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 the, at least, is banish'd from your Eye, } Alon. Prethee Peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwife 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 bufinefs 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 fpeak doth lack fome Gentleness 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. Seb. Or Docks, or Mallows. Gon. And were the King on't, what would I do? C 4 And '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 Seb. No marrying 'mong his Subje&s? 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 ftill, 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 fhe would continue in it five Weeks without changing. Enter Ariel playing folemn Mufick. Seb. We would fo, and then go a Bat-fowling. 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 Do not omit the heavy Offer of it: It feldom vifits Sorrow; when it doth, it is a Comforter. Alon. Thank [All fleep but Seb. and Ant. Seb. What a ftrange Drowfinefs poffeffes them? Ant. It is the Quality o'th' Climate. Seb. Why Doth it not then our Eye-lids fink? I find Ant. Nor I, my Spirits are nimble: What might, no more. What thou shouldft be: The Occafion fpeaks thee, and My strong Imagination fees a Crown Dropping upon thy Head. Seb. What, art thou waking? Ant. Do you not hear me speak? Seb. I do; and furely It is a fleepy Language, and thou speak'st Out of thy Sleep: What is it thou didst say? This is a strange Repofe, to be afleep With Eyes wide open: Standing, fpeaking, moving; Ant. Noble Sebaftian, Thou let'ft thy Fortune fleep; die rather: Wink'st Seb. Thou doft fnore diftinctly; There's Meaning in thy Snores. Ant. I am more ferious than my Cuftom. You Seb. Well: I am standing Water. Hereditary Sloth instructs me. Ant. O! If you but knew how you the Purpose cherish, Whilft thus you mock it; how in ftripping it Seb. Prethee fay on, The fetting of thine Eye and Cheek proclaim 'A Matter from thee; and a Birth, indeed, Which throws thee much to yield. Ant. Thus Sir: Although this Lord of weak Remembrance; this When he is earth'd, hath here almost perfuaded Seb. I have no Hope That he's undrown'd. Ant. O, out of that no Hope, What great Hope have you? No Hope that way, is Ambition cannot pierce a Wink beyond, But doubt Discovery there. Will you grant, with me, That Ferdinand is drown'd? Seb. He's gone. Ant. Then tell me who's the next Heir of Naples? Ant. She that is Queen of Tunis; the that dwells Ten Leagues beyond Man's Life; the that from Naples The Man i' th' Moon's too flow, 'till new-born Chins We all were Sea-fwallow'd, tho' fome caft again, Seb. What Stuff is this? How say you? 'Tis true, my Brother's Daughter's Queen of Tunis, So is the Heir of Naples, 'twixt which Regions There is fome Space. Ant ! Ant. A Space whose ev'ry Cubit As this Gonzalo; I my felf could make A Chough of as deep Chat; O, that you bore Ant. And how does your Content Seb. I remember You did fupplant your Brother Profpera. Ant. True: And look how well my Garments fit upon me, Ant. Ay, Sir; where lyes that? If 'twere a Kybe If he were that which now he's like, that's dead; Seb. Thy Cafe, dear Friend, Shall be my Prefident; As thou got'ft Millan, I'll come by Naples. Draw thy Sword, one Stroke And |