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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. |
ALONSO. Prithee, peace. |
SEBASTIAN. You were kneel'd to, and importun'd otherwise |
By all of us; and the fair soul herself |
Weigh'd between loathness and obedience at |
Which end o' th' beam should bow. We have lost your son, |
I fear, for ever. Milan and Naples have |
Moe widows in them of this business' making, |
Than we bring men to comfort them; |
The fault's your own. |
ALONSO. So is the dear'st o' th' loss. |
GONZALO. 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. |
SEBASTIAN. Very well. |
ANTONIO. And most chirurgeonly. |
GONZALO. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, |
When you are cloudy. |
SEBASTIAN. Foul weather? |
ANTONIO. Very foul. |
GONZALO. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord- |
ANTONIO. He'd sow 't with nettle-seed. |
SEBASTIAN. Or docks, or mallows. |
GONZALO. And were the king on't, what would I do? |
SEBASTIAN. Scape being drunk for want of wine. |
GONZALO. I' th' 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- |
SEBASTIAN. Yet he would be king on't. |
ANTONIO. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the |
beginning. |
GONZALO. 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 it own kind, all foison, all abundance, |
To feed my innocent people. |
SEBASTIAN. No marrying 'mong his subjects? |
ANTONIO. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. |
GONZALO. I would with such perfection govern, sir, |
T' excel the golden age. |
SEBASTIAN. Save his Majesty! |
ANTONIO. Long live Gonzalo! |
GONZALO. And-do you mark me, sir? |
ALONSO. Prithee, no more; thou dost talk nothing to me. |
GONZALO. 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. |
ANTONIO. 'Twas you we laugh'd at. |
GONZALO. Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to |
you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still. |
ANTONIO. What a blow was there given! |
SEBASTIAN. An it had not fall'n flat-long. |
GONZALO. 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 |
SEBASTIAN. We would so, and then go a-bat-fowling. |
ANTONIO. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. |
GONZALO. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my |
discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am |
very heavy? |
ANTONIO. Go sleep, and hear us. |
[All sleep but ALONSO, SEBASTIAN and ANTONIO] |
ALONSO. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes |
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts; I find |
They are inclin'd to do so. |
SEBASTIAN. Please you, sir, |
Do not omit the heavy offer of it: |
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth, |
It is a comforter. |
ANTONIO. We two, my lord, |
Will guard your person while you take your rest, |
And watch your safety. |
ALONSO. Thank you-wondrous heavy! |
[ALONSO sleeps. Exit ARIEL] |
SEBASTIAN. What a strange drowsiness possesses them! |
ANTONIO. It is the quality o' th' climate. |
SEBASTIAN. Why |
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not |
Myself dispos'd to sleep. |
ANTONIO. 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; th' occasion speaks thee; and |
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