Prithee, peace.

SCENE I.-- Another part of the Island. 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,a and the merchant,
Have just our theme of woe: but for the miracle,
I mean our preservation, few in millions
Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh
Our sorrow with our comfort.

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. The visitor will not give him 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 dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you purposed. Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I


should. Gon. Therefore, my lord, Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue! Alon. I prithee spare.


a Merchant is here used for merchant-vessel-merchantman. Dryden employs it in a similar way:

“ As convoy ships either accompany or should accompany their merchants.The “ masters of some merchant” signifies, Therefore, the owners of some trading vessel; but in the second instance the "merchant” must mean the trader, whose goods are ventured in the merchantman,

Gon. Well, I have done : But yet---
Seb. He will be talking.

Ant. Which, ofa he, or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?

Seb. The old cock.
Ant. The cockrel.
Seb. Done: the wager?
Ant. A laughter.
Seb. A match.
Adr. Though this island seem to be desert, ---
Seb. Ha, ha, ha!
Ant. So, you ’re paid.
Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,-
Seb. Yet,
Adr. Yet;-
Ant. He could not miss it.

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.

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 't were perfumed by a fen. Gon. Here is everything 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. # The ordinary reading is which of them. The present form is quaint, but intelligible.

b These words, we think, belong to Sebastian. The wager is a laughter. Antonio bets that “the cockrel” will crow first. Adrian, the young man, does crow; upon which Sebastian laughs loudly, exclaiming “So you are paid.” Steevens proposes to read you've paid,” giving the words to Antonio, as in the original. We leave the text as we find it.

© Lush is affirmed by Henley to mean rank ; by Malone, juicy. We have still the low word lushy, as applied to a drunkard. d Eye of green_tinge-shade.

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 sca, hold, notwithstanding, 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


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.

Seb. ’T was 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 Æneas 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.
Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.
Seb. He hath rais'd 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.

Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.

Gon. Ay.
Ant. Why, in good time.

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.

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Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.
Seb. ’Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Ant. 0, widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.

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 fish'd 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. O thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee !

Sir, he may live;
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 stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve him ; I not doubt,
He came alive to land.

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.

Prithec, peace.
Seb. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise,
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weigh’d, between lothness and obedience, at
Which end othe beam she'd bow. We have lost your son,
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.

Very well.

Alon. So is the dearest of the loss.

My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in; you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.

Foul weather?

Very foul.
Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,–
Ant. He'd sow't with nettle-seed.

Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king of it, What would I do?
Seb. ’Scape being drunk, for want of wine.

Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate ;
Letters should not be known: riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none :
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil:
No occupation; all men idle, all;
And women too; but innocent and pure :
No sovereignty :-

Yet he would be king on 't. Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning

a We have given in an illustration a passage from Florio's · Montaigne,' which Shakspere unquestionably had before him when he wrote these lines. Malone and Steevens tell us the metre is here defective; and by a most ridiculous editorial licence Steevens sets about mending it upon the following principle :-“The words quoted from Florio’s translation instruct us to regulate our author's metre as it is exhibited in my text.” And this is the exhibition !

“ Letters should not be known; no use of service,
Of riches or of poverty; no contracts,
Succession, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none.'


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