Hark what thou elfe fhaft do me. Mira. Be of comfort, My father's of a better nature, Sir, Pro. Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds; but then exactly do Pro. Come follow: fpeak not for him. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Another Part of the Ifland. Enter Alonfo, Sebaftian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francifco, and others. GONZAL O. ESEECH you Sir, be merry: you have cause (So have we all) of joy! for our efcape 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 Can fpeak like us: then wifely, goood Sir, weigh lon Exe Alon. Pr'ythee peace. t Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit, by and by it will strike. Gon. Sir. tell. Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's of fer'd; comes to the entertainer Seb. A dollor. Gon. Dolour comes to him indeed, you have 26fpoken truer than you propos'd. % Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you fhould. Gon. Therefore, my lord. 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 Ifland feem to be defart Seb. Ha, ha, ha. Ant. So you're paid. Adr. Uninhabitable, and almoft inacceffible • Seb. Yet. • Adr. Yet Ant. He could not miss't. E • Adr All this that follows after the words, Pr'ythee peace----to the words You cram these words, &c. feems to have been interpolated, (perhaps by the Players) the verses there beginning again; and all that is between in profe, not only being very im pertinent stuff, but most improper and ill-plac'd Drollery in the mouths of unhappy shipwreckt people. There is more of the fame fort interfpers'd in the remaining part of the Scene Adr. It muft needs be of fubtle, tender, and de licate temperance. Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a fubtle, as he most learnedly deliver'd. 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 almoft beyond credit Seb. As many voucht rarities are. Gon. That our garments being (as they were) drench'd in the fea, hold notwithstanding their freshnefs and gloffes, being rather new dy'd than ftain'd with falt water. • Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not fay he lies? Seb. Ay, or very falfely pocket up his report. "Gon. Methinks our garments are now as fresh 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 Eneas too? Good lord, how you take it! Adr. Widow Dido, faid you? you make me ftu dy eld dy of that: fhe was of Carthage, not of Tunis. • 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 easie • 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 mar riage of your daughter, who is now Queen. Ant. And the rareft that e'er came there. • Ant. That fort was well fish'd for. Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage. ng Who is fo far from Italy remov'd, I ne'er again fhall fee her: O thou mine heir 1 Fran. Sir, he may live. I faw him beat the furges under him, And ride upon their backs; he trode the water, The furge moft fwoll'n that met him: his bold head As ftooping to relieve him: I not doubt Alon. No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank your felf for this great lofs, That would not blefs our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an Affrican; Where fhe, at least, is banish'd from your eye, Alon. Pr'ythee peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise By all of us and the fair foul her felf Weigh'd between loathness 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 business' making, The fault's your own. Alon. So is the dear'ft o'th' lofs. Gon. My lord Sebaftian, The truth you fpeak doth lack fome gentleness Seb. Very well. Ant. And moft chirurgeonly. Gon. It is weather in us all, good Sir, Soudy. When you are Seb. Foul weather? Ant. Very foul, Gon. Had I the plantation of this ifle, my lord Seb. Or docks, or mallows Gon. And were the King on't, what would I do? No |