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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 fith'd for.
Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage.]

Alon. You cram these words into inine ears against
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there! For, coming thence,
My son is loft ; and, in my rate, she too ;
Who is so far from Italy remov'do
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

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 strokes
To th’ shore ; that o'er his wave-worn bafis 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 foul herself
Weigh'd between lothness and obedience, at
Which end the beam should bow. We've lost your song
I fear, for ever : Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business' making,



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

Alon. So is the dearest oth' lofs.

Gon. My lord Sebastian,
The truth, you speak, doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in: you rub the fore,
When you should bring the plaister.

Seb. Very well.
Ant. And most 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 isle, my

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. Scapė being drunk, for want of wine.

* Gon. I'th'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; wealth, poverty, " And use of service, none ; contract, succession, “ 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.

Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning

Gon. All things in common, nature should produce, “ Without sweat or endeavour. Treason, 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 inconfitent Schemes therein recommended.

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

Seb. No marrying ʼmong his subjects ?
Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.

Gon. I would with such 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 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: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

Ant. What a blow was there given?
Seb. An it had not fallen fat-long.

Gon. You are gentlemen 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 solemn Mufick. Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Ant. Nay, my good 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 foyzon, all abundance.] foyzon signifies the great plenty of any thing.

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Alon. What all so soon asleep? I wish, mine eyes Would with themselves fhut up my thoughts: I 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 you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
Alon. Thank you : wond'rous heavy

[ All seep but Seb, and Ant. Seb. What a strange drowsiness poffefses them? Ant. It is the quality o'th' climate.

Seb. Why
Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not
Myself dispos’d to sleep.

Ant. Nor I, my spirits are nimble:
They fell together all as by consent,
They dropt 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 : th’occasion speaks 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, surely,
It is a Neepy 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 : ftanding, speaking, moving ;
And yet so fast asleep.

Ant. Noble Sebastian. Thou let'st thy fortune sleep: die rather: wink'st, Whilft thou art waking.



Seb. Thou doft 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. Do so: to ebb
Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Ant. O!
If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish,
Whilst thus you mock it ; how, in stripping it,
You more invest it: ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do fo near the bottom run,
By their own fear or Noth.

Seb. Pry'thee, 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
Profeffes to persuade) the King, his son's alive :
'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd,
As he, that sleeps here, swims.



which to do, Trebles thee ver.) i. e. follow my advice, and it will advance thy fortune to the height. So Fletcher in his noble Gentlemar,

I now see 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.

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