncle, I beseech you
heartily. If I, for delight to hear you speak in the matter, forget
myself and you both, and put you to too much pain, remember your
own ease. And when you wish to leave off, command me to go my way
and seek some other time.
ANTHONY: Forsooth, cousin, if a man were very weak, many words
spoken (as you said right now) without interpausing, would
p
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