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Seb. Done: the wager?
Ant. A laughter.
Seb. A match.
Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,-
Ant. So, you've pay'd.
Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,-
Ant. He could not miss it.
Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.
Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.
Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered.
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Seb. Of that there's none, or little.
Gon. How lush2 and lusty the grass looks! how
Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye3 of green in't.
Ant. He misses not much.
Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is (which is, indeed, almost beyond credit-)
Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are.
Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwithstanding, their freshness, and glosses; being rather new dy'd, than stain'd with salt water.
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
(1) Temperature. (2) Rank. (3) Shade of colour.
when we put them on first in Afric, 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 return.
Adr. Tunis was never grac'd 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 you take it!
Adr. Widow Dido, said 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, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.
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.
Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first
day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.1
Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.
Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?
(1) Degree or quality.
Alon. You cram these words into mine ears,
The stomach of my sense: 'would I had never
I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir
Sir, he may live; I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt,
He came alive to land.
No, no, he's gone.
Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great
'That would not bless our Europe with your daugh
But rather lose her to an African;
Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Pr'y thee, peace.
Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost
I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business' making,
Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.
My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
When you should bring the plaster..
Ant. And most chirurgeonly.
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.
Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.
And women too; but innocent and pure:
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,1 Would I not have; but nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foizon,2 all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.
Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?
Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age.
(1) The rack.
Ant. Long live Gonzalo !
'Save his majesty!
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 mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.
Enter Ariel, invisible, playing solemn music.
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.
All sleep but Alon. Seb. and Ant. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I
They are inclined to do so.
Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.
We two, my lord,
Will guard your person,
Thank you: wondrous heavy. [Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.