[Enter ALONSO, SEBASTIAN, ANTONIO, GONZALO, ADRIAN, FRANCISCO,
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.
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?