The Tempest (Folio 1, 1623)
Peer Reviewed
The Tempest.
7
¶when we put them on first in Affricke, at the marriage
745of the kings faire daughter Claribel to the king of Tunis.
¶our returne.
¶ragon to their Queene.
¶Ant. Widow? A pox o'that: how came that Wid-
¶dow in? Widdow Dido!
¶Good Lord, how you take it?
¶of that: She was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
¶Gon. This Tunis Sir was Carthage.
¶Ant. His word is more then the miraculous Harpe.
¶pocket, and giue it his sonne for an Apple.
765forth more Islands.
¶now as fresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage
¶of your daughter, who is now Queene.
¶Ant. O Widdow Dido? I, Widdow Dido.
¶wore it? I meane in a sort.
¶Gon. When I wore it at your daughters marriage.
¶Married my daughter there: For comming thence
¶Who is so farre from Italy remoued,
¶Hath made his meale on thee?
785Fran. Sir he may liue,
¶And ride vpon their backes; he trod the water
790'Boue the contentious waues he kept. and oared
¶As stooping to releeue him: I not doubt
¶He came aliue to Land.
795Alon. No, no, hee's gone.
¶But rather loose her to an Affrican,
800Who hath cause to wet the greefe on't.
¶Alon. Pre-thee peace.
¶I feare for euer: Millaine and Naples haue
¶Then we bring men to comfort them:
¶The faults your owne.
¶Gon. It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir,
¶When you are cloudy.
¶Seb. Or dockes, or Mallowes.
¶Gon. And were the King on't, what vvould I do?
¶Seb. Scape being drunke, for want of Wine.
¶Gon. I'th'Commonwealth I vvould (by contraries)
825Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke
¶Would I admit: No name of Magistrate:
¶Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty,
¶Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none:
830No 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 vvould be King on't.
835Ant. The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets
¶the beginning.
¶Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any Engine
840Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth
¶Of it owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundance
¶To feed my innocent people.
¶Ant. None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues,
¶T'Excell the Golden Age.
¶Gon. And do you marke me, Sir?
¶to laugh at nothing.
¶Ant. 'Twas you vve laugh'd at.
855Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling am nothing
¶Ant. What a blow vvas there giuen?
¶Seb. And it had not falne flat-long.
¶Gon. You are Gentlemen of braue mettal: you would
¶in it fiue weekes vvithout changing.
¶
Enter Ariell playing solemne Musicke.
¶Ant. Nay good my Lord, be not angry.
865Gon. No I warrant you, I vvill not aduenture my
¶am very heauy.
¶I finde they are inclin'd to do so.
¶Do not omit the heauy offer of it:
Ant.
