Conrade: What the good year, my lord! Why are you thus out of measure sad?
Don John: There is no measure in the occasion that breeds; therefore the sadness is without limit.
Conrade: You should hear reason.
Don John: And when I have heard it, what blessing brings it?
Conrade: If not a present remedy, at least a patient sufferance.
The dust is settling and the people have chosen. God, do I wish the people had chosen differently, but this is what we have. And, for the next four years, all I want is to be wrong. I want all of us to be happier and healthier and safer and more satisfied and comfortable and better off than I think that we are going to be. Please prove me wrong, George.
But, if not that – if there is no present remedy, let’s just be sad for a little while that things aren’t different, and then fix up our patient sufferance without whining too much and get to it. Four more years, indeed.
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