Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.

Seb. With an eye 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, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness and glosses; being rather new dyed than stained 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 plague 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 rais'd 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.

I

Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.

Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.

Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.

Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? mean, in a sort.

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?
Alon. You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My son is lost; and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy remov❜d,

I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee!

Fran.

Sir, he may live ;

I saw him beat the surges under him,

And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted

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.

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,

Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.

Alon.

Pr'ythee, peace.

Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise

By all of us; and the fair soul herself

Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at

Which end o' the beam she'd bow.5 We have lost your son,

I fear, for ever. Milan and Naples have

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,
And time to speak it in; you rub the sore,

When you should bring the plaster.

Seb.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

Very well.

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,

When you are cloudy.

Seb.

Ant.

Foul weather!

Very foul.

Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord—
Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.

Or docks, or mallows.

Seb.
Gon. And were the king on 't, 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;
Letters should not be known; no use of service,
Of riches or of poverty; no contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none:

с

No occupation; all men idle, all; { roza' 7/
And women too, but innocent and pure:

No sovereignty¤—

Seb.

duel of wh

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 i» „blue} Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, burdun si yodT Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,

Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,it to tr
Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,orto en iz mobisz ti
To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects }, † +577/

A

Ant. None, man; all idle; 'jades and knavesey berei, [14 Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, Toy dstew batA To excel the golden age.//

Seb.

bok onzo Save his majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo !
Gon.

Alon. Pr'ythee, no more:

wolk

WI-W TO 9028 ted # 42 And, do you mark me, sir ?WA thou dost talk nothing to me.

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 100

"

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; solemn music playing,...,..

Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.
Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

1

Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discré tion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

+

Add [All sleep but ALON., SEB., and ANT.

4

A

Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I findA) They are inclin'd to do so. int 155750s to trows thotr Seb. 19 Please you, sir,' Do not omit the heavy offer of it: I It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, It is a comforter.

Ant.

+

(

We two, my lord, 2011 ZE STEBNÍ OŽ. 02 Will guard your person while you take your rest, Z twA And watch your safetyjoven fortsahrwy done a try How I 600 Alon. Thank you. Wondrous heavy. T sa in [ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARÍEL. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.

Why

Seb.
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.-

Ant.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble.,-.16. I

They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian-O, what might No more :-
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,

What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; and
My strong imagination sees a crown

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

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