SEBASTIAN A match!
ADRIAN (to
Gonzalo)
Though this island seem to be desert—
⌈ANTONIO⌉ (to Sebastian) Ha, ha, ha!
⌈SEBASTIAN⌉So, you’re paid.
ADRIAN Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible—
SEBASTIAN (to Antonio) Yet—
ADRIAN Yet—
ANTONIO (to Sebastian) He could not miss’t.
ADRIAN It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. 45
ANTONIO (to Sebastian) Temperance was a delicate wench.
SEBASTIAN Ay, and a subtle, as he most learnedly delivered.
ADRIAN (to
Gonzalo)
The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
SEBASTIAN (to Antonio) As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
ANTONIO Or as ’twere perfumed by a fen.
GONZALO (to Adrian) Here is everything advantageous to life.
ANTONIO (to Sebastian) True, save means to live.
SEBASTIAN Of that there’s none, or little.
GONZALO (to Adrian) How lush and lusty the grass looks! How green!
ANTONIO The ground indeed is tawny.
SEABASTIAN With an eye of green in’t.
ANTONIO He misses not much.
SEBASTIAN No, he doth but mistake the truth totally.
GONZALO (to Adrian) But the rarity of it is, which is indeed almost beyond credit—
SEBASTIAN (to Antonio) As many vouched rarities are.
GONZALO (to
Adrian)
That our garments being, as they were, drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their freshness and glosses, being rather new-dyed than stained with salt water.
ANTONIO (to Sebastian) If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies?
SEBASTIAN Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.
GONZALO (to Adrian) 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.
SEBASTIAN ’Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.
ADRIAN Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen.
GONZALO Not since widow Dido’s time.
ANTONIO (to Sebastian) Widow? A pox o‘that! How came that ‘widow’ in? Widow Dido!
SEBASTIAN What if he had said ‘widower Aeneas’ too? Good Lord, how you take it!
ADRIAN (to
Gonzalo)
‘Widow Dido’ said you? You make me study of that: she was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
GONZALO This Tunis, sir, was Carthage.
ADRIAN Carthage?
GONZALO I assure you, Carthage.
ANTONIO (to Sebastian) His word is more than the miraculous harp.
SEBASTIAN He hath raised the wall, and houses too.
ANTONIO What impossible matter will he make easy next?
SEBASTIAN I think he will carry this island home in his pocket, and give it his son for an apple.
ANTONIO And sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.
GONZALO (to Adrian) Ay.
ANTONIO (to Sebastian) Why, in good time.
GONZALO (to Alonso) 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.
ANTONIO And the rarest that e’er came there.
SEBASTIAN Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
ANTONIO O, widow Dido? Ay, widow Dido.
GONZALO (to
Alonso)
Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean in a sort.
ANTONIO (to Sebastian) That ‘sort’ was well fished for.
GONZALO (to
Alonso)
When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage.
ALONSO
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?
FRANCISCO
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 swoll‘n, that met him. His bold head
’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To th’ shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bowed,
As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt
He came alive to land.
ALONSO
No, no; he’s gone.
SEBASTIAN (to
Alonso)
Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss,
That would not bless our Europe with your daughter,
But rather loose her to an African,
Where she, at least, is banished from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on’t.
ALONSO
Prithee, peace.
SEBASTIAN
You were kneeled to and importuned otherwise
By all of us, and the fair soul herself
Weighed 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
More 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 (to Antonio) Very well.
ANTONIO And most chirurgeonly.
GONZALO (to Alonso)
It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.
SEBASTIAN (to Antonio) Fowl weather?
ANTONIO
Very foul.
GONZALO (to
Alonso)
Had I plantation of this isle, my lord—
ANTONIO (to Seabastian)
He’d sow’t with nettle-seed.
SEBASTIAN
Or docks, or mallows.
GONZALO
And were the king on’t, what would I do?
SEBASTIAN (to
Antonio)
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 (to Antonio) Yet he would be king on’t.
ANTONIO The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.
GONZALO (to
Alonso)
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 (to Antonio) No marrying ’mong his subjects?
ANTONIO None, man, all idle: whores and knaves.
GONZALO (to
Alonso)
I would with such perfection govern, sir,
T’excel the Golden Age.
SEBASTIAN
Save his majesty!
ANTONIO
Long live Gonzalol
GONZALO (to Alonso) 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 laughed 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 fallen 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 (to
Gonzalo)
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.
Gonzalo,
Adrian, and Francisco sleep
ALONSO
What, all so soon asleep? I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts.—I find
They are inclined 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.
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 disposed to sleep.
ANTONIO
Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropped as by a thunderstroke. 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
My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.
SEBASTIAN
What, art thou waking?
ANTONIO
Do you not hear me speak?
SEBASTIAN
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
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.
ANTONIO
Noble Sebastian,
Thou letst thy fortune sleep, die rather; wink’st
Whiles thou art waking.
SEBASTIAN
Thou dost snore distinctly;
There’s meaning in thy snores.
ANTONIO
I am more serious than my custom. You
Must be so too if heed me, which to do
Trebles thee o’er.
SEBASTIAN
Well, I am standing water.
ANTONIO
I’ll teach you how to flow.
SEBASTIAN
Do so; to ebb
Hereditary sloth instructs me.
ANTONIO
O,
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
Whiles thus you mock it; how in stripping it
You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do so near the bottom run
By their own fear or sloth.
SEBASTIAN
Prithee, say on.
The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
A matter from thee, and a birth, indeed,
Which throes thee much to yield.
ANTONIO
Thus, sir.
Although this lord of weak remembrance, this,
Who shall be of as little memory
When he is earthed, hath here almost persuaded—
For he’s a spirit of persuasion, only
Professes to persuade—the King his son’s alive,
’Tis as impossible that he’s undrowned
As he that sleeps here swims.
SEBASTIAN
I have no hope
That he’s undrowned.
ANTONIO
O, out of that ‘no hope’