My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great might do at sea.(25)
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run,
But I should think of shallows and of flats;
And see my wealthy Andrewdock'd in sand,
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs,
To kiss her burial.
Q: In what mood Salarino is when he says the above lines?