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We two, my lord,

Will guard your person while you take your rest,
And watch your safety.

Alon.

Thank you. Wondrous heavy.

[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel.

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

Why

Seb.
Doth it not then our eyelids sink? I find not
Myself disposed to sleep.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble.

Ant.
They fell together all, as by consent;
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke.

What might,

Worthy Sebastian? O, what might ?-No more :-
And yet me thinks I see it in thy face,

What thou shouldst be: the occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination sees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

Seb.

Ant. Do you not hear me speak?
Seb.

200

What, art thou waking?

I do; and surely

210

What is it thou didst say?

It is a sleepy language and thou speak'st
Out of thy sleep.

This is a strange repose, to be asleep

With eyes wide open; standing, speaking, moving,
And yet so fast asleep.

Art.

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

Seb.

Noble Sebastian,

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

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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

By their own fear or sloth.

220

Seb.

Prithee, say on:

LHAK. I.-2

The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim
A matter from thee, and a birth indeed
Which throes thee much to yield.

Ant.

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

Professes to persuade,-the king his son's alive, "Tis as impossible that he's undrown'd

As he that sleeps here swims.

Seb.

That he's undrown'd.

Ant.

I have no hope

O, out of that "no hope"

What great hope have you! no hope that way is
Another way so high a hope that even
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

But doubt discovery there. Will you grant with me
That Ferdinand is drown'd?

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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 that-from whom?
We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cast again,
And by that destiny to perform an act

Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come
In yours and my discharge.

230

240

250

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.

A space whose every cubit

Ant.
Seems to cry out, "How shall that Claribel

Measure us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis,

And let Sebastian wake." Say, this were death

That now hath seized them; why, they were no worse

Than now they are.

There be that can rule Naples

As well as he that sleeps; lords that can prate

As amply and unnecessarily

As this Gonzalo; I myself could make

A chough 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?

260

Seb. Methinks I do.

Ant.

And how does your content

Tender your own good fortune?
Seb.

I remember
You did supplant your brother Prospero.
Ant.

:

270

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.
Sb. But, for your conscience?

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if 'twere 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 mek ere they molest! Here lies your brother,
No better than the earth he lies upon,

If he were that which now he's like, that's dead;
Whom I, with this obedient steel, three inches of it,
Can lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus,
To the perpetual wink for aye might put
This ancient morsel, this Sir Prudence, who
Should not upbraid our course. For all the rest,
They'll take suggestion as a cat laps milk;

They'll tell the clock to any business that

We say befits the hour.

Thy case, dear friend,

Seb.
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 payest;
And I the king shall love thee.

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

280

- 290

Seb.

O, but one word.

[They talk apart.

Re-enter ARIEL, invisible.

Ari. My master through his art foresees the danger That you, his friend, 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-eyed conspiracy

His time doth take.

If of life you keep a care,

Shake off slumber, and beware:

Awake, awako!

300

Ant. Then let us both be sudden.

Gon.

Preserve the king.

Now, good angels

[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't not wake you?
It struck mine ear most terribly.

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

320

Alon. Heard you this, Gonzalo? Gon. Upon mine honor, sir, I heard a humming, And that a strange one too, which did awake me: I shaked you, sir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd, I saw their weapons drawn: there was a noise, That's verily. 'Tis best we stand upon our guard, Or that we quit this place: let's draw our weapons. Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make further search For my poor son.

Gon.

Heavens keep him from these beasts!

For he is, sure, i' the island.

Alon.

Lead away.

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Ari. Prospero my lord shall know what I have done : So, king, go safely on to seek thy son.

SCENE II. Another part of the island..

[Exeunt.

Enter 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 mirc,
Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark
Out of my way, unless he bid 'em ; but
For every trifle are they set upon me;

Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me
And after bite me, then like hedgehogs which
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way and mount
Their pricks at my footfall; sometime am I
All wound with adders who with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness.

10

Enter TRINCULO.

Lo, now, lo!

Here comes a spirit of his, and to torment me
For bringing wood in slowly. I'll fall flat;
Perchance he will not mind me.

Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear off any weather at all, and another storm brewing; I hear it sing i' the wind: yond same black cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bombard that would shed his liquor. If it should thunder as it did before, I know not where to hide my head: yond same cloud cannot choose but fall by pailfuls. What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish; a very ancient and fish-like smell; a kind of not of the newest Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in England now, as once I was, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. Legged like a man! and his fins like arms! Warm o' my troth! I do now let loose my opinion; hold it no longer this is no fish, but an islander, that hath lately suffered by a thunderbolt. [Thunder.] Alas, the storm is come again! my best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows. I will here shroud till the dregs of the storm be past.

Enter STEPHANO, singing: a bottle in his hand.

Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea,

Here shall I die ashore

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's funeral: well, here's my comfort.

[Sings.

The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I,

The gunner and his mate

Loved Mall, Meg and Marian and Margery,
But none of us cared for Kate;
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor, Go hang!

She love I not the savour of tar nor of pitch,

[Drinks.

Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch:
Then to see, boys, and let her go hang!

50

This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my comfort. [Drinks. Cal. Do not torment me: Oh!

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