I'll fet thee free for this.A word, good Sir, Fer. O, if a Virgin, And your Affection not gone forth, I'll make you Pro. Soft, Sir; one word more. They're both in either's power: but this fwift bufinefs I must uneafy make, left too light winning [Afide. Make the prize light.-Sir, one word more; I charge thee, That thou attend me :-thou dost here ufurp From me, the lord on't. Fer. No, as I'm a man. Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. If the ill fpirit have fo fair an house, Good things will ftrive to dwell with't. Pro. [To Ferd.] Follow me [To Mirand.] Speak not you for him; he's a traitor Come, I'll manacle thy neck and feet together; Sea-water fhalt thou drink; thy food fhall be The fresh-brook mufcels, wither'd roots, and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow. Fer. No, I will refift fuch entertainment, 'till Mine enemy has more power. [He draws, and is charm'd from moving. Mira. O dear father, Make not too rafh a tryal of him; for He's gentle, and not fearful. Pro. What I fay, My foot my tutor? put thy fword up traitor, Who mak'st a fhew, but dar'ft not ftrike; thy con science Is fo poffeft with guilt: come from thy ward, 4 Mira. Befeech you, father, Pro. Hence: hang not on my garment. I'll be his furety. Pro. Silence: one word more Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What, Thou think'it, there are no more fuch fhapes as he, And they to him are angels. Mira. My affections Are then moft humble: I have no ambition To fee a goodlier man. Pro. Come on, obey; [To Ferdinand.] Thy nerves are in their infancy again, And have no vigour in them. Fer. So they are: My fpirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. The wreck of all my friends, and this man's threats, Pro. It works: come on. [To Ariel] Thou haft done well, fine Ariel! follow me. Hark, what thou elfe fhalt do me. Mira. Be of comfort, My father's of a better nature, Sir, 4 Defift from any hope of awing me by that pofture of defence. Than Than he appears by fpeech: this is unwonted, Pro. Thou shalt be as free As mountain winds; but then exactly do All points of my command. Ari. To th' fyllable. fpeak not for him. Pro. [To Ferdinand.] Come, follow: [To Mir.] [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I. Another Part of the Ifland. Enter Alonzo, Sebaftian, Anthonio, Gonzalo, Adrian, Francifco, and others. BE GONZAL O. ESEECH you, Sir, be merry: you have cause Is much beyond our lofs: our hint of woe 5 Can fpeak like us: then wifely, good Sir, weigh Alon. Pr'ythee, peace. 5 Hint is that which recals to the memory. The caufe that fills our minds with grief is com. mon. Dr. Warburton reads fint of woe. 6 Seb. 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, I cannot be of opinion, that it is interpolated. For fhould we take out this intermediate Part, what would become of thefe Words of the King? -Would I had never Married my Daughter there! W'bat 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 fpoken truer than you purposed. Seb. You have taken it wifelier than I meant you fhould. Gon. Therefore, my lord, Ant. Fie, what a fpend-thrift is he of his tongue! Alon. I pr'ythee, fpare. Gon. Well, I have done: but yet Seb. He will be talking. Ant. Which of them, 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. Uninhabitable, and almoft inaccessible— Seb. Yet Adr. Yet Ant. He could not mifs't. Adr. It muft needs be of fubtle, 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 'twere perfum'd by a fen. Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life. Seb. Of that there's none or little. Gon. How lush and lufty the grafs looks? how green? Ant. The ground indeed is tawny. Scb. With an eye of green in't. Ant. He miffes not much. Seb. No: he does but mistake 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: being rather new dy'd, than ftain'd with falt water. Ant. If but one of his pockets 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 fuch a paragon to their Queen. Gon. Not fince widow Dido's time, Ant. |