Sebas. God save his Majesty!
Anto. Long live Gonzalo!
Gonza. And—do you mark me, sir?—
Alon. Pr’ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing to me.
Gonza. I do well believe your Highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible[401-32] and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing.
Anto. ’Twas you we laugh’d at.
Gonza. Who in this kind of merry fooling am nothing to you:[401-33] so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.
Anto. What a blow was there given!
Sebas. An it had not fallen flat-long.[401-34]
Gonza. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the Moon out of her sphere, if she would[402-35] continue in it five weeks without changing.