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Of its own kind, all 9 foyzon, all abundance
Seb. No marrying ʼmong his subjects ?.
Alon. Prythee, 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 laugh’d at. Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you; fo you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.
Ant. What a blow was there given ? Seb. An it had not fallen flat-lony. Gon. You are gentiezien of 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.
Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my
[Gonz. Adr. Fra. &c. sleep. Alon. What, all so soon aileep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find, They are inclin’d to do so.
9 -all foyzon,-) Foison or foizon fignifies plenty, ubertas, not moisture, or juice of grass or other herbs, as Mr. Pope says.
Seb. Please you, Sir,
Ant. We two, my lord,
[All seep but Seb. and Ant. Seb. What a strange drowsiness poffefses them? Ant. It is the quality o’the climate.
Ant. Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
Seb. What, art thou waking ?
Seb. I do; and, surely,
Ant. Noble Sebastian,
Seb. Thou doft snore distinctly ;
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 ftanding water.
Seb. Do fo: to ebb
Seb. Pr’ythee, say on:
Ant. Thus, Sir:
For he's a spirit of persuasion, only
Seb. I have no hope
Ant. O, out of that no hope,
1-this lord of weak remembrance,-] This lord, who, being now in his dotage, has outlived his faculty of remembering; and who, once laid in the ground, shall be as little remembered himself, as he can now remember other things. JOHNSON.
2 For he's a spirit of perfuafon, Of this entangled fentence I can draw no lenfe from the present reading, and there. fore imagine that the author gave it thus :
· For he, a spirit of persuasion, only
Profeses to persuade. Of which the meaning may be either, that he alone, who is a Spirit of persua,kon, profelles to persuade the king ; or that, He only profelles to persuade, that is, without being so persuaded himfelf, he makes a show of persuading the king. Johnson.
Another way so high an hope, that even
Seb. He's gone.
Ant. Then, tell me
Ant. She that is queen of Tunis ; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life ; 4 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 were all sea-swallow'd, 5 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.
3 a wink beyond,] That this is the utmost extent of the prospect of ambition, the point where the eye can pass no further, and where objects lose their distinctness, so that what is there discovered, is faint, obscure, and doubtful. Johnson. A he that from Naples
Can have no note, &c.] Shakespeare's great ignorance of geography is not more confpicuous in any instance than in this, where he supposes Tunis and Naples to have been at such an immeasurable distance from cach other. STEEVENS, 5 These lines stand in the old edition thus :
though fome cast again;
In your and my dijcharge. The reading in the later editions is without authority. The old text may very well stand, except that in the last line in should be is, and perhaps we might better say and that by defiiny. It being a common plea of wickedness to call temptation destiny. JOHNSON. The modern editors publihed,
Is yours and my discharge. I think we may safely retain the old reading in the last hemiftich.
what is yet to come,
In yours and my discharge. j.e. Depends on what you and I are to perform. ST E EVENS..
Seb. What stuff is this? How say you?
Ant. A space, whose every cubit
Seb. Methinks, I do.
Ant. And how does your content
Seb. I remember,
Ant. True :
Seb. But, for your conscience
Ant. Ay, Sir, where lies that? if it were a kybe, 'Twould put me to my lipper; but I feel not This deity in my bosom. Twenty consciences, That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candy'd be they, 7 Or melt e'er they molest. Here lies your brother,
k ep in Tunis.] There is in this paffuge a propriety lost, which a flight alteration will restore :
Sleep in Tunis,
Would melt e'er they moleft.