Who am myself attach'd with weariness,
To the dulling of my spirits: sit down, and rest.
Even here I will put off my hope and keep it
No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd
Whom thus we stray to find, and the sea mocks
Our frustrate search on land. Well, let him go.
Ant. [aside to Seb.] I am right glad that he's so out of hope.
Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose
That you resolved to effect.
Seb. [aside to Ant.] The next advantage