{"id":"01KG8AZ42GKY8VYR98E40295KP","cid":"bafkreicry5qesyljolrjhpnzrfxxd3gygrdtkhopamqaxz5e6bomphxozm","type":"file","properties":{"cid":"bafkreiaggxlcn42i2kri625lkz76dgjpat3at7dvcnrd2e6prypvilhrca","content_type":"image/jpeg","filename":"01_tempest_1901_illustrated_bell_page_0054.jpg","height":2400,"key":"pdf-page-1769806466688-0lr329zq7p5a","label":"01_tempest_1901_illustrated_bell_page_0054.jpg","page_number":54,"pdf_type":"born_digital","size":468332,"text":"ACT\nTWO\nTHE\nTEMPEST\nSCENE ONE\nAntonio. Why, in good time.\nGonzalo. Sir, we were talking that our garments seem now as\nfresh as when we were at Tunis at the marriage of your\ndaughter, who is now queen.\nAntonio. And the rarest that e'er came there.\nSebastian. Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido.\nAntonio. O, widow Dido ! ay, widow Dido.\nGonzalo. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the first day I\nwore it? I mean, in a sort\nAntonio. That sort was well fished for.\nGonzalo. When I wore it at your daughter's marriage?\nAlonso. You cram these words into mine ears against\nThe stomach of my sense. Would I had never\nMarried my daughter there! for, coming thence,\nMy son is lost, and, in my rate, she too,\nWho is so far from Italy removed,\nI ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir\nOf Naples and of Milan, what strange fish\nHath made his meal on thee?\nFrancisco. Sir, he may live :\nI saw him beat the surges under him.\nAnd ride upon their backs; he trod the water.\nWhose enmity he flung aside, and breasted\nThe surge most swoln that met him ; his bold head\n'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd\nHimself with his good arms in lusty stroke\nTo the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow'd,\nAs stooping to relieve him : I not doubt\nHe came alive to land.\nAlonso. No, no, he's gone.\nSebastian. Sir, you may thank yourself for this great loss.\nThat would not bless our Europe with your daughter,\nBut rather lose her to an African ;\nWhere she, at least, is banish'd from your eye.\nWho hath cause to wet the grief on 't.\nAlonso. Prithee, peace.\nSebastian. You were kneel'd to, and importuned otherwise,\nBy all of us ; and the fair soul herself\nWeigh'd between loathness and obedience, at\nWhich end o' the beam should bow. We have lost yourson,\n38","text_extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:54:26.688Z","text_extracted_by":"pdf-processor","text_has_content":true,"text_source":"born_digital","uploaded":true,"width":1642},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG89K56V71HSK5HCYTVQK4G2","predicate":"derived_from"},{"peer":"01KG89JREDR8WY5QQGYR5FZRDY","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AZ4AHNVB0N939F2S53Y11","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AZ46A8Q168CJKFXD4WZJ6","predicate":"next"}],"ver":3,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:54:27.152Z","ts":"2026-01-30T21:01:49.435Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFFH6ETXGRVD10WPNP3007D6"}}