Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee,
I. 2. 275 By help of her more potent ministers,
And in her most unmitigable rage,
Into a cloven pine; within which rift
Imprison’d thou didst painfully remain
A dozen years; within which space she died,
280 And left thee there; where thou didst vent thy groans
As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island—
Save for the [son] that [she] did litter here,
A freckled whelp hag-born—not honour’d with