Ant. O, widow. Dido! ay, widow Dido!

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 fenfe. Would I had never
Married my daughter there! For, coming thence,
My fon is loft; and, in my rate, she too;
Who is fo far from Italy remov'd,

I ne'er again fhall fee her: O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what ftrange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?

Fran. Sir, he may live.

I saw him beat the furges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water;
Whose enmity he flung afide, and breasted

The furge moft fwoln that met him: his bold head
"Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in luffy ftrokes

To th' fhore; that o'er his wave-worn bafis bow'd,
As ftooping 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 lofs, That would not blefs our Europe with your daughter, But rather lose her to an African;

Where fhe, at leaft, is banifh'd from your eye,
Who hath caufe 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 foul herself

Weigh'd between lothness and obedience, at

Which end the beam should bow. We've lost your fon, I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have

More widows in them of this bufinefs' making,

VOL. I.

D

Than

Than we bring men to comfort them:
The fault's your own.

Alon. So is the deareft o' th' lofs.
Gon. My lord Sebaftian,

The truth, you fpeak, doth lack fome gentleness,
And time to speak it in: you rub the fore,
When you should bring the plaifter.

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-
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.

8 Gon. "I' th' commonwealth; I would by contraries "Execute all things: for no kind of traffick "Would I admit; no name of magistrate; "Letters fhould not be known; wealth, poverty, "And ufe of fervice, none; contract, fucceffion, "Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; "No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oyl; "No occupation, all men idle, all,

"And women too; but innocent and pure : "No Sov'reignty.

Seb. And yet he would be King on't.

8

Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.

"Gon. All things in common, nature should produce, "Without fweat or endeavour. Treafon, felony,

8 The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.] All this Dialogue is a fine Satire on the Utopean Treatises of Government, and the impracticable inconfiftent Schemes therein recommended.

“Sword,

"Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, "Would I not have; but nature fhould bring forth, "Of its own kind, 9 all-foyzon, all abundance "To feed my innocent People.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his fubjects?

Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. Gon. I would with fuch perfection govern, Sir, T'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 doft talk nothing

to me.

Gon. I do well believe your Highness; and did it to minifter occafion to thefe 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 ftill,

Ant. What a blow was there given?

Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon. You are gentlemen of brave metal; you would lift the moon out of her fphere, 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.
Ant. Nay, my good lord, be not angry.

Gon. No, I warrant you, I will not adventure my difcretion fo weakly: will you laugh me afleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go, fleep, and hear us.

9 all foyzon, all abundance.] foyzon fignifies the great plenty of any thing.

Alon. What all fo foon afleep? I wifh, mine eyes Would with themselves fhut up my thoughts: I find, They are inclin'd to do fo.

Seb. Please you, Sir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:

It feldom vifits forrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

Ant. We two, my lord,

Will guard your perfon, while you take
And watch your safety.

Alon. Thank you: wond'rous heavy

your reft,

[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 not
Myfelf difpos'd to fleep.

Ant. Nor I, my fpirits are nimble:

They fell together all as by confent,

They dropt as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebaftian -O, what might no more.

And yet, methinks, I fee it in thy face,

What thou fhould'ft be: th' occafion speaks thee, and My strong imagination fees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

Seb. What, art thou waking?
Ant. Do you not hear me fpeak?
Seb. I do; and, furely,

It is a fleepy language; and thou speak'st
Out of thy fleep; what is it thou didst say?

This is a strange repofe, to be afleep

With eyes wide open: ftanding, fpeaking, moving;
And yet so fast asleep.

Ant. Noble Sebaftian.

Thou let'ft thy fortune fleep: die rather: wink'st,
Whilft thou art waking.

Seb.

Seb. Thou doft fnore diftinctly; There's meaning in thy fnores.

Ant. I am more serious than my cuftom. 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. Do fo: to ebb

Hereditary floth inftructs me.
Ant. O!

If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish,
Whilft thus you mock it; how, in ftripping it,
You more inveft it: ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do fo near the bottom run,
By their own fear or floth.

Seb. Pry'thee, fay 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 fhall be of as little memory,

When he is earth'd ;) hath here almost perfuaded
(For he's a spirit of perfuafion, only
Profeffes to perfuade) the King, his fon's alive:
'Tis as impoffible that he's undrown'd,

As he, that fleeps here, fwims.

1 which to do, Trebles thee o'er.] i. e. follow my advice, and it will advance thy fortune to the height. So Fletcher in his noble Gentleman,

I now fee your Father's honours
Trebling upon you

And again in his Maid of the Mill,

How did you bear her lofs?

With thy grief trebled.

Yet the Oxford Editor alters it to, Troubles thee not.