Can speak like us; then wisely, good Sir, weigh Alon. Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike. Gon. Sir, Seb. One:--Tell. Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's of fer'd, Comes to the entertainer Seb. A dollar. Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you purposed. Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. Gon. Therefore, my Lord. Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! Alon. I pr'ythee, spare. Gon. Well, I have done: but yet Seb. He will be talking. Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow? Seb. The old cock. Ant. The cockrel. Seb. Done: The wager? Ant. A laughter. Seb. A match. Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,- Ant. So you've paid. Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,- Adr. Yet Ant. He could not miss it. Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.* Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly deliver'd. Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. Ant. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen. Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life. Seb. Of that there's none, or little. Temperature. Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks? how green? Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny. Seb. With an eyet of green in't. Ant. He misses not much. Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is indeed almost beyond credit) Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are. Gon. That our garments, being as they were, drench'd in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dyed, than stain'd with salt water. Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, he lies? Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis. Seb. Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen. Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow? a pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido! Seb. What if he had said, widower Æneas too? good lord, how you take it! Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me study of that she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, Sir, was Carthage. Adr. Carthage? Gon. I assure you, Carthage. Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Seb. He hath raised the wall, and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next? Seb. I think, he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple. Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands. Gon. Ay? Ant. Why, in good time. Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments seem now as fresh, as when we were at Tunis, at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. • Rank. + Shade of colour. Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. Gon. Is not, Sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. Ant. That sort was well fish'd for. Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir Fran. Sir, he may live; I saw him beat the surges under him, The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head 'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd, As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt, He came alive to land. Alon. No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss; That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African; Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye, Alon. Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importuned other By all of us; and the fair soul herself [wise Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have [your son, More widows in them of this business' making, Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault's Your own. Alon. So is the dearest of the loss. Gon. My lord Sebastian, The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, When you should bring the plaister. Seb. Very well. Ant. And most chirugeonly. • Degree or quality. Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. Seb. Foul weather? Ant. Very foul. Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord.- Seb. Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king of it, What would I do? Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine. Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things: for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; And women too; but innocent and pure : Seb. And yet he would be king on't. Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. Gon. All things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine," Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foizon, + all abundance, To feed my innocent people. Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects? Ant. None, man: all idle; whores, and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age. Seb. 'Save his majesty! Ant. Long live Gonzalo ! Gon. And do you mark me, Sir? [to me. Alon. Pr'ythee, no more; thou dost talk nothing Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing. Ant. "Twas you we laugh'd at. Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. Ant. What a blow was there given! Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long. Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. Enter ARIEL invisible, playing solemn music. Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy? Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. [All sleep but Alon. Seb. and Ant. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find They are inclined to do so. Seb. Please you, sir, Do not omit the heavy offer of it: It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter. Ant. We two, my lord, Will guard your person, while you take your rest, And watch your safety. Alon. Thank you: wondrous heavy. [Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. Seb. Why Doth it not then our eye-fids sink? I find not Ant. Nor I; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, Worthy Sebastian -0, what might?-No more :And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face, What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head. Seb. What, art thou waking? Ant. Do you not hear me speak? Seb. I do; and, surely, It is a sleepy language; and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep: what is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep [and With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep. Ant. Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores. |
