[♦] Nor set no footing on this unkind shore?’
[♦] What did I then, but cursed the gentle gusts
[♦] And he that loosed them forth their brazen caves;
90 And bid them blow towards England’s blessed shore,
Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock?
Yet Æolus would not be a murderer,
[♦] But left that hateful office unto thee:
[♦] The pretty-vaulting sea refused to drown me,
95 Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown’d on shore,
With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness: