Overture

Who will away to Athens with me? who Loves choral songs and maidens crown'd with flowers, Unenvious? mount the pinnace; hoist the sail. I promise ye, as many as are here, Ye shall not, while ye tarry with me, taste                From unrins'd barrel the diluted wine Of a low vineyard or a plant ill prun'd, But such as anciently the Aegean isles Pour'd in libation at their solemn feasts: And the same goblets shall ye grasp, emboss'd                With no vile figures of loose languid boors, But such as gods have liv'd with and have led.