Thus weary of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid Their mistress mounted through the empty skies In her light chariot quickly is convey'd; Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen Means to immure herself and not be seen.

For naught so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give.

Greatness, once fallen out with fortune, must fall out with men too.

By that sin fell the angels.

We will have rings and things and fine array

The time is out of joint.

And thence from Athens turn away our eyes To seek new friends and stranger companies.