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ACT II. SCENE I.

Enter Alonfo, Sebaftian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,
Francifco, and others.

Gonz. Behave we all) of Joy; for our Escape
Efeech you Sir, be merry: You have Cause,

Is much beyond our Lofs; our Hint of Wo
Is common, every Day, fome Sailor's Wife,
The Mafters of fome Merchant, and the Merchant
Have juft our Theam of Wo: But for the Miracle,
(I mean our Prefervation) few in Millions

Can fpeak like us: Then wifely, good Sir, weigh
Our Sorrow with our Comfort.

Alon. Prethee Peace.

Seb. He receives Comfort like cold Porridge.
Ant. The Vifitor will not give o'er fo.

Seb. Look, he's winding up the Watch of his Wit,
By and by it will strike.

Gen. Sir.

Seb. On: Tell.

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Grief is entertain'd

That's offer'd; comes to the Entertainer

Seb. A Dollor.

Gon. Dolour comes to him indeed, you have spoken truer than you purpos'd.

Seb. You have taken it wifelier than I meant you should.
Gon. Therefore, my Lord.

Ant. Fie, what a Spend-thrift is he of his Tongue?

Alon. I prethee fpare.

Gon. Well, I have done: But yet

Seb. He will be talking..

Ant. Which of 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 defert

Seb. Ha, ha, ha.

Ant

Ant. So: You're paid.

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inacceffible.

Seb. Yet.

Adr. Yet

Ant. He could not mifs't.

Adr. It must 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 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, fave Means to live.

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

Gon. How lush 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 doth but mistake the Truth totally. Gon. But the Rarity of it is, which is indeed almoft beyond Credit

Seb. As many voucht Rarities are,

f

Gon. That our Garments, being (as they were) drencht in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their Freshness and Glosses, 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 Affrick, 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.

Adri. Tunis was never grac'd 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?

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Good Lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, faid you? You make me ftudy of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

Gon. This Tunis, Sir, was Carthage,

Adri. Carthage.

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 Son for an Apple.

Ant. And fowing the Kernels of it in the Sea, bring forth more Iflands.

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 Didą.

Gon. Is not my Doublet, Sir, as fresh 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 Stomach of my Senfe. Would I had never
Married my Daughter there! For coming thence
My Son is loft, and, in my rate, she too,
Who is fo far from Italy removed,

I ne'er again fhall fee her: O thou mine Heir
Of Naples and of Millan, what strange Fish
Hath made his Meal on thee?

Fran. Sir, he may live,

I faw him beat the Surges under him,

And ride upon their Backs; he trod the Water,2

Whose Enmity he flung afide; and breasted,

The Surge moft fwollen that met him: His bold Head
'Bove the contentious Waves he kept, and oared
Himself with his good Arms in lufty Strokes
To th' Shore; that o'er his wave-worn Basis bow'd

As

As ftooping to relieve him: I not doubt
He came alive to Land.

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 lofe her to an Affrican;

Where the, at leaft, is banish'd from your Eye, }
Who hath Caufe to wet the Grief on't.

Alon. Prethee Peace.

Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise
By all of us: And the fair Soul her felf
Weigh'd between Loathnefs and Obedience, at

Which End o'th' Beam fhould bow. We have loft your Son
I fear for ever: Millan 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 dear'ft o' th' Lofs,

Gon. My Lord Sebastian,

The Truth you speak doth lack fome Gentleness
And Time to speak it in: You rub the Sore
When you fhould bring the Plaifter,

Seb. Very well.

Ant. And moft Chirurgeonly.

Gon. It is foul Weather in us all, good Sir,

When you are cloudy.

Seb. Foul Weather?

Ant. Very foul.

Gon. Had I the Plantation of this Ifle, my Lord.
Ant. He'd fow't wich Nettle-feed.

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'th' Commonwealth I would, by contraries,
Execute all things: For no kind of Traffick
Would I admit; no Name of Magistrate;
Letters fhould not be known; Riches, Poverty,
And use of Service, none; Contract, Succeffion,
Born, Bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none;
No ufe of Metal, Corn, or Wine, or Oyl;
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 his Commonwealth forgets the beginning.

Gon. All things in common Nature should produce
Without Sweat or Endeavour. Treafon, Felony,
Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or need of any Engine
Would I not have; but Nature should bring forth,
Of its own kind, all Foyzon, all Abundance
To feed my innocent People.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his Subjects?

Ant. None, Man; all idle; Whores and Knaves. Gon. I would with fuch Perfection govern, Sir, T'excell the Golden Age.

Seb. Save his Majefty.

Ant. Long live Gonzalo.

Gon. And do you mark me, Sir?

Alon. Prethee no more; thou doft talk nothing to me. Gon. I do well believe your Highness, and did it to minifter Occafion to these Gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble Lungs, that they always use to laugh at no¬ thing.

Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you: So you may continue, and laugh at nothing still, Ant. What a Blow was there given?

Seb. And it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon. You are Gentlemen of a brave Metal; you would lift the Moon out of her Sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.

Enter Ariel playing folemn Mufick

Seb. We would fo, and then go a Bat-fowling.
Ant. Nay, good my Lord be not angry.

Gon. No I warrant you, I will not adventure my Difcretion fo weakly: Will you laugh me asleep, for I am ve ry heavy.

Ant. Go fleep, and hear us.

Alon. What, all fo foon asleep? I wish mine Eyes would, with themselves, fhut up my Thoughts:

I find they are inclin❜d to do fo.

Seb. Please you, Sir,

Do

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