Mir. There's nothing ill can dwell in fuch a temple, If the ill fpirit have so fair an house, Good things will ftrive to dwell with't. Pro. Follow me. Speak you not for him: he's a traitor. Come, The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks Fer. No, I will refift fuch entertainment, till Mine enemy has more power. [He draws, and is charmed from moving, Mir. O dear father, Make not too rafsh a tryal of him; for He's gentle, tho' not fearful. Pro. What I fay, My foot my tutor? put thy fword up, traitor, Who mak'st a fhew, but dar'ft not ftrike; thy confcience Is all poffeft with guilt: come from thy ward, For I can here disarm thee with this stick, And make thy weapon drop. Mir. Befeech you, father. Pro. Hence: hang not on my garment. Mir. Sir, have pity; I'll be his furety. Pro. Silence: one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What, An advocate for an Impoftor? hush! Thou think'ft there are no more fuch fhapes as he, (Having feen but him and Caliban) foolish wench, To th' moft of men this is a Caliban, And they to him are angels. Mir. My affections Are then most humble: I have no ambition To fee a goodlier man. Pro. Come on, obey: Thy nerves are in their infancy again, And have no vigour in them. Fer. So they are: My My fpirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. Pro. It works: come on. Thou haft done well, fine Ariel: follow me. Mir. Be of comfort, My father's of a better nature, Sir, Than he appears by fpeech: 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 th' fyllable. Pro. Come follow speak not for him. ACT II. SCENE Another Part of the Island. [To Ariel. [Exeunt I. Enter Alonfo, Sebaftian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Gon. Francifco, and others. ESEECH you Sir, be merry: you have cause Bese have we all).of joy, for our clicage Is much beyond our lofs; our hint of woe Can fpeak like us: then wifely, good Sir, weigh Alon. Pr'ythee peace. Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Ant. The advifer 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 Scb. 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 fpoken truer than you propos'd. Seb. You have taken it wifelier than I meant you should. Ant. Fie, what a fpend-thrift is he of his tongue? 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 Island seem to be defart Seb. Ha, ha, ha. Ant. So you're paid. Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inacceffible Seb. Yet, Adr. Yet Ant. He could not mifs't. Adr. It muft 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 moft fweetly. 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 lufh 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 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? 3 Seb. Ay, or very falfely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks our garments are now as frefh as when we put them on firft 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 Æneas 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. Cartbage? Gon. I affure you Carthage. Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Ant. What impoffible matter will he make eafie next? Seb. I think he will carry this Ifland 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. Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Gon. Is not my doublet, Sir, as frefh as the first day I wore it? I mean in a fort. Ant. That fort was well fish'd for. Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage. I ne'er again fhall fee her: O thou mine heir Fran. Sir, he may live. I saw him beat the furges under him, The furge moft fwoll'n that met him: his bold head To th' fhore; that o'er his wave-worn bafis bow'd Alon. No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great lofs, Where fhe, at least, is banish'd from your eye, Alon. Pry'thee peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise By all of us: and the fair foul herself Weigh'd between loathnefs 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 bufinefs' making, Alen. So is the deareft of the lofs. Gen. |