Are then most humble: I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man.

Pro.

Thy nerves are in their infancy again,

Come on; obey: [To FERD.

So they are:

And have no vigour in them.

Fer. My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats, To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, Might I but through my prison once a day Behold this maid: all corners else o' th' earth Let liberty make use of; space enough Have I in such a prison. Pro.

It works. Come on.

Thou hast done well, fine Ariel !-Follow me.

Hark, what thou else shalt do me.

Mira.

My father's of a better nature, sir,

[To FERD. and MIR.

[To ARIEL.

Be of comfort.

Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted,
Which now came from him.

Pro.

Thou shalt be as free

As mountain winds: but then, exactly do

All points of my command..

Ari.

To the syllable.

[Exeunt.

Pro. Come, follow.-Speak not for him.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-Another part of the Island.
Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO,
ADRIAN, FRANCISCO and Others.

Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry: you have cause (So have we all) of joy, for our escape

Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe

Is common: every day, some sailor's wife,

The master1 of some merchant, and the merchant,
Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions

Can speak like us: then, wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.

Alon.

Pr'ythee, peace.

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.

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 dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed.

Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

Gon. Therefore, my lord,

Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! Alon. I pr'ythee, spare.

Gon. Well, I have done. But yet

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which, or1 he or Adrian, for a good wager,

first begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.

Ant. The cockrel.

Seb. Done. The wager?

Ant. A laughter.

Seb. A match.

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,-
Seb. Ha, ha, ha!

Ant. So, you're paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,-
Seb. Yet-

Adr. Yet

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. Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.

Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.

Seb. Of that there's none, or little.

1 of them: in f. e. Knight's edition reads, "of them."

Gon. How lush' and lusty the grass looks! how green! Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.

Seb. With an eye 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 dyed, 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 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 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 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.

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 mar

1 Juicy. 2 Slight shade of color.

riage 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 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'er again shall see 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 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 '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.

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 kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise

By all of us; and the fair soul herself

Weigh'd between lothness and obedience, as1

Which end o' the beam should' bow. We have lost

your son,

If ear, 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.

at in f. e. 2 She'd in f. e.

Gon.

My lord Sebastian,

The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in: you rub the sore,

When you should bring the plaster.

Seb.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

Very well.

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,

When you are cloudy.

Seb.

Ant.

Foul weather?

Very foul.

Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,—
Ant. He'd sow 't with neddle-seed.
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' the commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things, for no kind of traffic
Would I admit ; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil:
No occupation, all men idle, all;

And women, too, but innocent and pure.

No sovereignty :—

Seb. Yet he would be king on't.

Ant. The latter end of this 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 foisson, all abundance, To feed my innocent people.

2

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?

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

1 It is a nation, would I answer Plato, that hath no kinde of traffike, no knowledge of Letters, no intelligence of numbers, no name of magistrate, nor of politike superioritie; no use of service, of riches, or of povertie; no contracts, no successions, no dividences, no occupation but idle; no respect of kinred, but common, no apparel but naturall, no manuring of lands, no use of wine. corne, or mettle. The very that import lying, falshood, treason, dissimulations, covetousnes, envie, detraction, and pardon, were never heard of amongst them.-Montaigne, Florio's translation, 1603. 2 Plenty.