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Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
Ant. 3 The visitor will not give him o'er fo.

Şeb. 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 offerid, Comes to the entertainer.

Seb. A dollar.

Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed; you have spoken truer than you purpos’d.

Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.

Gon. Therefore, my lord-
Ant. Fie, what a spend-thrift is he of his tongue!
Alon. I pr’ythee, spare.-
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. Though this island seem to be desert
Seb. Ha, ha, ha!
Ant. So, you've pay’d.
Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible-
Seb. Yet-
Adr. Yet
Ant. He could not miss't.

3 The visitor-] Why Dr. Warburton should change visitor to 'viser for adviser, I cannot discover. Gonzalo gives not only advice, but comfort, and is therefore properly called The Vifitor, like others who visit the fick or diffrested to give them confolation. In some of the Protestant churches there is a kind of officers termed consolators for the fick. JOHNSON.

green?

.

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, 4 and delicate temperance.

Ant. * Temperance was a delicate wench.

Seb. Ay, and a subtle ; as he most learnedly deliver'd.

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..
Ant. True; save means to live.
Seb. Of that there's none or little.
Gon. 5 How lush and lusty the grass looks ? how
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 beyond credit)

Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are.

Gon. That our garments, being, as they were, drench'd in the sea, hold notwithst.nding their freshness and glosses; being rather new dy'd, than stain'd with salt water.

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 Africk, at the marriage of the king's fair daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis.

Seb. 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

--and delicate temperance.] Temperance here means temperature. STEEVENS.

* Temperance was a delicate wench.) In the puritanical times it was usual to christen children from the titles of religious and moral virtues. STIEVENS.

5 How lufi, &c.] Lush, i. e, of a dark full colour, the oppofite to pale and faint. Sir T. Hanmer.

Adr.

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Adr. Tunis was never grac'd before with such a paragon to their queen.

Gon. Not since widow Dido's time.

Ant. Widow ? a pox o'that: how came that widow in ? 6 Widow Dido!

Seb. What if he had faid, widower Æneas too? Good lord, how you take it!

Adr. Widow Dido, faid you ? you make me study of that: she was of Carthage, nor of Tunis.

Gon. This Tunis, Sir, was Carthage.
Adr. Carthage ?
Gon. I assure you, Carthage.
Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.
Seb. He hath rais’d the wall, and houses too.

Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?

Seb. I think he will carry this isand home in his pocket, and give it his fon for an apple.

Ant. And Towing the kernels of it in the fea, bring forth more islands.

Gon. Ay?
Ant. Why, in good time.

Gon. 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.

Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.
Seb. Bate, I befeech you, widow Dido.
Ant. 0, widow Dido! ay, widow Dido !

Gon. Is not my doublet, Sir, as fresh as the first day
I wore it? I mean, in a fort.

Ant. That fort was well fish'd for.
Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage ?

Alon. You cram these words into mine ears, against
The stomach of my sense. 'Would I had never
Marry'd my daughter there ! for, coming thence,

Widow Dido !] The name of a widow brings to theis minds their own shipwreck, which they consider as having made many widows in Naples. JOHNSON.

My

My son is lost: and, in my rate, she too;
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,
I ne'er again shall see her. Othou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee !

Fran. Sir, he may live :
I saw him beat the surges under him,
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water,
Whose enmity he Aung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoln that met him : his bold head
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,
As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt,
He came alive to land.

Alon. No, no, he's gone. Seb. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss; That would not bless our Europe with your daughter, 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.

Alon. Proythee, peace,

Seb. You were kneelid to, and importun'd otherwise By all of us, and the fair soul herself Weigh’d, between lothness and obedience, at Which end the beain should bow. We have lost your

fon, I fear, for ever : Milan and Naples have More widows in them of this business' making, 7 Than we bring men to comfort them: The fault's your own.

7 Than we bring men to comfort them :] It does not clearly appear whether the king and these lords thought the ship loft. This paffage seems to imply, that they were themselves confident of returning, but imagined part of the fleet destroyed. Why, indeed, should Sebastian plot against his brother in the following scene, unless he knew how to find the kingdom which he was to inherit! JOHNSON.

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Alon.

Alon. So is the dearest o`the loss.

Gon. My lord Sebastian,
The truth, you speak, doth lack some gentleness,
And time to speak it in: you rub the fore,
When you should bring the plaister,

Seb. Very well.
Ant. And most chirurgeonly.

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good Sir,
When you are cloudy.

Seb. Foul weather?
Ant, Very foul.
Gon. Had I the plantation of this ifle, my

lord
Ant. He'd fow't with netile-feed.
Seb. Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king of it, what would I do?
Seb. 'Scape being drunk for want of wine.

Gon. I'the commonwealth, I would by contraries Execute all things : for no kind of traffick 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.

Sob. And yet he would be king on't.

Ant. 8 The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning

Gon. 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,

& The latter end of bis commonwealth forgets the beginning.] All this dialogue is a fine fatire on the Utopian treatises of government, and the impraciicable inconistent schemes therein recommended, WAREURTON,

Of

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