Indexed in the public record
The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water; the poop was beaten gold; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, It beggar'd all description.
Provenance
Type:
play
Confidence:
0.85
Indexed:
2026-07-04
Hash:
711eb2c816e14e4caf5c8861c593ca8c69f12f5ff379cea825387c08e672757b
public domain

Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 9th ed. (Little, Brown, 1905), public domain

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