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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.

Seb. His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath raised the wall and houses too.

Ant. What impossible matter will he make

easy next?

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Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket and give it his son for an apple. 91

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.

Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. *

*Manner. Ant. That sort was well fished for. Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's mar

riage ? 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, t she too, Who is so far from Italy removed *Inclination. I10 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?


I21 *As with oars.


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 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

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.

Prithee, peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to and importuned

otherwise By all of us, and the fair soul herself Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at 130 Which end o' the beam should bow. We have

lost your son, I fear, for ever : Milan and Naples have Moe* widows in them of this business' making Than we bring men to comfort them: The fault's your own. Alon.

So is the dear'st o' 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.* *Surgeonly. 140

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.

Foul weather?

Very foul. Gon. Had I plantation* of this isle, my lord, Ant. He'ld sow't with nettle-seed. *Colonizing.




Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king on't, what would I do? Seb. 'Scape being drunk for want of wine. Gon. l the commonwealth I would by con

traries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic Would I admit; no name of magistrate; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty, And use of service, none; contract, succession, Bourn, bound of land, tilth,* vineyard, none; No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;

*Tillage. No occupation; all men idle, all; And women too, but innocent and pure; No sovereignty; Seb.

Yet he would be king on't. Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning. Gon. All things in common nature should pro

duce Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, 160 Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison,t all abundance, To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No-marrying 'mong his subjects ?
Ant. None, man; all idle: whores and knaves.
Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.

God save his majesty!
Ant. Long live Gonzalo!

And, -do you mark me, sir? Alon. Prithee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.

171 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!

180 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 a bat-fowling.

*Catching birds with a clap-net by night. 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 anı very heavy? Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

190 [All sleep except Alon., Seb., and Ant. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine

eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I

They are inclined to do so.

Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

We two, my lord,
Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.

Thank you. Wondrous heavy.

[ Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. Seb.

Why 200 Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not Myself disposed to sleep. Ant.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp'd as by a thunder-stroke. What

Worthy Sebastian? O, what might?-No more:-
And yet methinks I see it in thy face,
What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee,

My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.

What, art thou waking ?



Ant. Do you not hear me speak?

I do; and surely
It is a sleepy language and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep. Whāt is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.

Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die, rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. Seb.

Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores.

Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do
Trebles thee o'er.

Well, I am standing water.
Ant. I'll teach you how to flow.

Do so: to ebb
Hereditary sloth instructs me.

If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do so near the bottom run
By their own fear or sloth.

Prithee, say on:
The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
A matter from thee, and a birth indeed 230
Which throes* thee much to yield. *Agonizes.

Thus, sir:
Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earth’d, hath here almost persuaded, -
For he's a spirit of persuasion, only
Professes to persuade, -the king his son's alive,
'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd
As he that sleeps here swims.

I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.

0, out of that 'no hope' What great hope have you! no hope that way is Another way so high a hope that even 241 Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

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