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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 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 fuch 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 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, 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 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, fowing the kernels of it in the fea, bring forth

more iflands.

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 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 first day I wore it? I mean, in a fort.

Ant. That fort was well fish'd for.

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

I ne'r again shall fee 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 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 most swoll'n that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty strokes
To th' fhore; 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 lofs,
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. Pr'ythee, peace.

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

By all of us : and the fair foul herself

Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at
Which end the beam should bow. We've lost your fon,

I fear, for ever : Milan and Naples have

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More widows in them of this business' making,

Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault's
Your own.

Alon.

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Ant. And most 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.

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 magiftrate;

Letters should not be known; wealth, poverty,
And use of service, 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 sov'reignty.

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

Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the begin

ning.

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 foifon, all abundance

To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?

Ant.

Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.
Gon. I would with such perfection govern, fir,

T'excell the golden age.

Seb. Save his majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo !

Gon. And, do you mark me, fir?

Alon. Pr'ythee, no more; thou dost talk nothing to me.

Gon. I do well believe your highness, and did it to minister occafion to these gentlemen, who are of fuch 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 [Enter Ariel playing folemn musick.

without changing.

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 difcretion

so weakly: will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go fleep, and hear us.

Alon. What, all so soon afleep? I wish mine eyes Would with themselves shut up my thoughts: I find,

They are inclin'd to do fo.

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 person, while you take your rest,

And watch your safety.

Alon. Thank you: wondrous heavy.

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[All sleep but Seb. and Ant.

Seb.

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

Seb. Why

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

Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble:

They fell together all as by consent;

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

Worthy Sebastian - O, what might ? - no more.

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

What thou should'st be: th'occasion 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'ft

Out of thy fleep: what is it thou didst say?

This is a strange repose, to be afleep

With eyes wide open: standing, speaking, moving;

And yet fo fast asleep.

Ant. Noble Sebastian,

Thou let'st thy fortune sleep; die rather: wink'st

Whilst 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, 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 so: to ebb

Hereditary floth instructs me.

Ant. O,

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

You

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