His brother, and yours, abide all three distracted,
And the remainder mourning over them,
Brimful of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly
15 Him that you term’d, [sir], “The good old lord, Gonzalo;”
His tears [run] down his beard, like [winter’s] drops
From eaves of reeds. Your charm so strongly works ’em,
That if you now beheld them, your affections
Would become tender.
Pros.
Dost thou think so, spirit?