Pros. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest Was in the wreck; and, but he 's something stain'd With grief that's beauty's canker, thou mightst call him A goodly person he hath lost his fellows And strays about to find 'em. Mir. Pros. [Aside] It goes on, I see, As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I'll free thee Fer. Mir. But certainly a maid. Fer. No wonder, sir; My language! heavens ! I am the best of them that speak this speech, How? the best? Pros. Mir. Alack, for mercy! Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords; the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain. Pros. 421 430 [Aside] The Duke of Milan And his more braver daughter could control thee, If now 'twere fit to do 't. They have changed eyes. I'll set thee free for this. At the first sight [To Fer.] A word, good sir; I fear you have done yourself some wrong: a word, Is the third man that e'er I saw, the first That e'er I sigh'd for: pity move my father To be inclined my way! Fer. O, if a virgin, And your affection not gone forth, I'll make you 440 Pros. Soft, sir! one word more. [Aside] They are both in either's powers; but this swift business I must uneasy make, lest too light winning 450 Make the prize light. [To Fer.] One word more; I charge thee That thou attend me: thou dost here usurp The name thou owest not; and hast put thyself From me, the lord on 't. Fer. No, as I am a man. Mir. There's nothing ill can dweй in such a temple : Pros. Follow me. 460 Speak not you for him; he's a traitor. Come; My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; Who makest a show but darest not strike, thy conscience Pros. Hence! hang not on my garments. I'll be his surety. Pros. 471 Beseech you, father. Sir, have pity; Silence! one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What! Thou think'st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench! And they to him are angels. Mir. My affections Are then most humble; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man. 480 So they are; Thy nerves are in their infancy again Fer. The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats, Pros. [Aside] It works. [To Fer.] Come on. My father's of a better nature, sir, Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted Pros. 400 Be of comfort; Thou shalt be as free Ari. To the syllable. Pros. Come, follow. Speak not for him. ACT II. SCENE I. Another part of the island. 500 [Exeunt. Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others. Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause, So have we all, of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common; every day some sailor's wife, The masters of some merchant and the merchant Alon. Prithee, peace. Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so. 10 Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike. Gon. Sir, Seb. One: tell. Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer Seb. A dollar. Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed. 20 Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should. Gon. Therefore, my lord,— Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue ! Alon. I prithee, spare. Gon. Well, I have done: but yet, Seb. He will be talking. Ant. Which of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first be gins to crow? Seb. The old cock. Ant. The cockerel. Seb. Done. The wager? Ant. A laughter. Seb. A match! Adr. Though this island seem to be desert, Seb. Ha, ha, ha! So you're paid. Seb. Yet, Adr. Uninhabitable and almost inaccessible, Ant. He could not miss't. Adr. Yet,- 30 40 Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate tem perance. Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly delivered. Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly. Seb. As if it had lungs and rotten ones. Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen. Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life. Ant. True; save means to live. Seb. Of that there's none, or little. Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! Ant. The ground indeed is tawny. Seb. With an eye of green in't. Ant. He misses not much. Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is,-which is indeed almost beyond credit. - Seb. As many vouched rarities are. Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold nothwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water. Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies? Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. 71 Seb. "Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return. Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen. Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow! a pox o'that! How came that widow in? widow Dido ! Seb. What if he had said "widower Eneas," too? Good Lord, how you take it! Adr. “Widow Dido" said you? you make me study of that she was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. Adr. Carthage? Gon. I assure you, Carthage. Seb. His word is more than the miraculous harp; he hath raised the wall and houses too. Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next? Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pocket and give it his son for an apple. 91 Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands. Gon. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your daughter, who is now queen. Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. Ant. 0, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido. 100 Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. Ant. That sort was well fished for. Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage? Alon. You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense. Would I had never Married my daughter there! for, coming thence, My son is lost and, in my rate, she too, Who is so far from Italy removed I ne'er again shall see her. 110 O thou mine heir Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish |