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Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say, he lies?

Seb. Ay, or very falfely pocket up his report.

Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Africk, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis.

Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we profper well in our

return.

Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not fince widow Dido's time.

Ant. Widow? a pox o'that: how came that widow in ? widow Dido!

Seb. What if he had faid widower Eneas too? Good lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, faid you? you make me study of that: fhe was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

Gon. This Tunis, fir, was Carthage.

Adr. Carthage?

Gon. I affure you, Carthage.

Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.

Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houfes too.

Ant. What impoffible matter will he make eafy next?

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

Ant. And, fowing 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 feem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen.

Ant. And the rareft that e'er came there.

Seb. Bate, I befeech you, widow Dido.
Ant. O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido!

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Gon. Is not my doublet, fir, as fresh as the firft day I wore it? I mean, in a fort.

Ant. That fort was well fifh'd for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage.
Alon. You cram these words into mine ears against
The ftomach of my fenfe. Would, I had never
Married my daughter there! for, coming thence,
My fon is loft, and, in my rate, fhe too,
Who is fo far from Italy remov'd,

I ne'r again fhall fee her: O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what ftrange fish
Hath made his meal on thee? :

Fran. Sir, he may live.

I faw him beat the furges under him,

And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung afide; and breasted

The furge moft fwoll'n that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his, good arms in lufty strokes

To th' fhore; that o'er his wave-worn bafis bow'd
As ftooping 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 lofs,
That would not blefs our Europe with your daughter,
But rather lofe her to an African;

Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.

Alon. Pr'ythee, peace.

Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise

By all of us and the fair foul herself

Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at

Which end the beam should bow. We've loft your fon,
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.

Alon. So is the deareft of the lofs.

Gon. My lord Sebaftian,

The truth you speak doth lack fome gentleness,
And th' time you speak it in: you rub the fore
When you fhould bring the plaister.

Seb. Very well.

Ant. And moft chirurgeonly.

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

Seb. Foul weather?

Ant. Very foul.

Gon. Had I the planting of this ifle, my lord
Ant. He'd fow't with nettle-feed.

Seb. Or docks, or mallows.

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Gon. And were the king of it, what would I do?
Seb. Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
Gon. I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things: for no kind of traffick
Would I admit, no name of magistrate;

Letters fhould not be known; wealth, poverty,

And ufe of fervice, none; contract, fucceffion,

Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, olives, none;

No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oyl;

No occupation; all men idle, all,

And women too; but innocent and pure:

No fov❜reignty.

Seb. And yet he would be king on't.

Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.

Gon. All things in common nature should produce.
Without fweat or endeavour. Treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine
Would I not have; but nature fhould bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foifon, all abundance

To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his fubjects ?

Ant.

Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, T'excell the golden age.

Seb. Save his majefty!
Ant. Long live Gonzalo!

Gon. And, do mark
you

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Alon. Pr'ythee, no more; thou doft talk nothing to me. Gon. I do well believe your highness, and did it to minister occafion 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?

Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon. You are gentlemen of brave metal; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. [Enter Ariel playing folemn mufick.

Seb. We would fo, and then go a bat-fowling.

Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

Gon. No, I warrant you, I will not adventure my discretion

fo weakly: will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy ? Ant. Go fleep, and hear us.

Alon. What, all fo foon asleep? I wish mine eyes Would with themselves fhut up my thoughts: I find, They are inclin'd to do so.

Seb. Please you, fir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:

It feldom vifits forrow; when it doth,

It is a comforter.

Ant. We two, my lord,

Will guard your perfon, while you take your rest,

And watch your safety.

Alon. Thank you: wondrous heavy.

[All fleep but Seb. and Ant.

Seb.

Seb. What a strange drowsiness poffeffes them?
Ant. It is the quality o' th' climate.

Seb. Why

Doth it not then our eye-lids fink? I find not
Myself difpos'd to fleep.

Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble:

They fell together all as by confent;

They dropt as by a thunder-stroke. What might?

Worthy Sebaftian-O, what might?

And yet, methinks, I fee it in thy face,

no more.

What thou should'ft be: th' occafion speaks thee, and
My ftrong imagination fees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

Seb. What, art thou waking?
Ant. Do you not hear me speak?

Seb. I do; and, furely,

It is a fleepy language, and thou speak'st
Out of thy fleep: what is it thou didst say?

This is a strange repofe, to be afleep

With eyes wide open: ftanding, speaking, moving;
And yet so fast asleep.

fo

Ant. Noble Sebaftian,

Thou let'ft thy fortune fleep; die rather: wink'ft
Whilft thou art waking.

Seb. Thou doft fnore diftinctly;

There's meaning in thy fnores.

Ant. I am more serious than my cuftom. You

Must be fo, if you heed me; which to do,

Troubles thee not.

Seb. Well: I am standing water.
Ant. I'll teach you how to flow.
Seb. Do fo: to ebb

Hereditary floth instructs me.

If

Ant. O,

you but knew how you the purpose cherish, Whilft thus you mock it; how in stripping it.

You

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