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My fpirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's lofs, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, and this man's threats,
To whom I am fubdu'd, were but light to me,
Might I but through my prifon once a day
Behold this maid: all corners elfe o'th' earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I, in fuch a prifon.

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,
Which now came from him.

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,
(I mean our preservation) few in millions
Can fpeak like us: then wifely, good Sir, weigh
Our forrow with our comfort.

Alon. Pr'ythee, peace. (7)

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The vifitor will not give o'er so.

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
The Stomach of my Sense.

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?
Ant. A laughter?

Seb. A match.

Adr. Though this ifland feem to be defert
Seb. Ha, ha, ha -So, you're paid.

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.
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. Bet
Ant. Or, as 'twere perfum'd by a fen.

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True, fave means to live.

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.
Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too.

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.
Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
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.

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Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage.
Alon. You cram these words into mine cars against
The ftomach 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,

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

Fran. Sir, he may live.

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

The furge most swoln that met him: his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lufty strokes

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 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,
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 speak, doth lack fome gentleness,
And time to speak it in: you rub the fore,

When you should bring the plaifter.

Seb. Very well.

Ant.

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