In motion of no less celerity
Than that of thought. Suppose that you have seen
The well-appointed king[1] at Hampton pier
Embark his royalty;[2] and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phœbus fanning:
Play with your fancies; and in them behold
Upon the hempen tackle ship-boys climbing;
Hear the shrill whistle, which doth order give
To sounds confus’d; behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind,