Glide thither in a day?—Then, true Pisanio—
Who long’st like me to see thy lord; who long’st
O, let me ’bate—but not like me—yet long’st—
But in a fainter kind:—O, not like me;
For mine’s beyond beyond: say, and speak thick,—
Love’s counsellor should fill the bores of hearing,
To the smothering of the sense,—how far it is
To this same blessed Milford: and, by the way,
Tell me how Wales was made so happy as
To inherit such a haven: but, first of all,