So is the deer'st oth' losse
Gon. My Lord Sebastian,
The truth you speake doth lacke some gentlenesse,
And time to speake it in: you rub the sore,
When you should bring the plaister
Seb. Very well
Ant. And most Chirurgeonly
Gon. It is foule weather in vs all, good Sir,
When you are cloudy
Seb. Fowle weather?
Ant. Very foule
Gon. Had I plantation of this Isle my Lord
Ant. Hee'd sow't with Nettle-seed
Seb. Or dockes, or Mallowes
Gon. And were the King on't, what would I do?
Seb. Scape being drunke, for want of Wine
Gon. I'th' Commonwealth I would (by contraries)
Execute all things: For no kinde of Trafficke
Would I admit: No name of Magistrate:
Letters should not be knowne: Riches, pouerty,
And vse of seruice, none: Contract, Succession,
Borne, bound of Land, Tilth, Vineyard none:
No vse of Mettall, Corne, or Wine, or Oyle:
No occupation, all men idle, all:
And Women too, but innocent and pure:
No Soueraignty
Seb. Yet he would be King on't
Ant. The latter end of his Common-wealth forgets
the beginning
Gon. All things in common Nature should produce
Without sweat or endeuour: Treason, fellony,
Sword, Pike, Knife, Gun, or neede of any Engine
Would I not haue: but Nature should bring forth
Of it owne kinde, all foyzon, all abundance
To feed my innocent people
Seb. No marrying 'mong his subiects?
Ant. None (man) all idle; Whores and knaues,
Gon.
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