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I fear, you have done yourself some wrong :
word. Mir. Why speaks my father so umgently? This Is the third man that e'er I saw; the first That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father To be inclined my way! Fer.
O, if a virgin, And
your affection not gone forth, I 'll make you The queen of Naples. Pro.
Soft, sir; one word more.They are both in either's powers: but this swift
business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning [aside. Make the prize light.--One word more; I charge
No, as I am a man.
Follow me.-[to Fer.
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.
[he draws. Mir.
O dear father,
What, I say,
'Beseech you, father! Pro. Hence! hang not on my garments. Mir.
Sir, have pity; I'll be his surety. Pro.
Silence: one word more
2 Desist from any hope of awing me by that posture of defence.
To see a goodlier man.
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.-Thou hast done well, fine Ariel !-Follow me.
[to Fer. and Mir. Hark, what thou else shalt do me.
[to Ariel. Mir.
Be of comfort;
Thou shalt be as free
To the syllable.
ACT I I.
Another part of the island. Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO,
ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others. Gon. 'Beseech you, sir, be merry: you
have (So have we all) of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss : Our hint of woe 1 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.
Seb. A dollar.
· The cause that fills our minds with grief.
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, ana delicate temperance.1
Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.
Seb. Ay, and a subtle, as he most learnedly delivered.