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ACT II. SCENE I.

Another Part of the Island.

Enter Alonfo, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,
Francifco, and others.

GONZALO.

ESEECH you Sir, be merry: you have cause
(So have we all) of joy; for our escape
Is much beyond our lofs; our hint of woe
Is common; every day, fome failor's wife,
The mafters of fome merchant, and the merchant
Have just our theam of woe: but for the miracle,
(I mean our preservation) few in millions

Can fpeak like us: then wifely, good Sir, weigh
Our forrow with our comfort.

Alon. Pr'ythee peace.

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. 'The adviser will not give o'er fo.

Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit, by

and by it will ftrike.

Gon. Sir.

Seb. On: tell.

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd; comes to the entertainer

Seb. A dollor.

Gon. Dolour comes to him indeed, you have spoken truer than he propos'd.

you

Seb. You have taken it wifelier than I meant fhould.
Gon. Therefore, my lord.

Ant. Fie, what a spend-thrift he is of his tongue?
Alon. I pr'ythee fpare.

C 4

5 The vifitor... old edit. Warb, emend.

Gon

Gon. Well, I have done: but yet-

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good wager, firft begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Ant. The cockrell.

Seb. Done: the wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match.

Adr. Though this Ifland feem to be defart

Seb. Ha, ha, ha.

Ant. So you're paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almoft inacceffible-
Seb. Yet,

Adr. Yet,

Ant. He could not mifs't.

Adr. It must needs be of fubtle, tender, and delicate temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.

Seb. Ay, and a fubtle, as he most learnedly deliver❜d.
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.

Ant. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a fen.

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.

Ant. True, fave means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none or little.

Gon. How lush and lufty the grafs looks? how green? Ant. The ground indeed is tawny.

Seb. With an eye of green in't.

Ant. He miffes not much.

Seb. No: he does but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit

Seb. As many voucht rarities are.

Gon. That our garments being (as they were) drench'd in the fea, hold notwithstanding their frefhnefs and gloffes, being rather new dy'd than ftain'd with falt water.

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

Seb.

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 fweet 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 Eneas too? Good lord, how you take it!

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

Gon. This Tunis, Sir, 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 eafie 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 fea, 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!

Gon. Is not my doublet, Sir, 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

The ftomach of my fenfe. Would I had never
Married my daughter there! for coming thence
My son is loft, and, in my rate, fhe too,
Who is fo far from Italy remov'd,

I ne'er again fhall 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 moft fwoll'n that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himfelf 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 fhe, at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath caufe 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 her self

Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at

Which end the beam fhould 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. So is the dearest of the lofs.

Gon. My lord Sebastian,

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

Seb. Very well.

Ant

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good Sir, 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 7 '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 use of service, none; contract, fucceffion,

8

Borne, 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

No Sov❜reignty.

pure:

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 fhould produce
Without fweat or endeavour. Treafon, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine
Would I not have; but nature fhould bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foyzon, all abundance
To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his fubjects?

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

T'excell the golden age.

Seb. Save his Majefty!

Ant: Long live Gonzala!

Gon. And do you mark me, Sir?

Ant: Pr'ythee no more; thou doft talk nothing to me.

6 plantation 7 on't, 8 vineyard, none;

Gon.

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