Who bows our necks beneath her brazen yoke.
I would have manned my heart, and held it out;
But, when I thought of what I had possessed,
Those joys, that never end, but to begin,
O, I am all on fire to make my peace;
And die, Jove knows, as much as I can die,
Till I am reconciled.
Phæd. I fear 'twill be in vain.
Jup. 'Tis difficult:
But nothing is impossible to love;