Not to a rage; patience and sorrow strove
who should express her goodliest. You have seen
sunshine and rain at once, her smiles and tears
were like a better way. Those happy smilets
that played on her ripe lip seemed not to know
what guests were in her eyes, which parted thence
as pearls from diamonds dropped. In brief,
sorrow would be a rarity most beloved
if all could so become it.
—King Lear 4.3.16
