The Tempest | Page 9

conj. 362: Who ... prison] om. Pope (after Dryden). 366: thou'rt] F1 F2 F3. thou art F4. thou wer't Rowe. 375: SCENE V. Pope. following.] Malone. 378: The wild waves whist] Printed as a parenthesis by Steevens. See note (V). 380: the burthen bear] Pope. bear the burthen Ff. 381-383: Steevens gives Hark, hark! The watch-dogs bark to Ariel. 387: i' th' air or th' earth?] in air or earth? Pope. 390: again] against Rowe (after Dryden). 407: owes] owns Pope (after Dryden), but leaves ow'st 454. 408: SCENE VI. Pope. 419: It goes on, I see,] It goes, I see Capell. It goes on Steevens. 420: fine spirit!] om. Hanmer. 427: maid] F3. mayd F1 F2. made F4. 443: See note (VI). 444: ungently] F1. urgently F2 F3 F4. 451: lest] F4. least F1 F2 F3. 452: One] Sir, one Pope. I charge thee] I charge thee [to Ariel. Pope. 460: Pros. prefixed again to this line in Ff. 468: and] tho' Hanmer. 469: foot] fool S. Walker conj. child Dryden's version. 470: makest] mak'st F1. makes F2 F3 F4. 471: so] F1. om. F2 F3 F4. all Pope. 478: is] are Rowe. 488: nor] and Rowe (after Dryden). or Capell. 489: are] were Malone conj.

ACT II.
SCENE I. Another part of the island.
Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO, and others.
Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have cause, So have we all, of joy; for our escape Is much beyond our loss. Our hint of woe Is common; every day, some sailor's wife, The masters of some merchant, and the merchant, 5 Have just our theme of woe; but for the miracle, I mean our preservation, few in millions Can speak like us: then wisely, good sir, weigh Our sorrow with our comfort.
Alon. Prithee, peace.
Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. 10
Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so.
Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of his wit; by and by it will strike.
Gon. Sir,--
Seb. One: tell. 15
Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, Comes to the entertainer--
Seb. A dollar.
Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you have spoken truer than you purposed. 20
Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.
Gon. Therefore, my lord,--
Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
Alon. I prithee, spare.
Gon. Well, I have done: but yet,-- 25
Seb. He will be talking.
Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good wager, first begins to crow?
Seb. The old cock.
Ant. The cockerel. 30
Seb. Done. The wager?
Ant. A laughter.
Seb. A match!
Adr. Though this island seem to be desert,--
Seb. Ha, ha, ha!--So, you're paid. 35
Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible,--
Seb. Yet,--
Adr. Yet,--
Ant. He could not miss't.
Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender and delicate 40 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. 45
Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live.
Seb. Of that there's none, or little.
Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green! 50
Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny.
Seb. With an eye of green in't.
Ant. He misses not much.
Seb. No; he doth but mistake the truth totally.
Gon. But the rarity of it is,--which is indeed almost 55 beyond credit,--
Seb. As many vouched rarities are.
Gon. 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. 60
Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, would it not say he lies?
Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report.
Gon. Methinks our garments are now as fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the king's 65 fair daughter Claribel to the King of Tunis.
Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.
Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their queen. 70
Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.
Ant. Widow! a pox o' that! How came that widow in? widow Dido!
Seb. What if he had said 'widower Aeneas' too? Good Lord, how you take it! 75
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. 80
Seb. His word is more than the miraculous harp; 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. 85
Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more islands.
Gon. Ay.
Ant. Why, in good time.
Gon. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now 90 as fresh as when we were