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

Alon. 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. 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, 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?

Fran.

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.

Alon.

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.

Alon.

Pr'ythee, peace. Seb. You were kneel'd to, and impórtuned otherwise,

By all of us; and the fair soul herself

Weigh'd, between lothness and obedience, at
Which end o' the beam she'd bow.

lost your son,

We have

I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have

More widows in them of this business' making, Than we bring men to comfort them: the fault's Your own.

Alon.

So is the dearest o' the loss.

Gon.

My lord Sebastian,

The truth you speak doth lack some gentle

ness,

And time to speak it in ; you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaster.

Seb.

Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

Very well.

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

Seb.

Ant.

Foul weather?

Very foul.

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

Seb.

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:

Seb.

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 sweat or endeavour : treason, felony, Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,

Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects?

Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir, To excel the golden age.

Seb.

Ant. Long live Gonzalo !

Gon.

'Save his majesty !

And, do you mark me, sir?Alon. Pr'ythee, no more thou dost talk nothing to me.

Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use to laugh at nothing.

Ant. 'Twas you we laughed at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

Ant. What a blow was there given !

Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.

Enter ARIEL invisible, playing solemn music. Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

[All sleep but ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, and ANTONIO.

Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine

eyes

Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts:

I find

They are inclined to do so.

Seb.

Please you, sir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:

It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.

Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.

Why

Seb. Doth it not, then, our eyelids sink? I find not

Myself disposed to sleep.

Ant.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble.

They fell together all, as by consent;

They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What

might,

Worthy Sebastian ?-O, what might ?-No

more :

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

What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee; and

My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
Seb.

What, art thou waking?

Ant. Do you not hear me speak? Seb. I do; and surely It is a sleepy language; and thou speak'st Out of thy sleep: what is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep