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Mira.

O dear father,
Make not too rash a trial of him, for
He's gentle, and not fearful*.
Pro.

What, I say,
My foot my tutor!-Put thy sword up, traitor;
Who nak'st a show, but dar’st not strike, thy con-

science
Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy wardt;
For I can here disarm thee with this stick,
And make thy weapon drop.
Mira.

Beseech you, father!
Pro. Hence; hang not on my garments.
Mira.

Sir, have pity;
I'll be his surety.
Pro.

Silence: one word more
Shail make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!
Au advocate for av impostor? hush !
Thou think'st, there are no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
To the most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.
Mira.

My affections
Are then most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.
Pro.

Come on; obey:

[To Ferd.
Thy nerves are in their infancy again,
And have no vigour in them..
Fer.

So they are:
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison, once a day,
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.
Pro.

It works: -Come on.

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• Frightful.

* Guard.

Thou bast done well, fine Ariel !-Follow me.

(To Ferd. and Mira. Hark, what thou else shalt do me. (To Ariel. Mira.

Be of comfort; My father's of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech; this is unwonted, Which now came from him. Pro.

Thou shalt be as free As mountain wiuds: but then exactly do All points of my command. Ari.

To the syllable. Pro. Come, follow: speak not for him. (Ereunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. Another part of the island.

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,

Francisco, and others.

Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have

cause

(So have we all) of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our loss: our hint of woe
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife,
The masters of some merchant, and the merchant,
Have just our theme of woe: but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.
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 entertain'd, that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer

wager, first

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 priythee, spare.
Gon. Well, I have done : but yet
Seb. He will be talking.
Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good

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,
Seb. Ha, ha, ha!
Ant. So, you've pay'd.
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 deJivered.

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 lusht and lusty the grass looks! how green!

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.

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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, al. most 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 dy'd, 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 grac'd before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow? a pox o' that! How came that wi. dow 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 liarp.
Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.

Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy bext?

Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple.

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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. 0, 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 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 Aung 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.
Alon.

No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great

loss; That would not bless our Europe with your daugh.

ter,

• Degree or quality.

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