ALTHAEA.
Yea, but a curse she hath sent above all these
To hurt us where she healed us; and hath lit
Fire where the old fire went out, and where the wind
Slackened, hath blown on us with deadlier air.
CHORUS.
What storm is this that tightens all our sail?
ALTHAEA.
Love, a thwart sea-wind full of rain and foam.
CHORUS.
Whence blown, and born under what stormier star?
ALTHAEA.
Southward across Euenus from the sea.