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THE TEMPEST

Gonzalo.

Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I wore it? I mean, in a sort.

Antonio.

That sort was well fished for.

Gonzalo.

When I wore it at your daughter’s marriage?

Alonso.

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?

Francisco.

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 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.

Alonso.

He came alive to land. No, no, he’s gone.