Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Alon. Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so. 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 entertained, that's offered, Comes to the entertainer Seb. A dollar. Gon. Dolor comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you purposed. Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! Gon. Well, I have: 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 cockerel. ? Seb. Done: The wager! Ant. A laughter. Seb. A match. Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,— Seb. Ha, ha, ha! Ant. So you've payed. Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible, Seb. Yet, 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 delivered. 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. 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. 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 vouched 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 pox o' that! How came that widow in? Widow Dido! Seb. What if he had said Widower Eneas 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. 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? I mean, in a sort. Ant. That sort was well fished 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; And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed, 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 banished from your eye, Who has cause to wet the grief on't. Alon. Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. You were kneeled to, and importuned otherwise By all of us; and the fair soul herself Weighed, between loathness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost your son, I fear, forever; 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. The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, When you should bring the plaster. Seb. Ant. And most chirurgeonly. My lord Sebastian, Very well. Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. Seb. Ant. Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,- Seb. 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 Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, To feed my innocent people. Seb. No marrying among 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-? Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: 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 laughed 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. Seb. We would so, and then go bat-fowling. Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. 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: Will guard your person, while you take your rest, And watch your safety. Alon. Thank you: Wondrous heavy. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! Why Seb. Ant. Nor I; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropped, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; and Dropping upon thy head. Seb. What, art thou waking? Ant. Do you not hear me speak? I do; and, surely, It is a sleepy language; and thou speak'st With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, Ant. Noble Sebastian, Thou dost snore distinctly; Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st Seb. There's meaning in thy snores. Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you |