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 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.
Gox. 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 use of service, none; contract, fucceffion,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No ufe 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 fweat or endeavour. Treafon, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
Would I not have; but nature fhould bring forth,
Of its own kind, 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 such perfection govern, Sir, T'excel the golden age.

Seb. Save his Majefty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo !

Gon. And, do you mark me, Sir?

me.

Alon. Pr'ythee, no more; thou doft talk nothing to

Gon. I do well believe your Highness; and did it to minifter occafion to these gentlemen, who are of fuch fenfible

Č 2

fenfible 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 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 asleep, for I am very heavy ?

Ant. Go, fleep, and hear us.

Alon. What all fo foon afleep? I wish, 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 your reft,

And watch your fafety.

Alon. Thank you: wond'rous heavy

[All fleep but Seb. and Ant,

Seb. What a ftrange drowfinefs poffeffses them ?

Ant. It is the quality o' th' climate.

Seb. Why

Doth it not then our eye-lids fink? I find not
My felf difpos'd to fleep.

Ant. Nor I, my fpirits are nimble:

They fell together all as by confent,

They dropt as by a thunder-ftroke. What might,

Worthy Sebaftian -O, what might

- no more.

And

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

What thou should't be: th' occafion speaks thee, and

My ftrong imagination fees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

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

It's 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 fo faft afleep.

Ant. Noble Sebaftian,

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

Seb. Thou doft fnore distinctly;

There's meaning in thy fnores.

Ant. I am more ferious than my cuftom. You Muft be fo too, if heed me; which to do,

Trebles thee o'er. (8)

Seb. Well I am ftanding water.

Ant. I'll teach you how to flow.
Seb. Do fo: to ebb

Hereditary floth instructs me.
Ant. O!

If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish,
Whilft thus you mock it; how, in stripping it,
You more inveft it, ebbing men, indeed,

Moft often do fo near the bottom run,

By their own fear or floth.

Seb. Pry'thee, fay on;

The fetting of thine eye and cheek proclaim

(8) Trebles thee o'er.] i. c. makes thee thrice what thou now art. Thus the two firft Folio's, and all the other Impreffions of any Authority, that I have feen, exhibit the Text: and the Phrafe is familiar both to our Poet, and other Stage Writers of his Time.

Troubles thee o'er is a foolish Reading, which, I believe, firft got Birth in Mr. Pope's two Editions of our Poet; and, I dare fay, will lie buried there in a proper Obfcurity.

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.

Seb. I have no hope, That he's undrown'd.

Ant. O, out of that no hope,

What great hope have you? no hope, that way, is
Another way fo high an hope, that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

But doubt difcovery there. Will you grant, with me,
That Ferdinand is drown'd?

Seb. He's gone.

Ant. Then tell me

Who's the next heir of Naples?

Seb. Claribel..

Ant. She that is Queen of Tunis ; fhe that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; fhe that from Naples Can have no note, unless the fun were poft,

(The man i' th' moon's too flow) 'till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable; fhe, from whom

We were fea-fwallow'd; tho' fome, cast again,
May by that deftiny perform an act,

Whereof, what's paft is prologue; what to come,
Is yours and my discharge

Seb. What ftuff is this? how fay you?

'Tis true, my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis, So is the heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions There is fome fpace.

Ant. A fpace, whofe ev'ry cubit

Seems to cry out, how fhall that Claribel
Meafure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebaftian wake. Say, this were death

That now hath feiz'd them, why, they were no worse

Than

Than now they are: there be, that can rule Naples,
As well as he that fleeps; lords that can prate
As amply, and unneceffarily,

As this Gonzalo; I myself could make

A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do; what a fleep was 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,

You did fupplant your brother Profp'ro.
Ant. True

And, look, how well my garments fit upon me ;
Much feater than before. My brother's fervants
Were then my fellows, now they are my men.
Seb. But, for your confcience

Ant. Ay, Sir; where lyes that?

If 'twere a kybe, 'twould put me to my flipper:
But I feel not this deity in my bofom.

Ten confciences, that stand 'twixt me and Milan,
Candy'd be they, and melt, e'er they moleft!
Here lyes your brother

No better than the earth he lyes upon,

If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;
Whom I with this obedient fteel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever: you doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for ay might put
This ancient Morfel, this Sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take fuggeftion, as a cat laps milk;
They'll tell the clock to any bufinefs, that,
We fay, befits the hour.

Seb. Thy cafe, dear friend,

Shall be my precedent: as thou got'ft Milan,

I'll come by Naples. Draw thy fword; one ftroke Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'ft; And I the King fhall love thee.

Ant. Draw together:

And when I rear my hand, do you the like