“For that same ground that bears the useless weed,
Bears also wholesome herbs, and quite as oft;
And where the rough and stinging nettles breed,
Waxes the rose, so sweet and smooth and soft;
And next the valley, lifts the hill aloft,
And after night, then comes the glad tomorrow,
And so is the joy the after end of sorrow.”
Pandar to Troilus, from Chaucer’s Troilus and Cressida
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