Boldness be my friend.
We are advertis'd by our loving friends.
There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger.
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.
Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining.
Dreams are the children of idled minds.