Page:Tempest (1918) Yale.djvu/40

The Tempest, II. i

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:

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

'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

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;

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

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,

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,

 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)

