'Tis immortality to die aspiring, As if a man were taken quick to heaven. - George Chapman

Words writ in waters.

As far as white Aurora's dews are sprinkled through the air.

And for the authentical truth of either person or actions, who (worth the respecting) will expect it in a poem, whose subject is not truth, but things like truth? Poor envious souls they are that cavil at truth's want in these natural fictions; material instruction, elegant and sententious excitation to virtue, and deflection from her contrary, being the soul, limbs, and limits of an authentical tragedy.