Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. 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? 80 Adr. Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. Gon. I assure you, Carthage. Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Seb. He hath raised 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, 90 and give it his son for an apple. Ant. And, sowing 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. Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. Ant. That sort was well fished for. 100 Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Fran. 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, Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted The surge most swoln that met him; his bold head As stooping to relieve him: I not doubt 121 No, no, he's gone. Alon. He came alive to land. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss, Alon. That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the grief on't. Prithee, peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importuned otherwise, lost your son, I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have 130 Mo widows in them of this business' making Than we bring men to comfort them: The fault's your own. Alon. So is the dear'st o' the loss. Gon. My lord Sebastian, Seb. The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaster. Ant. And most chirurgeonly. Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, Very well. 140 When you are cloudy. Seb. Foul weather? Ant. Very foul. Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, Ant. He'ld sow 't with nettle-seed. Seb. Or docks, or mallows. Gon. And were the king on 't, what would I do? Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contraries Execute all things; for no kind of traffic No sovereignty ; Seb. 150 Gon. All things in common nature should produce Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance, Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects? Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. Seb. To excel the golden age. Ant. Long live Gonzalo! 'Save his majesty! 160 And, do you mark me, sir? 170 Alon. Prithee, 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 used to laugh at nothing. Ant. 'Twas you we laughed at. Gon. Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing Ant. What a blow was there given ! Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would Enter Ariel (invisible) playing solemn music. Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. 180 Gon. No, I warrant you; discretion so weakly. for I am very heavy ? Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. I will not adventure my 190 [All sleep except Alon., Seb., and Ant. Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Seb. Ant. Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find Please you, sir, We two, my lord, Will guard your person while you take your rest, And watch your safety. Alon. Thank you.-Wondrous heavy. [Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! Ant. It is the quality o' the climate. Seb. Ant. Seb. Why Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not 200 Nor I; my spirits are nimble. They fell together all, as by consent; They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee; and My strong imagination sees a crown Dropping upon thy head. What, art thou waking? Ant. Do you not hear me speak ? |