Gon.
By'r lakin, I can go no further, Sir,
My old bones ake: here's a maze trod, indeed,
Through forth-rights and meanders! by your patience,
I needs must rest me.

Alon.
Old lord, I cannot blame thee,
Who am myself attach'd with weariness,
To th' dulling of my spirits: sit down and rest.
Ev'n here I will put off my hope, and keep it
No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd,
Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.

Ant. [Aside to Sebastian.]
I am right glad that he's so out of hope.
Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose
That you resolv'd t' effect.

Seb.
The next advantage
Will we take throughly.

Ant.
Let it be to night;
For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they
Will not, nor cannot, use such vigilance,
As when they're fresh.

Seb.
I say, to night: no more. Solemn and strange musick; and Prospero on the top, invisible. Enter several strange shapes, bringing in a banquet; they dance about it with gentle actions of salutation; and, inviting the King, &c. to eat, they depart.

Alon.
What harmony is this? my good friends, hark!

Gon.
Marvellous sweet musick!

Alon.
Give us kind keepers, heaven! what were these?

Seb.
A living drollery. Now I will believe,
That there are unicorns; that, in Arabia
There is one tree, the phœnix' throne; one phœnix
At this hour reigning there.

Ant.
I'll believe both:
And what does else want credit, come to me,
And I'll be sworn 'tis true. Travellers ne'er did lie,
Though fools at home condemn 'em.

Gon.
If in Naples
I should report this now, would they believe me?
If I should say, I saw such islanders:
(For, certes, these are people of the Island)
Who tho' they are of monstrous shape, yet, note,
Their manners are more gentle-kind, than of
Our human generation you shall find
Many; nay, almost any.

Pro.
Honest lord,
Thou hast said well; for some of you there present
Are worse than devils.

Alon.
I cannot too much muse,
Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, expressing
(Although they want the use of tongue) a kind
Of excellent dumb discourse.

Pro.
Praise, in departing.—

Fran.
They vanish'd strangely.

Seb.
No matter, since
They've left their viands behind; for we have stomachs.
Will't please you taste of what is here?

Alon.
Not I.

Gon.
Faith, Sir, you need not fear. When we were boys,
Who would believe, that there were mountaineers,
Dew-lapt like bulls, whose throats had hanging at 'em
Wallets of flesh, or that there were such men,
Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find,
Each putter out on five for one will bring us^{2 note}

Good warrant of.

Alon.
I will stand to and feed,
Although my last; no matter, since I feel
The best is past. Brother, my lord the Duke,
Stand to, and do as we.

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