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

Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit, by and by it will strike.

Gon. Sir,

Seb. One:

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 you propos'd.

Seb. You have taken it wifelier than I meant you fhould.

Gon. Therefore, my lord,

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

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.

You cram thefe Words into my Ears against
The Stomach of my Senfe.

feems to Mr. Pope to have been an Interpolation by the Players. For my part, tho' I allow the Matter of the Dialogue to be very poor and trivial, (of which, I am forry to say, we don't want other Inftances in our Poet;) I cannot be of this Gentleman's Opinion, that it is interpolated, For fhould we take out this intermediate Part, what would become of thefe Words of the King?

Would I had never

Married my Daughter there!

What Daughter? and, where married? For it is from this intermediate part of the Scene only, that we are told, the King had a Daughter nam'd: Claribel, whom he had married into Tunis. 'Tis true, in a fubfequent Scene, betwixt Antonio and Sebaftian, we again hear her and Tunis mention'd: but in fuch a manner, that it would be quite obfcure and unintelligible without this previous Information. Mr. Pope's Criticism therefore is injudicious and unweigh'd. Befides, poor and jejune as the Matter of the Dialogue is, it was certainly defign'd to be of a ridiculous Stamp; to divert and unfettle the King's Thoughts from reflecting too deeply on his Son's fuppos'd Drowning,

Ant.

Adr. It must needs be of fubtle, tender, and delicato 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 grass 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 freshness 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. Ay, or very falfely pocket up his report.

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

i.

Seb.

Seb. 'Twas a fweet marriage,. and we profper well

in our return.

Adr. Tunis was never grac'd 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 study of that: fhe was 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 houses too.

Ant. What impoffible matter will he make easy next?

Seb. I think, he will carry this land, 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 Iflands..

Gon. Ay.

Ant. Why, in good time.

Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments feem now as freth, 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 beseech you, widow Dido.
Ant. O, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido!

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

Ant. That fort was well fish'd for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage. Alon. You cram thefe 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, the too; Who is fo far from Italy remov'd,

I ne'er again shall see her: O thou mine heir

Of

Of Naples and of Milan, what ftrange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?

Fran. Sir, he may live.

I saw him beat the furges under him,

And ride upon their backs; he trode the water;
Whose enmity he flung afide, and breasted
The furge moft fwoln that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lufty ftrokes
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 your felf for this great loss, That would not blefs our Europe with your Daughter, But rather lose her to an African;

Where she, at leaft, 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 her felf.

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 deareft o' th' lofs.

Gon. My lord Sebaftian,

The truth, you fpeak, doth lack fome gentleness,

And time to speak it in: you rub the fore,
When you fhould bring the plaifter.

Seb. Very well.

Ant. And moft 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 plantation of this ifle, my lord

Ant, He'd fow't with nettle feed,

Seb.

Seb. Or docks, or mallows.

Gon. And were the King on't, 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, none;
No ufe 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 fhould produce, Without fweat 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 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.

me.

Seb. Save his Majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo!

Gon. And, do you mark me, Sir?

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

Gon. I do well believe your Highness; and did it to minifter occafion to these gentlemen, who are of fuch fenfible 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; fo you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

Ant.