see with unmoved eye the death of what we love. The effort required is
barbarous in the eyes of the universe--'tis brutality rather than
highest virtue. In this misfortune I will not wear a show of
insensibility, and hide the grief I feel. I renounce the vanity of
this fierce callousness, known as fortitude, and whatever be the name
given to the keen pain, the pangs of which I feel, I will exhibit it,
my daughter, to the gaze of all, and in the heart of a king display
that of a man.

PSY. I deserve not this violent grief. Seek, I pray, to resist the
claims it asserts over your heart, whose might a thousand events have
marked. What! for me, my Lord, you must abandon that kingly firmness
of which, under the blows of misfortune, you have shown such perfect
proofs?

KING. In numberless occasions firmness is easy. All revolutions to
which ruthless fortune can expose us--loss of rank, persecution,
envy's venom, hatred's dart--present nothing which the will of a soul,
but a little swayed by reason, cannot easily brave. But those rigours
which crush the heart under the weight of bitter grief are ... are the
cruel darts of those severe decrees of fate which deprive us for ever
of our loved ones. Against such ills reason offers no available
weapons. These are the direst blows that the gods in their wrath can
hurl against us!

PSY. My Lord, one consolation is still left you. Your marriage has
been graced with more than one gift from the gods, and by hiding me
from your sight, they with open favour deprive you of nothing but what
they have not carefully made good for you. Enough remains to relieve
your sorrow, and this law of heaven which you call cruel leaves