Tempest (1918) Yale/Text/Act II
ACT SECOND
Scene One
[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, 4
The masters of some merchant and the merchant,
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. 9
Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge.
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. 13
Gon. Sir,—
Seb. One: tell.
Gon. When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd, 16
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! 25
Alon. I prithee, spare.
Gon. Well, I have done: but yet—
Seb. He will be talking. 28
Ant. Which, of he or Adrian, for a good
wager, first begins to crow?
Seb. The old cock.
Ant. The cockerel. 32
Seb. Done. The wager?
Ant. A laughter.
Seb. A match!
Adr. Though this island seem to be desert.— 36
Seb. Ha, ha, ha! So you're paid.
Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inacces-
sible, —
Seb. Yet—
Adr. Yet— 40
Ant. He could not miss it.
Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and
delicate temperance.
Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. 44
Seb. Ay, and a subtle; as he most learnedly
delivered.
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most
sweetly. 48
Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones.
Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.
Gon. Here is everything advantageous to life.
Ant. True; save means to live. 53
Seb. Of that there's none, or little.
Gon. How lush and lusty the grass looks!
how green! 56
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. 61
Gon. But the rarity of it is,—which is indeed
almost beyond credit,—
Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are. 64
Gon. That our garments, being, as they were,
drenched in the sea, hold notwithstanding their
freshness and glosses; being rather new-dyed
than stain'd with salt water. 68
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 fair daughter Claribel to
the King of Tunis. 75
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.
Gon. Not since widow Dido's time. 80
Ant. Widow! a pox o' that! How came that
widow in? Widow Dido!
Seb. What if he had said, widower Æneas
too? Good Lord, how you take it! 84
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? 88
Gon. I assure you, Carthage.
Ant. His word is more than the miraculous
harp.
Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and houses too. 92
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. 96
Ant. And, sowing the kernels of it in the sea,
bring forth more islands.
Gon. Ay.
Ant. Why, in good time. 100
Gon. [To Alon.] 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. 104
Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there.
Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.
Ant. O! widow Dido; ay, widow Dido.
Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the
first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort. 109
Ant. That sort was well fish'd for.
Gon. When I wore it at your daughter's
marriage? 112
Alon. 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, 116
Who is so far from Italy remov'd,
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?
Fran. Sir, he may live: 120
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 swoln that met him: his bold head 124
'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 128
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; 132
Where she at least is banish'd from your eye,
Who hath cause to wet the grief on 't.
Alon. Prithee, peace.
Seb. You were kneel'd to and importun'd otherwise
By all of us; and the fair soul herself 136
Weigh'd between loathness and obedience, at
Which end o' the beam should bow. We have lost your son,
I fear, for ever: Milan and Naples have
Mo widows in them of this business' making, 140
Than we bring men to comfort them:
The fault's your own.
Alon. So is the dear'st o' the loss.
Gon. My lord Sebastian,
The truth you speak doth lack some gentleness
And time to speak it in; you rub the sore, 145
When you should bring the plaster.
Seb. Very well.
Ant. And most chirurgeonly.
Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, 148
When you are cloudy.
Seb. Foul weather?
Ant. Very foul.
Gon. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,—
Ant. He'd sow 't with nettle-seed.
Seb. Or docks, or mallows.
Gon. And were the king on 't, what would I do?
Seb. 'Scape being drunk for want of wine. 153
Gon. I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate; 156
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; 160
No occupation; all men idle, all;
And women too, but innocent and pure;
No sovereignty,—
Seb. Yet he would be king on 't.
Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth
forgets the beginning. 165
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, 169
Of it own kind, all foison, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.
Seb. No marrying 'mong his subjects? 172
Ant. None, man; all idle; whores and knaves.
Gon. I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.
Seb. 'Save his majesty!
Ant. Long live Gonzalo!
Gon. And,—do you mark me, sir? 176
Alon. Prithee, no more: thou dost talk
nothing to me.
Gon. 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.
Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at. 183
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 given!
Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.
Gon. 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. 192
Enter Ariel, [invisible,] playing solemn music.
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 adventure
my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me
asleep, for I am very heavy? 197
Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.
[All sleep but Alon., Seb., and Ant.]
Alon. What! all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes
Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find 200
They are inclin'd to do so.
Seb. Please you, sir,
Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth
It is a comforter.
Ant. We two, my lord, 204
Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.
Alon. Thank you. Wondrous heavy.
[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.]
Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.
Seb. Why 208
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.
Ant. Nor I: my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might, 212
Worthy Sebastian? O! what might?—No more:—
And yet methinks I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be. The occasion speaks thee; and
My strong imagination sees a crown 216
Dropping upon thy head.
Seb. What! art thou waking?
Ant. Do you not hear me speak?
Seb. I do; and surely,
It is a sleepy language, and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep. What is it thou didst say? 220
This is a strange repose, to be asleep
With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.
Ant. Noble Sebastian, 223
Thou let'st thy fortune sleep—die rather; wink'st
Whiles thou art waking.
Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly:
There's meaning in thy snores.
Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you
Must be so too, if heed me; which to do 228
Trebles thee o'er.
Seb. Well; I am standing water.
Ant. I'll teach you how to flow.
Seb. Do so: to ebb,
Hereditary sloth instructs me.
Ant. O! 231
If you but knew how you the purpose cherish
Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do so near the bottom run
By their own fear or sloth.
Seb. Prithee, say on: 236
The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
A matter from thee, and a birth indeed
Which throes thee much to yield.
Ant. Thus, sir:
Although this lord of weak remembrance, this
Who shall be of as little memory 241
When he is earth'd, hath here almost persuaded,—
For he's a spirit of persuasion, only
Professes to persuade,—the king his son's alive.
'Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd 245
As he that sleeps here swims.
Seb. I have no hope
That he's undrown'd.
Ant. O! out of that 'no hope'
What great hope have you! no hope that way is
Another way so high a hope that even 249
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,
But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me
That Ferdinand is drown'd?
Seb. He's gone.
Ant. Then tell me 252
Who's the next heir of Naples?
Seb. Claribel.
Ant. She that is Queen of Tunis; she that dwells
Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples
Can have no note, unless the sun were post— 256
The man i' th' moon's too slow—till new-born chins
Be rough and razorable: she that from whom
We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,
And by that destiny to perform an act 260
Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge.
Seb. What stuff is this !—How say you?
'Tis true my brother's daughter's Queen of Tunis;
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions
There is some space.
Ant. A space whose every cubit
Seems to cry out, 'How shall that Claribel 266
Measure us back to Naples?—Keep in Tunis,
And let Sebastian wake!'—Say, this were death
That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no worse
Than now they are. There be that can rule Naples
As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate
As amply and unnecessarily 272
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chough of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?
Seb. Methinks I do.
Ant. And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune?
Seb. I remember 278
You did supplant your brother Prospero.
Ant. True:
And look how well my garments sit upon me;
Much feater than before; my brother's servants
Were then my fellows; now they are my men.
Seb. But, for your conscience,— 283
Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kibe,
'Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not
This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences,
That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they,
And melt ere they molest! Here lies your brother, 288
No better than the earth he lies upon,
If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;
Whom I, with this obedient steel,—three inches of it,—
Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put 293
This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk; 296
They'll tell the clock to any business that
We say befits the hour.
Seb. Thy case, dear friend,
Shall be my precedent: as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st,
And I the king shall love thee.
Ant. Draw together;
And when I rear my hand, do you the like, 303
To fall it on Gonzalo.
Seb. O! but one word. [They converse apart.]
Enter Ariel [invisible] with music and song.
Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger
That you, his friend, are in; and sends me forth—
For else his project dies—to keep them living.
Sings in Gonzalo’s ear.
'While you here do snoring lie, 308
Open-ey'd Conspiracy
His time doth take.
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware: 312
Awake, awake!'
Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Gon. Now, good angels
Preserve the king!
Alon. Why, how now! ho, awake! Why are you drawn? 316
Wherefore this ghastly looking?
Gon. What's the matter?
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose,
Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions; did 't not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly. 321
Alon. I heard nothing.
Ant. O! 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear,
To make an earthquake: sure it was the roar
Of a whole herd of lions.
Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo? 324
Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a humming,
And that a strange one too, which did awake me.
I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd; as mine eyes open'd,
I saw their weapons drawn:—there was a noise, 328
That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard,
Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons.
Alon. Lead off this ground, and let's make further search
For my poor son. 332
Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts!
For he is, sure, i' the island.
Alon. Lead away.
Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done:
So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. Exeunt.
Scene Two
[Another Part of the Island]
Enter Caliban, with a burden of wood.
A noise of thunder heard.
Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him
By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me,
And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, 4
Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' the mire,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but
For every trifle are they set upon me: 8
Sometime like apes, that mow and chatter at me
And after bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way and mount
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I 12
All wound with adders, who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness.—
Enter Trinculo.
Lo now! lo!
Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly: I'll fall flat; 16
Perchance he will not mind me.
Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub to bear
off any weather at all, and another storm brew-
ing; I hear it sing i' the wind: yond same black 20
cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard
that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder
as it did before, I know not where to hide my
head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall 24
by pailfuls—What have we here? a man or a
fish? Dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a
fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind
of not of the newest Poor-John. A strange fish! 28
Were I in England now,—as once I was,—and
had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there
but would give a piece of silver: there would
this monster make a man; any strange beast 32
there makes a man. When they will not give a
doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out
ten to see a dead Indian. Legg'd like a man!
and his fins like arms! Warm, o' my troth! I do 36
now let loose my opinion, hold it no longer;
this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately
suffered by a thunderbolt. [Thunder.] Alas!
the storm is come again: my best way is to creep 40
under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter
hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange
bedfellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of
the storm be past. 44
Enter Stephano, singing [a bottle in his hand].
Ste. 'I shall no more to sea, to sea,
Here shall I die a-shore:—'
This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's
funeral: well, here's my comfort. Drinks.
Sings:
'The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I, 49
The gunner and his mate,
Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian and Margery,
But none of us car'd for Kate; 52
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, "Go hang!"
She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a tailor might scratch her where-e'er she did itch:
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang!' 57
This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort.
Drinks.
Cal. Do not torment me: O!
Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils here?
Do you put tricks upon us with savages and
men of Ind? ha? I have not 'scaped drowning, 62
to be afeard now of your four legs; for it hath
been said, As proper a man as ever went on four
legs cannot make him give ground: and it shall
be said so again while Stephano breathes at
nostrils.
Cal. The spirit torments me: O! 68
Ste. This is some monster of the isle with
four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague.
Where the devil should he learn our language?
I will give him some relief, if it be but for that:
if I can recover him and keep him tame and
get to Naples with him, he's a present for any
emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather. 75
Cal. Do not torment me, prithee: I'll bring
my wood home faster.
Ste. He's in his fit now and does not talk
after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle: if
he have never drunk wine afore, it will go near 80
to remove his fit. If I can recover him, and
keep him tame, I will not take too much for
him: he shall pay for him that hath him, and
that soundly. 84
Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou
wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: now
Prosper works upon thee. 87
Ste. Come on your ways: open your mouth;
here is that which will give language to you, cat.
Open your mouth: this will shake your shaking,
I can tell you, and that soundly: you cannot
tell who's your friend; open your chaps
again.
Trin. I should know that voice: it should
be—but he is drowned, and these are devils. O!
defend me. 96
Ste. Four legs and two voices; a most deli-
cate monster! His forward voice now is to
speak well of his friend; his backward voice
is to utter foul speeches, and to detract. If all
the wine in my bottle will recover him, I will
help his ague. Come. Amen! I will pour some
in thy other mouth.
Trin. Stephano! 104
Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me? Mercy!
mercy! This is a devil, and no monster: I will
leave him; I have no long spoon.
Trin. Stephano!—if thou beest Stephano,
touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo:
—be not afeard—thy good friend Trinculo. 110
Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth. I'll
pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trinculo's
legs, these are they. Thou art very Trinculo
indeed! How cam'st thou to be the siege of this
moon-calf? Can he vent Trinculos? 115
Trin. I took him to be killed with a thunder-
stroke. But art thou not drowned, Stephano?
I hope now thou art not drowned. Is the storm
overblown? I hid me under the dead moon-
calf's gaberdine for fear of the storm. And art
thou living, Stephano? O Stephano! two Nea-
politans 'scaped! 122
Ste. Prithee, do not turn me about: my
stomach is not constant.
Cal. [Aside.] These be fine things an if they be not sprites.
That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor:
I will kneel to him. 127
Ste. How didst thou 'scape? How cam'st
thou hither? swear by this bottle, how thou
cam'st hither. I escaped upon a butt of sack,
which the sailors heaved overboard, by this
bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree with
mine own hands, since I was cast ashore. 133
Cal. I'll swear upon that bottle, to be thy
true subject; for the liquor is not earthly.
Ste. Here: swear then, how thou escapedst.
Trin. Swam ashore, man, like a duck: I can
swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. 138
Ste. Here, kiss the book. Though thou
canst swim like a duck, thou art made like
a goose. 141
Trin. O Stephano! hast any more of this?
Ste. The whole butt, man: my cellar is
in a rock by the seaside, where my wine is
hid. How now, moon-calf! how does thine
ague? 146
Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven?
Ste. Out o' the moon, I do assure thee: I was
the man in the moon, when time was.
Cal. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore
thee; my mistress showed me thee, and thy dog,
and thy bush. 152
Ste. Come, swear to that; kiss the book; I
will furnish it anon with new contents; swear.
Trin. By this good light, this is a very shallow
monster.—I afeard of him!—a very weak mon-
ster.—The man i' the moon! a most poor credu-
lous monster!—Well drawn, monster, in good
sooth.
Cal. I'll show thee every fertile inch o' th' island; 160
And I will kiss thy foot. I prithee, be my god.
Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and
drunken monster: when's god's asleep, he'll
rob his bottle. 164
Cal. I'll kiss thy foot: I'll swear myself thy subject.
Ste. Come on then; down, and swear.
Trin. I shall laugh myself to death at this
puppy-headed monster. A most scurvy mon-
ster! I could find in my heart to beat him,— 169
Ste. Come, kiss.
Trin. But that the poor monster's in drink:
an abominable monster! 172
Cal. I'll shew thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee berries;
I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough.
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve!
I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee
Thou wondrous man. 177
Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make a
wonder of a poor drunkard!
Cal. I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; 180
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;
Show thee a jay's nest and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmoset; I'll bring thee
To clust’ring filberts, and sometimes I'll get thee
Young scamels from the rock. Wilt thou go with me? 185
Ste. I prithee now, lead the way, without any
more talking.—Trinculo, the king and all our
company else being drowned, we will inherit
here.—Here; bear my bottle—Fellow Trinculo,
we'll fill him by and by again. 190
Cal. 'Farewell, master; farewell, farewell.'
Caliban sings drunkenly.
Trin. A howling monster, a drunken monster.
Cal. 'No more dams I'll make for fish;
Nor fetch in firing
At requiring,
Nor scrape trenchering, nor wash dish; 196
'Ban, 'Ban, Ca—Caliban,
Has a new master—Get a new man.'
Freedom, high-day! high-day, freedom! free-
dom! high-day, freedom! 200
Ste. O brave monster! lead the way. Exeunt.
Footnotes to Act II
Scene One
5 merchant: merchant-ship
the merchant: the owner of the cargo
11 visitor: visitor to one in affliction
15 tell: count
19 Dolour: grief, used punningly
37 Ha, ha, ha! etc.; cf. n.
41 miss it; cf. n.
43 temperance: temperature (In the next line Temperance is a proper noun)
58 eye: spot
59 misses not much: is not far wrong
64 vouch'd: asserted
69 pockets; cf. n.
90 miraculous harp; cf. n.
100 in good time: very well
109 in a sort: to a certain extent
110 well fish'd for: long in being 'fished up,' or uttered
114 stomach: inclination
sense: feelings
116 rate: reckoning
134 Who hath cause, etc.; cf. n.
137 Weigh'd: balanced
loathness: reluctance
138 Which . . . bow; cf. n.
140 Mo: more
142 dear'st . . . loss: most precious one of those lost (Ferdinand)
147 chirurgeonly: like a surgeon
150 plantation: colonization; taken by Antonio as meaning 'planting'
154–174 Cf. Appendix A, p. 91
157 Letters: learning
158 use of service: custom of having servants
succession: tenure of property by right of inheritance
159 Bourn: boundary
tilth: tilled soil
168 engine: instrument of war
170 it: its
foison: plenty
181 sensible: sensitive
nimble: easily excited
188 An: if
flat-long: flat (a blow struck with the flat of a sword)
189 mettle: temper
190 out of her sphere; cf. n.
193 a-bat-fowling: bird hunting at night
195 adventure: risk
196 discretion: reputation for discretion
198 Go sleep, etc.; cf. n.
202 heavy: drowsy
211 consent: mutual agreement
215 speaks thee: proclaims thee (King)
224, 225 wink'st . . . waking: keep'st thine eyes shut, when awake
229 Trebles thee o'er: triples thy value
standing: between the ebb and the flow
233, 234 Cf. n.
238 matter: matter of importance
239 throes: pains
240 weak remembrance: failing memory
242 earth'd: buried
243, 244 only Professes: makes it his sole profession
250 Cf. n.
256 note: information
post: messenger
258 she that, etc.; cf. n.
259 cast: disgorged, with pun on 'casting of actors' for a play
262 In . . . discharge: to be determined by what you and I do
267 Measure: trace
273, 274 make . . . chat: teach a jackdaw to chatter as profoundly
277 content: contentment
278 Tender: provide for
281 feater: more gracefully
284 kibe: chilblain
287 candied, etc.; cf. n.
296 suggestion: prompting (to disloyalty)
297 tell; cf. n.
304 fall: let fall
314 sudden: swift to act
318 securing: keeping guard over
329 verily: verily so
Scene Two
3 By inch-meal: inch by inch
9 mow: make mouths
18 bear: ward
21 bombard: a large wine-skin
28 Poor-John: salt hake
30 had . . . painted: had but a painting of this fish
32 make a man: make a man's fortune
34 doit: a small coin
41 gaberdine: cloak
43 shroud: take cover
73 recover: restore
75 neat's: ox's
107 spoon; cf. n.
114 siege: excrement
115 moon-calf: monstrosity
130 sack: white Spanish wine
180 crabs: crab-apples
181 pig-nuts: earth-nuts
185 scamels; cf. n.
188 inherit: take possession
196 trenchering: trenchers