Seb. You were kneel'd too, & importun'd otherwise By all of vs: and the faire soule her selfe Waigh'd betweene loathnesse, and obedience, at Which end o'th' beame should bow: we haue lost your son, I feare for euer: Millaine and Naples haue Mo widdowes in them of this businesse making, Then we bring men to comfort them: The faults your owne Alon. So is the deer'st oth' losse Gon. My Lord Sebastian, The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse, And time to speake it in: you rub the sore, When you should bring the plaister Seb. Very well Ant. And most Chirurgeonly Gon. It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir, When you are cloudy Seb. Fowle weather? Ant. Very foule Gon. Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord Ant. Hee'd sow't with Nettle-seed Seb. Or dockes, or Mallowes Gon. And were the King on't, what would I do? Seb. Scape being drunke, for want of Wine Gon. I'th' Commonwealth I would (by contraries) Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke Would I admit: No name of Magistrate: Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty, And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession, Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none: No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle: No occupation, all men idle, all: And Women too, but innocent and pure: No Soueraignty Seb. Yet he would be King on't Ant. The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets the beginning Gon. All things in common Nature should produce Without sweat or endeuour: Treason, fellony, Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any Engine Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth Of it owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundance To feed my innocent people Seb. No marrying 'mong his subiects? Ant. None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues, Gon. I would with such perfection gouerne Sir: T' Excell the Golden Age Seb. 'Saue his Maiesty Ant. Long liue Gonzalo Gon. And do you marke me, Sir? Alon. Pre-thee no more: thou dost talke nothing to me Gon. I do well beleeue your Highnesse, and did it to minister occasion to these Gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble Lungs, that they alwayes vse to laugh at nothing Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you: so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still Ant. What a blow was there giuen? Seb. And it had not falne flat-long Gon. You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you would lift the Moone out of her spheare, if she would continue in it fiue weekes without changing. Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke. Seb. We would so, and then go a Bat-fowling Ant. Nay good my Lord, be not angry Gon. No I warrant you, I will not aduenture my discretion so weakly: Will you laugh me asleepe, for I am very heauy Ant. Go sleepe, and heare vs Alon. What, all so soone asleepe? I wish mine eyes Would (with themselues) shut vp my thoughts, I finde they are inclin'd to do so