Ant. That sort was well fished for.

Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?
Aion. 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 see 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 surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted

The surge most swoln that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke

To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bowed,
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 loss:
That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
But rather lose her to an African;

Where she, at least, is banished from your eye,
Who has cause to wet the grief on't.

Alon.

Seb.

Pr'ythee, peace.

You were kneeled to, and importuned otherwise

By all of us; and the fair soul herself

Weighed, between loathness and obedience, at

Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have lost your son, I fear, forever; Milan 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 dearest of the loss.

Gon.

The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in; you rub the sore,

When

Seb.

you should bring the plaster.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

My lord Sebastian,

Very well.

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,

When you are cloudy.

Seb. Ant.

Foul weather?

Very foul.

с

Gon. Had I a plantation of this isle, my lord,-
Ant. He'd sow it with nettle-seed.

Seb.
Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king of it, what would I do?
Seb. 'Scape getting 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:
No occupation; all men idle, all;

And women too; but innocent and pure:
No sovereignty :-

Seb.

And 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 endeavor: 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 foison, all abundance,

To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying among his subjects?

Ant. None, man; all idle; whores, and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age.

Seb.

Ant. Long live Gonzalo!
Gon.

'Save his majesty!

And, do you mark me, sir-? Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me. 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. Seb. We would so, and then go bat-fowling.

ACT II.]

THE TEMPEST.

Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry.

39

Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

[All sleep but ALON. SEB. and Ant.
Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find,
They are inclined to do so.

Please you, sir,
Seb.
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

Ant.

We two, my lord,

Will guard your person, while you take your rest,

And watch your safety.

Alon.

Thank you: Wondrous heavy.
[ALONZO sleeps. Exit ARIEL.

Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.

Seb.

Why

Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not
Myself disposed to sleep.

Ant.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble.

They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropped, as by a thunder-stroke.

What might,

Worthy Sebastian?-0, what might ?—No more ;-
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,

What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; and
My strong imagination sees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

Seb.

Ant.

Seb. It is

What, art thou waking?

Do you not hear me speak?

I do; and, surely, sleepy language; and thou speak'st

Out of thy sleep: What is it thou didst say?

This is

With

a strange repose, to be asleep eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep.

Ant.

Thou let'st thy fortune sleep—die rather; wink'st

Whiles thou art waking.

Seb.

Noble Sebastian,

Thou dost snore distinctly;

There's meaning in thy snores.

Ant. I am more serious than my custom: 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.

Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Ant.

Do so to ebb,

0,

If you but knew how you the purpose cherish,
Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do so near the bottom run,

By their own fear, or sloth.

Seb.

Pr'ythee, say on: The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed, Which throes thee much to yield.

Ant.

Thus, sir:

Although this lord of weak remembrance, this (Who shall be of as little memory,

When he is earthed,) hath here almost persuaded (For he's a spirit of persuasion, only

Professes to persuade) the king, his son's alive; 'Tis as impossible that he's undrowned,

As he that sleeps here, swims.

Seb.

That he's undrowned.

Ant.

I have no hope

O, out of that no hope

What great hope have you! no hope, that way, is
Another way so high in hope, that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with me,
That Ferdinand is drowned?

Seb.
Ant.

He's gone.

Then tell me,

Claribel.

Who's the next heir of Naples?

Seb.

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 new-born chins
Be rough and razorable: she, from whom

We all were sea-swallowed, 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

Measure us back to Naples?-Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake!-Say, this were death

That now hath seized them; why they were no worse
Than now they are: There be, that can rule Naples,
As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate
As amply, and unnecessarily,

As this Gonzalo; I myself could make

A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?
Seb. Methinks, I do.

Ant.

And how does your content Tender your own good fortune?

Seb.

I remember,

You did supplant your brother Prospero.

Ant.

True:

And, look, how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before: My brother's servants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.
Seb. But, for your conscience-

Ant. "Twould

Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe, put me to my slipper; but I feel not

This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they,
And melt, e'er they molest! Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,

Can lay

To the

If he were that which now he's like, that's dead; Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it, to bed forever: whiles you, doing thus, Perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel, this sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk; They'll tell the clock to any business that

We say Seb

befits the hour.

Thy case, dear friend,

Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st;
And I the king shall love thee.

Ant.

C*

Draw together: