Now I know that I am a troublesome, sort of person and disagreeable, and morose, as though I were curtailing life of some of its pleasure. Why, this is the very cause of my mourning that things so displeasing are esteemed a sort of pleasure. For how, I ask, can it be other than displeasing to be insulted and reviled? to be reproached by all, together with your bride? If any one in the market place speak ill of thy wife, thou makest ado without end and countest life not worth living: and can it be that disgracing thyself with thy future consort in the presence of the whole city, thou art pleased and lookest gay on the matter? Why, what strange madness is this!