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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,
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together;
Sea-water fhalt thou drink, thy food shall be

The fresh-brook muscles, wither'd roots, and husks
Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

Fer. No,

I will refift fuch entertainment, till

Mine enemy has more power.

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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 fpirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's lofs, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, and this man's threats,
To whom I am fubdu'd, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prifon once a day
Behold this maid: all corners elfe o'th' earth
Let liberty make use of; fpace enough
Have I, in fuch a prison.

Pro. It works: come on.

Thou haft done well, fine Ariel: follow me.
Hark what thou elfe fhalt do 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.


Another Part of the Island.

[To Ariel.



Enter Alonfo, Sebaftian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,


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
Is common; every day, fome failor's wife,
The mafters of fome merchant, and the merchant
Have juft our theam of woe: but for the miracle,
(I mean our prefervation) few in millions

Can fpeak like us: then wifely, good Sir, weigh
Our forrow with our comfort.

Alon. Pr'ythee peace.

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.

Ant. The advifer will not give o'er fo.

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Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit, by

and by it will strike,

Gon. Sir.


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.
Gon. Therefore, my lord.

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

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.
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 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,

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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 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.
Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houfes too.

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. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Ant. O, widow Dido! ay, 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.
Alon. You cram these 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, she too,
Who is fo far from Italy remov'd,

I ne'er again fhall fee 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 furges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung afide; and breafted

The furge moft fwoll'n that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lufty strokes

To th' fhore; that o'er his wave-worn bafis 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 lofs,
That would not blefs our Europe with your daughter,
But rather lofe her to an African;

Where fhe, at least, is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't.

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,
Than we bring men to comfort them; the fault's
Your own.

Alen. So is the deareft of the lofs.


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