ANTONIO

Hang cur, hang, you whoreson insolent Noise maker, we are less afraid to be drowned, then thou art. Let's all sink with' King We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards, This wide-chopt-rascall, would thou mightest lie drow ning the washing of ten Tides. The Visitor will not give him over so. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue. Which, of he, or Adrian, for a good wager, First begins to crow? The Cockrell. A Laughter. So: you're paid. He could not misse't. Temperance was a delicate wench. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a Fen. True, save means to live. The ground indeed is tawny. He misses not much. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies? Widow? A pox of that: how came that Wid dow in? Widow Dido! His word is more then the miraculous Harp. What impossible matter will he make easy next? And sowing the kernels of it in the Sea, bring forth more Islands. Why in good time. And the rarest that ere came there. Oh Widow Dido ? I, Widow Dido. That sort was well fished for. And most Chirurgeonly. Very foul. Hee'd sow't with Nettle-seed. The latter end of his Commonwealth forgets the beginning. None (man) all idle; Whores and knaves, Long live Gonzalo. 'Twas you we laughed at. What a blow was there given? Nay good my Lord, be not angry. Go sleep, and hear us. We two my Lord, will guard your person, While you take your rest, and watch your safety. It is the quality of the Climate. Nor I, my spirits are nimble: They fell together all, as by consent They dropped, as by a Thunderstroke: what might Worthy Sebastian? Oh, what might? no more: And yet, me thinks I see it in thy face, What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and My strong imagination see's a Crown Dropping upon thy head. Do you not hear me speak? Noble Sebastian, Thou lettest thy fortune sleep: die rather: winkest While thou art waking. I am more serious then my custom: you Must be so too, if heed me: which to do, Trebles thee over. I'll teach you how to flow. Oh! If you but knew how you the purpose cherish While 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. 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, It's as impossible that he's undrowned, As he that sleeps here, swims. Oh, out of that no hope, What great hope have you? No hope that way, Is Another way so high a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me That Ferdinand is drowned. Then tell me, who's the next heir of Naples? She that is Queen of Tunis she that dwells Ten leagues beyond men life: she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the Sun were post: The Man in that Moon's too slow, till newborn chins Be rough, and Razor-able: She that from whom We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again, (And by that destiny) to perform and act Whereof, what's passed is Prologue; what to come In yours, and my discharge. A space, whose every cubit Seems to cry out, how shall that Claribell Measure us back to Naples ? keep in Tunis, And let Sebastian wake. Say, this were death That now hath seized them, why they were no worse Then now they are: There be that can rule Naples As well as he that sleeps: Lords, that can prate As amply, and unnecessarily As this Gonzallo : I my self could make A Chough of as deep chat: Oh, that you boar The mind that I do; what a sleep were this For your advancement? Do you understand me? And how do's your content Tender your own good fortune? True: And look how well my Garments fit upon me, Much feater then before: My Brother's servants Were then my fellows, now they are my men. I Sir: where lies that? If 'twere a kybe 'Twould put me to my slipper: But I feel not This Deity in my bosom: 'Twentie consciences That stand betwixt me, and Milan, candied be they, And melt ere they molest: Here lies your Brother, No better then the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he's Like (that's dead) Whom I with this obedient steel (three inches of it) Can lay to bed for ever: while you doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye might put This ancient morsel: this Sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course: for all the rest They'll take suggestion, as a Cat laps milk, They'll tell the clock, to any business that We say befits the hour. Draw together: And when I rear my hand, do you the Like To fallen it on Gonzalo. Then let us both be sudden. Oh, 'twas a din to fright a Monsters ear; To make and earthquake: sure it was the roar Of a whole herd of Lyons. I am right glad, that he's so out of hope: Do not for one repulse forgo the purpose That you resolved to effect. Let it be to night, For now they are oppressed with travail, they Will not, nor cannot use such vigilance As when they are fresh. I'll believe both: And what do's else want credit, come to me And I'll besworne it's true: Travellers never did lie, Though fools at home condemn they. I'll be thy Second. Very Like: one of them Is a plain Fish, and no doubt marketable. Where is the Master, Boson?