ACT II. SCENE I.

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian,
Francifco, and others.

Gonz.

B Eseech you Sir, be merry: You have Cause,

(So have we all) of Joy; for our Efcape

Is much beyond our Loss; our Hint of Wo
Is common, every Day, some Sailor's Wife,
The Masters of some Merchant, and the Merchant
Have just our Theam of Wo: 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.

Alon. Prethee Peace.

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

Seb. Look, he's winding up the Watch of his Wit,

By and by it will strike.

Gon. Sir.

Seb. 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 spoken truer

than you purpos'd.

Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

Gon. Therefore, my Lord.

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

Alon. I prethee spare.

Gon. Well, I have done: But yet

Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which of he, or Adrian, for a good Wager,

First 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 defert

Seb. Ha, ha, ha

Ani

Ant. 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 fubtle, tender, and delicate

Temperance.

Ant. Temperance was a delicate Wench.

Seb. Ay, and a subtle, 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, save Means to live.

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

Gon. How lush and lusty the Grafs looks?

How green?

Ant. The Ground indeed is tawny.

Seb. With an Eye of green in't,

Ant. He misses not much.

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Seb. No: He doth but mistake the Truth totally.

Gon. But the Rarity of it is, which is indeed almost be

yond Credit

Seb. As many voucht Rarities are,

Gon. That our Garments, being (as they were) drencht in the Sea, hold notwithstanding their Freshness and Gloffes, being rather new dy'd than stain'd with falt Water.

Ant. If but one of his Pockets could fpeak, 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 Affrick, at the Marriage of the King's fair Daughter Claribel, to the King of Tunis.

Seb. 'Twas a sweet Marriage, and we profper well in our Return.

:

Adri. Tunis was never grac'd before with such 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 said Widower Æneas too?

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Good

Good Lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? You make me study of

that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis.

Gon. This Tunis, Sir, was Carthage,

Adri. Carthage.

Gon. I assure you Carthage.

Ant. His Word is more than the miraculous Harp.
Seb. He hath rais'd the Wall, and Houses too.

Ant. What impossible matter will he make easie next?

Seb. I think he will carry this Island 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 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 Diao? Ay, Widow Dida.

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 Sense. Would I had never
Married my Daughter there! For coming thence
My Son is lost, and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy removed,

I ne'er again shall 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 saw him beat the Surges under him,
And ride upon their Backs; he trod the Water,
Whose Enmity he flung afide; and breasted
The Surge most swollen 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 stooping to relieve him: I not doubt
He came alive to Land.

Alon. No, no, he's gone.

Seb. Sir, you may thank your self for this great Loss,

That would not bless our Europe with your Daughter,

But rather lose her to an Affrican;

Where she, at least, is banith'd from your Eye, }
Who hath Cause 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 Loathness and Obedience, at

Which End o'th' Beam should bow. We have lost 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'st o'th' Lofs.

Gon. My Lord Sebastian,

:

The Truth you speak doth lack some Gentleness
And Time to speak it in: You rub the Sore

When you should bring the Plaister.

Seb. Very well.

Ant. And most 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 with 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 should not be known; Riches, Poverty,
And use of Service, none; Contract, Succession,
Born, Bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none;

No use of Metal, Corn, or Wine, or Oyl;
No Occupation, all Men idle, all,

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And Women too; but innocent and pure:

No Soveraignty.

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,
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 such 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 dost 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 Musick.

Seb. We would so, and then go a Bat-fowling.

Ant. Nay, good my Lord be not angry.

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

Ant. Go fleep, and hear us.

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Alon. What, all so soon asleep? I wish mine Eyes would,

with themselves, shut up my Thoughts:

I find they are inclin'd to do fo.

Seb. Please you, Sir,

Do

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