Mir. Sweet Lord, you play me false
Fer. No my dearest loue,
I would not for the world
Mir. Yes, for a score of Kingdomes, you should wrangle,
And I would call it faire play
Alo. If this proue
A vision of the Island, one deere Sonne
Shall I twice loose
Seb. A most high miracle
Fer. Though the Seas threaten they are mercifull,
I haue curs'd them without cause
Alo. Now all the blessings
Of a glad father, compasse thee about:
Arise, and say how thou cam'st heere
Mir. O wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there heere?
How beauteous mankinde is? O braue new world
That has such people in't
Pro. 'Tis new to thee
Alo. What is this Maid, with whom thou was't at play?
Your eld'st acquaintance cannot be three houres:
Is she the goddesse that hath seuer'd vs,
And brought vs thus together?