Imatges de pàgina
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Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine,
Would I not have; but nature should bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foizon, all abundance,
To feed my innocent people.

I would with such perfection govern, sir,
To excel the golden age.

Seb.

'Save his majesty!

Ant. Long live Gonzalo !

Gon.

And, do you mark me, sir?

Alon. Pr'ythee, no more: thou dost talk nothing

to me.

Gon. I do well believe your highness; and did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, that they always use to laugh at nothing.

Ant. 'Twas you we laugh'd at.

Gon. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am nothing to you; so you may continue, and laugh at nothing still.

Ant. What a blow was there given !

Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.

Gon. You are gentlemen of brave mettle; you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if she would continue in it five weeks without changing.

Enter ARIEL invisible, playing solemn music.

Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling. Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. Gon. No, I warrant you; I will not adventure my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh me asleep, for I am very heavy?

Ant. Go sleep, and hear us.

[All sleep but ALON. SEB. and ANT. Alon. What, all so soon aleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts: I find, They are inclin'd to do so.

• Plenty.

Seb.

Please you, sir,

Do not omit the heavy offer of it:
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth,

It is a comforter.

Ant.

We two, my lord,

Will guard your person, while you take your rest,

And watch your safety.

Alon.

Thank

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[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 eye-lids sink? I find not

Myself dispos'd to sleep.

Ant.

Nor I; my spirits are nimble. 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, methinks, I see it in thy face,

What thou should'st be: the occasion speaks thee; and

My strong imagination sees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

Seb.

What, art thou waking?

I do; and, surely,

Ant. Do you not hear me speak?
Seb.
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.

Hereditary sloth instructs me.

Ant.

Do so; to ebb,

0,

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.

Seb.

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.

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,)

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, is Another way so high an hope, that even Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond,

But doubts 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, from whom

We were all sea-swallow'd, though some cast again ;

And, by that, destin'd to perform an act, Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come, In your's 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.

cubit

Ant. A space whose every 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 seiz'd 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?
Seb. Methinks I do.

Ant.

And how does your conten

Tender your own good fortune?

Seb.

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 conscience

1

Ant. Ay, sir; where lies that? if it were a kybe,
'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,

7 A bird of the jack-daw kind.

For all the rest,

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.
They'll take suggestion, as a cat laps milk;
They'll tell the clock to any business that
befits the hour.

We say

Seb.

Thy case, dear friend,

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.

Ant.

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

Seb.

O, but one word!

[They converse apart.

Musick. 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?

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