My fpirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. Pro. It works: come on. (Thou hast done well, fine Ariel :) follow me. Hark, what thou else shalt do me. Mira. Be of comfort, My father's of a better nature, Sir, Than he appears by fpeech: this is unwonted, Pro. Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds; but then exacly do All points of my command. Ari. To th' fyllable. Pro. Come, follow: fpeak not for him. [To Ariel, [Exeunt. A C T II. SCENE, Another Part of the Island. Enter Alonfo, Sebaftian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, B Francifco, and others. GONZAL O. ESEECH you, Sir, be merry: you have caufe (So have we all) of joy! for our escape Is much beyond our lofs: our hint of woe Is common every day, fome failor's wife, The masters of fome merchant, and the merchant, Have juft our theme of woe: but for the miracle, Alon. Pr'ythee, peace. (7) Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. 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 dollor. Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you propos'd. (7) Alon. Pr'ytbee, peace.] All that follows from hence to this fpeech of the King's, You cram thefe Words into my Ears againf feems to Mr. Pope to have been an Interpolation by the Players. For my part, tho I allow the Matter of the Dialogue to be very poor and trivial, (of which I am forry to fay, we don't want other Inftances in our Poet ;) I cannot be of this Gentleman's Opinion, that it is interpolated. For fhould we take out this intermediate Part, what would become of these words of the King? Would I bad never Married my Daughter there! What Daughter? and where married? For it is from this intermediate Part of the Scene only, that we are told, the King had a Daughter named Claribel, whom he had married into Tunis. 'Tis true, in a fubfequent Scene, betwixt Anthonio and Sebaftian, we again hear her and Tunis mentioned: but in fuch a manner, that it would be quite obfcure and unintelligible without this previous Information. Mr. Pope's Criticism therefore is injudicious and unweighed. Befides, poor and jejune as the matter of the Dialogue is, it was certainly defigned to be of a ridiculous Stamp; to divert and unfettle the King's Thoughts from reflecting too deeply on his Son's fuppofed Drowning. Seb. Seb. You have taken it wifelier than I meant you fhould. Gon. Therefore, my lord, Ant. Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue! Alon. I pr'ythee, fpare. Gon. Well, I have done: but Seb. He will be talking.. yet Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a good wager, firft begins to crow? Seb. The old cock. Ant. The cockrel. Seb. Done: the wager? Seb. A match. Adr. Though this ifland feem to be defert Adr. Uninhabitable, and almoft inacceffible. Seb. Yet Adr. Yet Ant. He could not mifs't. Adr. It must needs be of fubtle, tender, and delicate temperance. Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. Seb. Ay, and a fubtle, as he most learnedly deliver'd. Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life. Seb. Of that there's none or little. 1 Gon. How lush and lufty the grafs looks ? how green Ant. The ground indeed is tawny. Seb. With an eye of green in't. Ant. He miffes not much. Seb. No: he does but miftake the truth totally. Gon. But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit Seb. As many voucht rarities are. Gon. That our garments being (as they were) drench'd in the fea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and gloffes: gloffes; being rather new dy'd, than ftain'd with falt water. Ant. If but one of his packets could fpeak, would it not fay, he lies ? Seb. Ay, or very falfely pocket up his report. Gon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Africk, at the marriage of the King's fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis. Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we profper well in our return. Adr. Tunis was never grac'd before with such a paragon to their Queen. Gon. Not fince widow Dido's time. Ant. Widow, a pox o'that: how came that widow in widow Dido! Seb. What if he had faid, widower Æneas too? Good Lord, how you take it! Adr. Widow Dido faid you? you make me ftudy of that: fhe was of Carthage, not of Tunis. Gon. This Tunis, Sir, was Carthage. Adr. Carthage? Gon. I affure you, Carthage. Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp. Ant. What impoffible matter will he make easy next? Seb. I think, he will carry this Iland home in his pocket, and give it his fon for an apple. Ant. And fowing the kernels of it in the fea, bring forth more islands. Gon. Ay. Ant. Why, in good time. Gon. Sir, we were talking, that our garments feem 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. 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. 1 ne'er again fhall fee her: O thou mine heir Fran. Sir, he may live. I faw him beat the furges under him, The furge most swoln that met him: his bold head To th' fhore; that o'er his wave-worn bafis bow'd, 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 lofe her to an African; Where fhe, at leaft, is banish'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 fhould bow. We've lost your fon, I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this bufinefs' making, The fault's your own. Alon. So is the deareft o'th' lofs. Gon. My lord Sebaftian, The truth, you speak, doth lack fome gentleness, When you should bring the plaifter. Seb. Very well. Ant. |