Another part of the island.
By’r lakin, I can go no further, sir; My old bones ache: here’s a maze trod indeed Through forth-rights and meanders! By your patience, I needs must rest me.
Old lord, I cannot blame thee, 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.
Aside to Sebastian . I am right glad that he’s so out of hope. Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose That you resolved to effect.