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Can speak like us; then wisely, good Sir, weigh
Alon. Prythee, peace.
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. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?
Seb. The old cock.
Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and deli-
Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly deliver'd.
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Gon. How lush * and lusty the grass looks ? how green?
Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
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 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 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. 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
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 removed, 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 tlie 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, Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.
Alon. Prythee, peace,
Seb. You were kneeld to, and importuned otherBy 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.
Seb. Very well.
• Degree or quality,
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
Seb. Foul weather?
Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
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 ?
Seb. 'Save his majesty!
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 !
would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would
Enter Ariel invisible, playing solemn music.
Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my
[All sleep but Alon. Seb. and Ant.
Seb. Please you, sir,
Ant. We two, my lord,
[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.
Ant. Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
(and Dropping upon thy head.
Seb. What, art thou waking?
Seb. I do; and, surely,
A Noble Sebastian,
Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly ;