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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 prosper well in our


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

take it ! Adr. Widow Dido, faid 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 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 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. O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido !

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Gon. Is not my doublet, sir, as fresh as the first day I wore it?

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 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 remov’d,
I ne'r again shall see her: O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what ftrange fish
Hath made his meal on thee? :
Fran. Sir, he


live. I saw him beat the surges under him, And ride


their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he Aung aside; and breasted
The surge 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’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. Pr’ythee, peace.

Seb. You were kneeld to, and importun’d otherwise
By all of us : and the fair soul 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
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.

Gon. My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And th’time you speak it in: you rub the sore
When you should bring the plaister.

Seb. Very well.
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 isle, my lord -
Ant. He'd sow'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 magistrate;
Letters should not be known; wealth, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
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 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 foison, all abundance
To feed my innocent people.
Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects ?



me, sir?

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

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?
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 solemn mufick. Seb. We would so, 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 so weakly: will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

Alon. What, all so soon asleep? I wish mine eyes
Would with themselves shut up my thoughts: I find,
They are inclin’d to do so.

Seb. Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; 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.

[ All seep but Seb. and Ant.


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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 sleep.

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 - 0, what might?
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be: th'occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination fees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.

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

Seb. I do; and, surely,
It is a sleepy language, and thou speak’st
Out of thy sleep: what is it thou didst say?
This is a strange repose, to be asleep

wide open : standing, speaking, moving ;
And yet so 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 sloth instructs me.

Ant. 0,
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish,
Whilst thus you mock 'it; how in stripping it.

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