The king my father wreck'd. Alack, for mercy! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain. Pros. [Aside] The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee, Make not too rash a trial of him, for If now 'twere fit to do't. At the first My foot my tutor? Fer. And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you The queen of Naples. Pros. Soft, sir! one word more. [Aside] They are both in either's powers; but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light. [To Fer.] One word more; I charge thee traitor; What? I say, Put thy sword up, Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! An advocate for an impostor! hush! Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench! To the most of men this is a Caliban That thou attend me: thou dost here And they to him are angels. usurp Mir. My affections The name thou owest not; and hast put Are then most humble; I have no ambi SCENE I. Another part of the island. Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others. Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you So have we all, of joy; for our escape 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. 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 prithee, spare. Gon. Well, I have done: but yet,— Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow? Seb. The old cock. Ant. The cockerel. Seb. Done. The wager? Ant. A laughter. Seb. A match! Adr. Though this island seem to be desert, Seb. Ha, ha, ha! So, you're paid. Adr. Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible, Seb. Yet,Adr. Yet, Ant. He could not miss't. 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 everything advantageous to life. Ant. True; save means to live. Ant. The ground indeed is tawny. 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 vouched rarities are. Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwith standing their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained 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! Adr. Widow Dido' said you? you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. Gon. I assure you, Carthage. Seb. His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath raised 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 marriage 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 fished for. Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good nothing to me. sir, When you are cloudy. Seb. Foul weather? Very foul. Ant. Ant. He'ld sow't with nettle-seed. Gon. And were the king on't, what 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; 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: treason, felony, Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing. Ant. 'Twas you we laughed 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. An it had not fallen flat-long. Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing. Enter ARIEL, invisible, playing solemn music. Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, Worthy Sebastian? O, what might? Professes to persuade,—the king his son's No more: And yet methinks I see it in thy face, What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination sees a crown What, art thou waking? It is a sleepy language and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep. Noble Sebastian, Ant. Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die, rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores. Ant. I am more serious than my cus tom: you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do Trebles thee o'er. Seb. Well, I am standing water. Ant. I'll teach you how to flow. Seb. Do so: to ebb Hereditary sloth instructs me. Ant. O, Who's the next heir of Naples ? Claribel. Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post The man i' the moon's too slow-till newborn chins Be rough and razorable; she that—from whom? We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge. Seb. What stuff is this! how say you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis; So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is some space. Ant. A space whose every cubit Seems to cry out, 'How shall that Claribel |