nighness. Yea, ye shall know now to what market ye have

But my poor mistress went distract and mad,

When the boar tusk'd him: so away she flew

To Jove's high throne, and by her plainings drew

Immortal tear-drops down the thunderer's beard;

Whereon, it was decreed he should be rear'd

Each summer time to life. Lo! this is he,

That same Adonis, safe in the privacy

Of this still region all his winter-sleep.