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 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. 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 be yond 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 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.' 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. 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, shę 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 Fran. Sir, he may live; I saw him beat the surges under him, And ride upon their backs; he trod the water, The surge most swoln that met him : his bold head To th' shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd, He came alive to land. Alon. No, no, he's gone. [1] Alluding to the wonders of Amphion's music. STEEVENS. 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 impórtun'd otherwise By all of us; and the fair soul herself Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at Which end o' th' beam she'd bow. 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. Very well. Ant. And most chirurgeonly. Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. Seb. Foul weather? Ant. Very foul. Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, Seb. Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king of it, What would I do? No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too; but innocent and pure : No sovereignty : Seb. And yet he would be king on't. [2] All this dialogue is a fine satire on the Utopian treatises of government, and the impracticable, inconsistent schemes, therein recommended. WARB. nothing ju. Tre THE Goa. 10. You: 5071 dut. Waar T Seb. An IIT lift the moon vir 12, five weeks when t Enter a ELA Seb. We wá S. Z Ant. Nay, good Y L Goa. Na, i wart VI cretion in wesity. very heavy? Ant. Go deep. Pr 195 ee: ANT. ng; eunt. lace. one. Alon. What al e con Would, with themselves, tu They are inclin 10 toe. Seb. Please von. ar. Do not omit the heavy fert It seldom visits sorrow, when I hark. 3letr, W. via ? have 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 impórtun'd otherwise By all of us; and the fair soul herself Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at Which end o' th' beam she'd bow. 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, Seb. Very well. Ant. And most chirurgeonly. Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, When you are cloudy. Seb. Foul weather? Ant. Very foul. Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, Seb. Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king of it, What would I do? Gon. I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things: for no kind of traffic Letters should not be known; no use of service, No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too; but innocent and pure : No sovereignty : Seb. And yet he would be king on't. [2] All this dialogue is a fine satire on the Utopian treatises of government, anti the impracticable, inconsistent schemes, therein recommended. WARB. |