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My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up.
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel,
The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's threats,
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me,
Might I but through my prison once a day
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth
Let liberty make use of; space enough
Have I in such a prison.
PROSPERO:
MIRANDA:
Be of comfort;
My father's of a better nature, sir,
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted
Which now came from him.
PROSPERO:
Thou shalt be free
As mountain winds: but then exactly do
All points of my command.
ARIEL:
To the syllable.
PROSPERO:
Come, follow. Speak not for him.
GONZALO:
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,
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.
ALONSO:
Prithee, peace.
SEBASTIAN:
He receives comfort like cold porridge.
ANTONIO:
The visitor will not give him o'er so.
SEBASTIAN:
Look he's winding up the watch of his wit;
by and by it will strike.
GONZALO:
Sir,--
SEBASTIAN:
One: tell.
GONZALO:
When every grief is entertain'd that's offer'd,
Comes to the entertainer--
SEBASTIAN:
A dollar.
GONZALO:
Dolour comes to him, indeed: you
have spoken truer than you purposed.
SEBASTIAN:
You have taken it wiselier than I meant you should.
GONZALO:
Therefore, my lord,--
ANTONIO:
Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his tongue!
ALONSO:
I prithee, spare.
GONZALO:
Well, I have done: but yet,--
SEBASTIAN:
He will be talking.
ANTONIO:
Which, of he or Adrian, for a good
wager, first begins to crow?
SEBASTIAN:
The old cock.
ANTONIO:
The cockerel.
SEBASTIAN:
Done. The wager?