He’ll be hang’d yet,
55 Though every drop of water swear against it,
And gape at widest [to glut] him.
[A confused noise within]: “Mercy on us!”—“We split, we split!”—“Farewell my wife and children!”—[“Farewell, brother!”]—“We split, we split, we split!”
60 Ant. Let’s all sink [with the] king.
Seb. Let’s take leave of him. [ Exeunt Ant. and Seb.]
Gon. Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground, long heath, brown [furze], any thing. The wills above be done! but I would fain die a 65 dry death. [ Exeunt.]
[ I. 2 Scene II. The island. Before Prospero’s cell.]
Enter Prospero and Miranda.
Mir. If by your art, my dearest father, you have