The Consolation of Philosophy

"But it is rather time," saith she, "to apply remedies, than to make complaints." And then looking wistfully upon me: "Art thou he," saith she, "which, being long since nursed with our milk, and brought up with our nourishments, wert come to man's estate? But we had given thee such weapons as, if thou hadst not cast them away, would have made thee invincible. Dost thou not know me? Why dost thou not speak? Is it shamefastness or insensibleness that makes thee silent? I had rather it were shamefastness, but I perceive thou art become insensible." And seeing me not only silent but altogether mute and dumb, fair and easily she laid her hand upon my breast saying: "There is no danger; he is in a lethargy, the common disease of deceived minds; he hath a little forgot himself, but he will easily remember himself again, if he be brought to know us first. To which end, let us a little wipe his eyes, dimmed with the cloud of mortal things." And having thus said, with a corner of her garment she dried my eyes which were wet with tears.