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Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it?

Gonzalo, to Alonso
Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as
the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.
That “sort” was well fished for.
Gonzalo, to Alonso
When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage.

The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness
And time to speak it in. You rub the sore
When you should bring the plaster.

You cram these words into mine ears against
The stomach of my sense. Would I had never
Married my daughter there, for coming thence
My son is lost, and, in my rate, she too,
Who is so far from Italy removed
I ne’er again shall see her.—O, thou mine heir
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish
Hath made his meal on thee?
Sir, he may live.
I saw him beat the surges under him
And ride upon their backs. He trod the water,
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted
The surge most swoll’n that met him. His bold head
’Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oared
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke
To th’ shore, that o’er his wave-worn basis bowed,
As stooping to relieve him. I not doubt
He came alive to land.
No, no, he’s gone.
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 banished from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on ’t.
Prithee, peace.
You were kneeled to and importuned otherwise
By all of us; and the fair soul herself
Weighed between loathness and obedience at
Which end o’ th’ beam should bow. We have lost your son,
I fear, forever. Milan and Naples have
More widows in them of this business’ making
Than we bring men to comfort them.
The fault’s your own.
So is the dear’st o’ th’ loss.
My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness
And time to speak it in. You rub the sore
When you should bring the plaster.
Very well.
And most chirurgeonly.
Gonzalo, to Alonso 
It is foul weather in us all, good sir,
When you are cloudy.
Foul weather?
Very foul.
Had I plantation of this isle, my lord—
He’d sow ’t with nettle seed.
Or docks, or mallows.
And were the king on ’t, what would I do?
Scape being drunk, for want of wine.
I’ th’ commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things, for no kind of traffic
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—
Yet he would be king on ’t.
The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.
All things in common nature should produce
Without sweat or endeavor; treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth
Of its own kind all foison, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.
No marrying ’mong his subjects?
None, man, all idle: whores and knaves.
I would with such perfection govern, sir,
T’ excel the Golden Age.
’Save his Majesty!
Long live Gonzalo!
And do you mark me, sir?
Prithee, no more. Thou dost talk nothing to me.
I do well believe your Highness, and did it to
minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of
such sensible and nimble lungs that they always use
to laugh at nothing.
’Twas you we laughed at.
Who in this kind of merry fooling am
nothing to you. So you may continue, and laugh at
nothing still.
What a blow was there given!
An it had not fallen flatlong.
You are gentlemen of brave mettle. You
would lift the moon out of her sphere if she would
continue in it five weeks without changing.
 Enter Ariel invisible, playing solemn music.
We would so, and then go a-batfowling.
Antonio, to Gonzalo
Nay, good my lord, be not angry.
No, I warrant you, I will not adventure my
discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep?
For I am very heavy.
Go sleep, and hear us.
 All sink down asleep except Alonso, Antonio, and Sebastian.
What, all so soon asleep? I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts. I find
They are inclined to do so.
Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it.
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,
It is a comforter.
We two, my lord,
Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
Thank you. Wondrous heavy.
 Alonso sleeps. Ariel exits.

Act 2
Scene 1
Line 107

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