Now my charms are all o'erthrown,And what strength I have's mine own, -Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,I must be here confined by you...But release me from my bandsWith the help of your good hands:Gentle breath of yours my sailsMust fill, or else my project fails,Which was to please: now I wantSpirits to enforce, art to enchant;And my ending is despair,Unless I be relieved by prayer,Which pierces so, that it assaultsMercy itself, and frees all faults.As you from crimes would pardon'd be,Let your indulgence set me free.
You are a transitional generation, said Aunt Lydia. It is the hardest for you. We know the sacrifices you are being expected to make. It is hard when men revile you. For the ones who come after you, it will be easier. They will accept their duties with willing hearts.She did not say: Because they will have no memories, of any other way.She said: Because they won't want things they can't have.
Cannot you tell that? Every fool can tell that. It was the very day that young Hamlet was born, he that is mad and sent into England.""Ay, marry, why was he sent into England?""Why, because he was mad. He shall recover his wits there, or, if he do not, it's no great matter there.""Why?""'Twill not be seen in him there. There the men are as mad as he.