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Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them!
Ant. It is the quality o' the climate.

Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not
Myself dispos'd to sleep.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They droppd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might,
Worthy Sebastian?-0, what might?-No more :-
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,
What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee;

My strong imagination sees a crown
Dropping upon thy head.

What, art thou waking?
Ant. Do you not hear me speak?

I do; and, surely, It is a sleepy language; and thou speak’st Out of thy sleep: what is it thou didst say? This is a strange repose, to be asleep With eyes wide open ; standing, speaking, moving, And yet so fast asleep. Ant.

Noble Sebastian, Thou let'st thy fortune sleep-die rather; wink'st Whiles thou art waking. Seb.

Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores.

Ant. I am more serious than my custom: you Must be so too, if heed me; which to do, Trebles thee o'er. Seb.

Well; I am standing water. Ant. I'll teach you how to flow. Seb.

Do so: to ebb,
Hereditary sloth instructs me.

If you but knew, how you the purpose cherish,
Whiles thus you mock it! how, in stripping it,
You more invest it! Ebbing men, indeed,
Most often do so near the bottom run,

their own fear, or sloth.



Pr'ythee, say on :
The setting of thine eye, and cheek, proclaim
A matter from thee; and a birth, indeed,
Which throes thee much to yield.

Thus, sir: Although this lord of weak remembrance, this (Who shall be of as little memory, When he is earth'd,) hath here almost persuaded (For he's a spirit of persuasion only,) The king, his son's alive; 'tis as impossible That he's undrown'd, as he that sleeps here swims.

Seb. I have no hope That he's undrown'd. Ant.

O, out of that no hope, What great hope have you! no hope, that way, Another way so high a hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, But doubts discovery there. Will you grant, with

That Ferdinand is drown'd?


Then, tell me,
Who's the next heir of Naples ?

Claribel. Ant. She that is queen of Tunis; she that dwells Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that from Naples Can have no note, unless the sun were post, (The man i’ the moon's too slow,)till new-born chins Be rough and razorable : she, from whom We were all sea-swallow'd, though some cast again; And, by that, destin'd to perform an act, Whereof wbat's past is prologue; what to come, In yours and my discharge.

Seb. What stuff is this? --How say you? 'Tis true, my brother's daughter's queen of Tunis; So is she heir of Naples ; 'twixt which regions There is some space. Ant.

A space whose every cubit Seems to cry out, How shall that Claribel Measure us back to Naples ?—Keep in Tunis,

He's gone.

And let Sebastian wake!-Say, this were death That now hath seiz'd them; why, they were no

worse Than now they are: there be, that can rule Na

As well as he that sleeps; lords, that can prate
As amply, and unnecessarily,
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chought of as deep chat. O, that you bore
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this
For your advancement! Do you understand me?

Seb. Methinks I do.

And how does your content
Tender your own good fortune ?

I remember, You did supplant your brother Prospero. Ant.

True : And look, how well my garments sit upon me; Much feater than before : my brother's servants Were then my fellows, now they are my men.

Seb. But, for your conscienceAnt. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kibe, 'Twould put me to my slipper; but I feel not This deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, That stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied be they, And melt, ere they molest! Here lies your brother, No better than the earth he lies upon, If he were that which now he's like; whom I, With this obedient steel, three inches of it, Can lay to bed forever: whiles you, doing thus, To the perpetual wink for aye2 might put This ancient morsel, this sir Prudence, who Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest, They'll take suggestion,3 as a cat laps milk; They'll tell the clock to any business that We e say befits the hour. Seb.

Thy case, dear friend, (1) A bird of the jack-daw kind. (2) Ever. (3) Any hint.

Shall be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan,
I'll come by Naples. Draw thy sword: one stroke
Shall free thee from the tribute which thou pay'st;
And I the king shall love thee.

Draw together:
And when I rear my hand, do you the like,
To fall it on Gonzalo.

O, but one word.

[They converse apart. Music. Re-enter Ariel, invisible. Ari. My master through his art foresees the

danger That these, his friends, are in; and sends me forth, (For else his project dies,) to keep them living.

[Sings in Gonzalo's ear.
While you here do snoring lie,
Open-ey'd Conspiracy

His time doth take:
If of life you keep a care,
Shake off slumber, and beware :

Awake! awake!
Ant. Then let us both be sudden.
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king !

[They wake. Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why are you

drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking? Gon.

What's the matter? Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your repose, Even now, we heard a hollow burst of bellowing Like bulls, or rather lions; did it not wake you? It struck mine ear most terribly. Alon.

I heard nothing. Ant. 0, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear ; To make an earthquake! sure it was the roar Of a whole herd of lions.


Heard you this, Gonzalo? Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a hum

ming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me: I shak'd you, sir, and cry'd; as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn :—there was a noise, That's verity: 'best stand upon our guard ; Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make fur

ther search For my poor son.

Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts! For he is, sure,

i' the island. Alon. Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done :

[ Aside. So, king, go safely on to seek thy son. [Exeunt.

Lead away;

SCENE II.-Another part of the Island. En

ter Caliban, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard.

Cal. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make

him By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire, Nor lead me, like a fire-brand, in the dark, Out of my way, unless he bid them; but For every trifle are they set upon me : Sometimes like apes, that moel and chatter at me, And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues, Do hiss me into madness :-Lo! now! lo!

(1) Make mouths.

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