Dectora. Why are you looking at the sea?
Forgael. Look there!
There where the cloud creeps up upon the moon.
Dectora. What is there but a troop of ash-grey birds
That fly into the west?
[The scene darkens, but there is a ray of light upon the figures.
Forgael.But listen, listen!
Dectora. What is there but the crying of the birds?
Forgael. If you’ll but listen closely to that crying
You’ll hear them calling out to one another