When Chore doth call her on, that wholly doth betake
Herself unto the Loo; transform’d into a lake,
Through that impatient love she had to entertain
The lustful Neptune oft; whom when his wracks restrain,
Impatient of the wrong, impetuously he raves:
And in his rageful flow, the furious King of waves
Breaks foaming o’er the beach, whom nothing seems to cool,
Till he have wrought his will on that capacious pool:
Where Menedge, by his brooks, a[61] chersonese is cast,
Widening the slender shore to ease it in the waste;