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 oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the 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 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 banish'd from your eye, Who hath cause to wet the grief on 't.

Alon,

'Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise

By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weigh'd, between loathness and obedience, at
Which end o' the beam she'd bow. We have
lost your son,

1

I fear, for ever; 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 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 plaster.

Seb.

Very well.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.
Gan, It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.

Seb.

Ant.

Foul weather?

Very foul.

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 traffick
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 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 foizon, 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,
To excel the golden age.

Seb.

'Save his majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo!
Gon.
And, do you mark me, sir?-
Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk no-
thing 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; 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: yon would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.

Enter ARIEL invisible, playing solemn 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 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:

Í find,

They are inclin❜d to do so.

Seb.
Please you, sir,
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

rest,

And watch your safety.

Alon.

you take

your

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 eyelids sink? I find not Myself dispos'd to sleep.

Ant.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble.

They fell together all, as by consent;

They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,

Worthy Sebastian?-O, 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.

What, art thou waking?

Ant. Do you not hear me speak? Seb. I do; and, surely, 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.

Ant.

Noble Sebastian,

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 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 thee.
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 earth'd,) 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 undrown'd,

As he that sleeps here, swims.

Seb.

That he's undrown'd.

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 a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

But doubts discovery there. Will you grant,

with me,

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 were all sea-swallow'd, though some cast again;

And, by that, destin'd 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 seiz'd them; why, they were no [Naples, Than now they are: There be, that can rule As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate As amply, and unnecessarily,

worse

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,

True:

You did supplant your brother Prospero.
Ant.
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. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe, "Twould 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, ere they molest! Here lies your brother,