Eros.
Are they beech-woods?
Aphrodite.
I did not think that I could ever be happy again. I am not happy. But I am not miserable. Now that my heart is quiet again, I am not miserable. Oh! that sick tossing on the black sea, the nausea, the aching, the dulness; that I, who sprang from the waves, could come to
hate them so. We will never venture on the sea, again?
Eros.
Then must we stay for ever here, since this is an island.
Aphrodite.
Yes, here for ever. For ever? We have no "for ever" now, Eros.
[Enter, from the house, Cydippe.]